[The video feed clicks on to display a battered, bloodied and rather soaked man. Yet, despite his injuries he looks completely fine. Maybe that big blue glowing hunk of coral behind him had something to do with it? Either way, he's sitting there staring down intently at the SFC as he attempts to figure this hunk of plastic out.]Tch... Fuckin' piece
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Close, but not quite. [He's somewhat amused; looks like this little kitty decided not to ask around otherwise.] It's called Vatheon.
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No shit, Sherlock.
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Need a hand, there?
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Why would I?
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This is hardly Atlantis, I'll have you know. This is the city of Vatheon.
Your injuries concern me. Would you mind giving me an assessment of them at the moment? If you can move, there is a clinic in town and I would be more than happy to treat them for you.
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Noted.
[And then he's actually laughing.]
Can I move? I'm sittin' up, ain't I? Shit, considering I was blindsided by a fucking oversized axe-scythe and left bleedin' outin the goddamned desert, I think I can move just fine.
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Alright. Where are you? I'll come to you. Those injuries have to be tended to.
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Hell if I know. S'this big hunk of coral behi--No funny shit, got it 'doc?
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Throwing things won't really help you. They don't ever go away. Just like the new mark on your body.
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[New mark? What?]
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You should find a mark on yourself. Here, let me show you. [Since he had the star, must mean he picked it up. She shrugged off her vest before turning on the SFC to show the mark on the base of her neck.]
This. If you're new here, then you have one.
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He carefully studies her actions, remaining silent until she speaks up again. It takes him a few moments but soon enough he's looking for his own, wiping away a smear of blood from his hip--Ah, there it is.]
This?
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[Have some sarcasm right back, man.]
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[This is a nice conversation.]
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[Even with all his injuries like this, he's snarking off.]
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