A Long Day's Night
A Long Day's Night
Summary: Jupiter, recovering in sickbay, is visited by friends. Xanthus is released. Camille sprouts some spurned religious ideas. Eventually, sickbay is emptied to just Jupiter and Camille, when Jupiter finally has a much needed breakdown.
Date: Post Holocaust Day 72
Related Logs: Scorpia Events

In spite of every nurse and doctor insisting otherwise, apparently (as Xanth has put it), this in-flight meal really /does/ come with tiny little bottles of ambrosia. Don't question how they got here, but the patient to Jupiter's right is sitting up, looking over a flight manual like someone who'd rather not be looking over a flight manual… and has two tiny bottles of alcohol on his night table, next to a food tray. The ward is a little more busy than usual, given recent events.

"I feel like the morning after a thirty guy bar brawl on shore leave," Jupiter replies to Xanthus, pulling herself up into a sitting position. This hurts in several places, but it doesn't stop her doing it. She grunts, winces slightly, and adjusts the bed with a controller so she can rest back against it sitting up. Jupiter reaches down with a scowl, and flips the blanket off of her thigh. That hurts the worst. Bandage. Dammet.

"With a little work, I'm sure your inside can look like your outside. Harmony's important, right?" Xanthus gives the other pilot a quick visual evaluation, "Glad you're up. Didn't want to know how you were doing. We lost enough people." His flippant, carefree tone sounds somewhat hollow as he admits the state of things. Keep smiling.
Of course, the moment Jupiter even THINKS about moving, there is a doctor slipping into the room to no doubt give her a disapproving glare and possibly another hit of morpha. Or maybe not. It's the Sagittaron doctor. She's known for offering… other treatments. She stares at them both, then down to the bits of ambrosia, and the moving Jupiter, an amused smirk on her middle aged face. "…Do you know how many things in this room alone I should scold you both for?"

Jupes doesn't respond to glares, assuming she catches them. She's decided she's sitting up, so she's sitting up. She would probably be out of the bed by now if she had five more minutes to think about it. Last time she was in here, she practically broke out. She holds out a hand to Xanthus, obviously for some liquor. "Unless the scolding ends with oral sex, go ahead and save it, doc."

Xanthus tosses one of the little bottles of ambrosia at Jupiter, "If you promise to scold me, I promise to pout adorably. How about that?" He adjusts his position in the bed. In doing so, his flight manual ends up on its side which either makes it no less readable or he wasn't reading it to begin with.

Camille stares at the tossing of ambrosia, but the stuff is brewed all naturally, a rumored gift from the gods, the preference of their drinking, so over all… Camille approves of it more than morpha. She still gives a rather skeptical smirk and shakes her head. "Lieutenant Black, if you agree to stay put I'll pretend I don't see what you're holding. And Jig Spiros, if I see you giving my patients unprescribed pain killers again I will have you tossed out of my sickbay."

Jupes barely catches the bottle, but she manages it, and cracks it open. She salutes the Doc with it, then tips her head back and down the gullet it goes. Pilots! "I feel mostly fine, and who did we lose?" She glances over at Xanthus.

"I think I'm about due to get out of here soon anyway. Could be token resistance…" Xanthus pouts, just like he promised. He doesn't look adorable doing this. He does look like trouble, though. "Besides, you wouldn't take the last drops of hope out of our wounded hands, would you?" As before, his playfulness sounds hollow, like he's getting devoured inside, "Yuuri and Kale are confirmed. Both squadron leaders are MIA. Case is MIA. Ivory's MIA. Thorn's missing." He shrugs, seeming a little blank, like he'd prefer more alcohol, "I think Hale's in charge, I don't know. Good environment for promotions."

Camille allows the two pilots to catch up on the situation at hand, her frown pulling at her lips quietly, making her look a few years older than usual even. She's worried, she doesn't bother to hide it. She gives Jupiter a few moments to breathe, not yet coming over for vitals, just studying the woman's colour, body posture, searching for any warning signs that sitting up was too much for the Black sister at this moment…

Jupiter's eyes cut to the other pilot. "The raptors went down?" She racked her head pretty good when she crash landed her viper on the deck, so the details of the end of the evening are a little fuzzy. "And half the escort." Her long term memory doesn't seem to be affected. "Frak me." She mutters this, without much expression. She's thinking, and that usually leads to staring off into space a little. Her posture is a little hunched, as if she's sore up a side, which she is. Her ribs are bruised, thank you seat restraint. Arm is bruised, head is bruised and sore on one side, and then there's the thigh that had to have the shrapnel removed. Everybody loves new scars. "What about Boner?"

