The upside to using paper and pen instead of data pads for taking notes on patients is that it's intuitive and you can fiddle with things. The downside is that, at the end of a shift, a lot of the notes have to be shredded for privacy reasons, and the details have to be entered into the data pads anyway. Despite his usual devotion to efficiency,
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Alan Turing is perched on Zouichi's shoulder once more. In fact, more of his feathers have grown in by now; he now looks like he's in the process of transitioning into a rather handsome bird. Also: he knows it, at least from the look he casts Howard before returning to preening his feathers.
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But he's biased. He is quite fond even of ugly baby Alan.
"I didn't know you hated children." After all, Howard is still a minor himself.
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Howard snorts. "Are you surprised?"
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Was this also minor weapons training? Kind of a flimsy bit of plastic tying the ring to the larger round end with the toy's name. "Is this a toy, or some kind of torture device?" she asked, holding up the object in question.
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Clearly, Howard was a kid who spent more times watching movies and playing videogames than being outside with toys ordered off TV.
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She lowered the contraption to her side. "When I first saw it I thought it might have been a child-safe version of a flail." She looked serious for a split second before her lips quirked up at the corners. "At least you recognize this from somewhere. Anything more advanced than a jumping rope, and I'm lost."
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He furrows his eyebrows at her jumprope comment, then digs a Simon Says out of the box. "So, where you're from, this sort of toy would be ridiculous high technology, right? That one's pretty much the only one I was ever good at. Think I even beat it once."
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Glancing at Howard, she made a face. "You know, this is actually one of those times I think I'm actually jealous of not being able to take notes. I'm all for taking care of patients, but this is harder than I thought. Do you know most of what these things functions are?"
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"That one's a ball. You throw it," he says, with a face that says he doesn't think all that highly of Kaya's intelligence for not being able to figure out a football. "As for the rest...I understand maybe half of them. There are a few in there that I'm not sure if they're toys or cheap plastic weapons, so, you know, we should probably figure that out before we give them to kids. Just to keep them from running crying back to Med Bay when they blow their hands off."
He's joking, mostly, but he's seen plenty of kids get injured in accidents back home and since he has no magical healing capabilities, would really rather avoid it.
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"Ok, you're serious about this thing being a ball?" Kaya blurted out, not able to keep her skepticism to herself. "Then why does it look like that? Aren't balls supposed to be round? Anyway, I'm just trying to sort these out: I thought this de-ageing thing was only going to be temporary, like all of the other things that affected the crew, but it looks like this thing is in for the long haul. I didn't know we'd be playing babysitter in the med bay."
Not that she minds, sh really liked it, but that didn't mean she wanted everyone to know that.
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"I don't know. I didn't invent football. Think it's pretty stupid, actually." Said like someone who was never very good at sports, although being the shortest boy in his class never helped that. "Yep. Can I just delegate all my babysitting shifts to you? If I have to watch any kids, someone's going to end up eating lead paint or sticking a fork in an electrical socket. I don't do kidsitting."
He can tell from the way Kaya talks about it that at the very least, she doesn't hate kidsitting like he does.
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She glanced over at her co-worker, typing his notes in. He was not chewing on a pen for a change; instead he was chewing on a wooden stick. "How's your schedule today, Howard?"
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"I'm writing up a debriefing report on Epicurea - which I'm sure you remember. Hopefully, someone will have a chance to learn from it, and not have to go on a mission there as blind as we did."
"Would you like to contribute anything to the report? I've got a draft here," she says, holding up her omnicomm.
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He'd been pouring over his own notes for hours, trying to find anything he might have missed, anything that might help Conner or the others. But so far, absolutely nothing. He'd only got up for a cup of what passed for caffeine in this place. "Coffee? The box claims it is, anyhow. Not sure if I buy it."
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The mention of coffee catches his attention, though. "You have coffee?" he asks. His voice has the tentative fervor of someone who expects to be told 'yes, but you can't have any'.
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He didn't see a problem with a quiet shift, though, working in silence was easy.
"Yeah, I got a pot and a few bags of the stuff back at port. Enough to last, hopefully, until next landfall. It doesn't taste right, but it will wake you up. Want a cup? There's even some sort of sweetener." He glanced at the teen out of the corner of his eye, watching the reaction.
So, knew about kids, was used to being unwelcome, and used to being told there were things in the world he couldn't have. Unless he missed his guess, he was dealing with one of the kids who came into the hospital wild eyed and hording packets of apple juice and sugar with no trust for the adults responsible for their care. Though he couldn't tell yet if it was abuse, neglect, loss or some combination of the three. "Tried to get a few things to make it more comfortable, for us and the patients."
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"If it's edible, I'll drink it. Or potable. Whatever the word is." He isn't lying, either; there were days back in the FAYZ where the only meal of the day was half a tube of toothpaste or tiny packets of mayonnaise. There are very few, if any, things Howard hesitates about eating. "I'm not picky about taste. What's your name?"
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