(Untitled)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The door opens. A muzzle pokes briefly through it somewhere around shin level, then withdraws with a whine. A moment later the door opens a little farther, and this time the muzzle (and attendant dog) are nowhere to be seen; however, there's a walker, and a human in baggy grey t-shirt and shorts leaning heavily on it instead. A pale and harrowed-

Comments

[notabricklayer]

McCoy has gotten into the habit of looking every time he hears the door open. For one thing, people seem to love coming in hurt, here. Considering he's done it himself he can hardly complain, but still. If you know what's coming, you can better prepare. For another thing, Olya is still nervous about Others who evidently think they can rule her life... though she doesn't seem to mind the one that managed to come in already. He doesn't ask.

So yes, Ellen, there is a StarFleet surgeon heading in your direction. And yes. He realizes you look like crap. He even has a running list of why you might look like crap.

[notabricklayer]

Normally, he'd say no. But normally he'd be on board the Enterprise, in his own sickbay. Here, he's not sure there's anyone else to take care of the dog, if he sends it away.
"Sure. Just make sure he minds himself." And hopefully none of the other doctors mind too much.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"You heard the man," Ellen murmurs. "Be good, Dogmeat."

The Heeler's tail waves a moment; he butts his nose against Ellen's nearer hand.

"Good boy."