"A lot went down." corrects Jester, who's distributing the news like he's distant. "Boner and I were wing. I'd be in a lot worse shape if he didn't get in. He made it. I landed like an idiot, if you can call that a landing. Didn't give the cylons the satisfaction of wrecking my plane. Wrecked it myself. Your brother's fine."

Camille nods in affirmation…"Worried like a mother hen, but fine. I was worried we'd have to treat him for a heart attack, though…" Camille smirks, just a bit, trying to line the concern with a bit of humor, "He'll probably be back around soon, he was ordered out for rest. Half the airwing down and we need all our operational pilots, well…Operational. But he's been here. Waiting. He'll be relieved to know you're up." Camille reassures the woman gently.

Jupes shakes her head and takes in all of that information. Finally she smirks and just says, with amusement, "He's such a girl."

Xanthus unscrews the cap of his remaining miniature bottle of booze, "If you ladies will excuse me, I think it's time to take my special medicine." Token resistance, of course. There's enough liquid in the bottle to get a child drunk and little else. "You know, I think it's working… oh my gods… I can see! Holy crap, I can see. It's a miracle!" Both arms reach for the ceiling, "Thank you gods!!" and then he settles back down pathetically, laying back in the bed, "He's a good pilot."
Camille is going to say something, but then Xanthus is up and claiming miracles and she just -frowns-, going quite still. The disapproval is practically tangiable upon the air. She frowns deeply, breathing through her nose and letting the brief moment of anger pass. Swallowing back any emotion or evangalism, she sighs and finally just nods. "He is a good pilot. And a good man. He just cares about you, Miss Black. That is not a crime to care."

"He's a pussy," Jupiter replies to Xanthus, but with affection. She loves her brother, just like she loves to haze her brother. Jupiter sets the empty mini bottle aside, and glances over to Camille. "Do you think you can get me Yuuri's tags?" It's a bit of a sudden question, as she's being examined. As a belated aside to Xanthus, she notes, "Raptors full of marines plus half the escort pretty much covers 'a lot'."

Xanthus doesn't seem to mind Camille's sour looks. Or perhaps he doesn't care. It's hard to say, as the guy isn't reacting to her expression. "Yup. I figured it was a good descriptor. I'm glad you like it." His delivery is flat and what happened has obviously affected him a great deal, though he is (poorly) covering it up. Just assume most of his deliveries are a little off side. "Not sure what we could've done. We kept shooting them down and they kept sending more. Like they were destructively testing us to see how much punishment we could take. Leave it to us to invent sadistic robots."

Camille looks towards Jupiter at that question, a slightly more gentle frown crossing her mouth. She shakes her head slowly, "I…I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but Yuuri's body was not… recovered. Neither was Kale's." Camille hates to be the bearer of bad news, her voice softer to give it, but she also doesn't hide the truth. She finally approaches Jupiter, going through the quiet motions of a complete vital sign check, not trying to be too invasive but she will do her job.

Jupiter doesn't seem that concerned about Kale. She's like that. She's doesn't seem that concerned about Yuuri either, just his tags. "At least I hid his shit before the mission. Those frakkers would be ransacking it right now," all because she's laid up on lazy duty. She glances over to Xanthus. "I think it's safe to say they made modifications to their parameters." She rolls her shoulders slightly, and hides the wince at the bruising all along her arm. Finally, she says, "So when can I get out of here, Doc?" She's sitting up, and already asking to get out. Let me gooooo. Except she's cooler about it than that.

Xanthus shrugs and looks at his upsidedown flight manual. He really doesn't seem to be reading it. "Well, we wrote the book on ourselves. Literally. All a cylon has to do is read a bunch of psyche textbooks and they'll know how to screw with our heads in no-time. I figure they're playing with us. Which is fine. We'll just play dirty. I hope the old man has some tricks up his sleeves, though." He holds still for a second, "Why am I even talking about this stuff? Doc, am I free to go? All my wounds are self inflicted, so they're mine and I love them."
He should have been by sooner, but Hale has been slightly busy lately, given the circumstances. There's soft words shared behind the curtain before in comes the Tall Lieutenant. There's a bit of hesitance as he stands back, looking to where his injured comrades lie. No words said just yet, he'll let the Doc continue with her work, before he he clears his throat. He's polite like that.

Camille finishes a careful checking on Jupiter's bandages, especially that one on the woman's poor thigh, and content that Jupiter is on her way to recovery, she looks over to Xanthus and tilts his head up, examining his pupils quickly before nodding slowly, "Slept through the night, pupils fully responsive, you should be fine. Just take it easy as you can." She murmurs, that motherly worry still in her voice. She then looks over in Hale's direction and nods quietly. "Lieutenant." Before gazing back to Jupiter, "You, however, have another day or so of rest -here- before you can go back to light duty. Then we'll talk."

Hale offers a half cocked smile back towards the Doctor. "Doc.." the accent thick, but then its always been that way. A rub of his hand under his nose. Perhaps an itch, or not, either way the Lieutenant is coming closer since he's been addressed. "How are they doing?" He needs to know how long they are going to be in here, if he can come up with any sort of game plan, till command gives the up and up. Mainly he is just trying to keep busy, and push other thoughts to the background. Though at the mention of light duty there is a look to Jupiter and a nod. "Good to see you awake Fingers. You got very scary last night."

Jupiter seems pleased with this response from Camille. She holds in the glee with a sharp nod. "Excellent." She glances down at her gown. "So… where are my clothes?" Priorities, you see. She glances over as Hale speaks up. "Bunny, I thought we swore never to speak of our nights of passion in public."

Camille looks between Hale, Jupiter, back to Hale, back to the woman, and she almsot twitches. She smirks at them…"Am I going to have to hose down that bed once she leaves? Pilots." Camille shakes her head, moving back over to the shared desk to claim her much needed cup of coffee. She chuckles at Jupiter's question, "Well, Lieutenant Black, we had to cut most of your clothing off but a fresh set will be delievered as soon as you are permitted to leave. For now, relax. And if you plan to make an unapproved break for it, you will do so with your ass hanging in the wind." Camille states quite matter of factly.

"Wouldn't be the first or the worst" comes an unsolicited mumbled comment from Willem as he stiffly ducks into the ward, riffing on Camille's statement. Something less than a smirk on his face, but still, he's joining the ranks of the concerned visitors.

"Right." Hale offers towards Jupiter with a faint grin, but still he is looking back towards Camille "No, doc. I just need to know when she'll be good for active duty, given she follows her rehab pattern and regular check ups. What's the best estimates?" That for the doctor, but Hale's being all business today, and will likely be all business till things return to somewhat normal-There's a turn of his head when another voice chimes in and Willem is given a once over, before the same tired half smile he has given others. "Ey, mate."

Xanthus gives Hale a nod in greeting as he turns, sliding his legs off of the bed. "What I have, there is no cure for, Rabbit." He smiles lamely and rises to his feet. "I think you two crazy kids are going to need some private time or something. There's plenty of that to go around here, right?" Willem's appearance earns him a nod as well, "Rebouuund. Duude." Dude indeed. He's dressed in a hospital gown.

Matto comes stumbling in at about that point, too, not far after Rebound, looking just about ready for a shower and some shut-eye, but he's here, no less, trailing in on Rebound's wake, shifting aside as the number of visitors from the injured persons' actual squadron present becomes evident, sauntering to one side to chill out by the Doctor Person the meanwhile. "Yah," he agrees with Rebound's statement, "You obviously haven't spent much time in Red Squadron berthings. Fingers' ass hanging in the wind so much you'd think it was the new Colonial flag." The lines delivered somewhat off-key, but still with an attempt at jocularity behind them.

"And see, I was trying to make a joke with relative -tact-." Willem says, stiffly, clearing his throat. Less of a smile and more of a slight curving of his lips, although there is something truly -wooden- about most of his speech and mannerisms right now. "Was just trying to check on our crash dummies here." He blinks at both Jupiter and Xanthus in turn.

Hale chuckles to Xanthus "Jester, can it, up until your landing you were doing right fine." a joke, but then Bunny's crashed his fair share of them, so don't take it too seriously. "I'm glad you made it back." Words, meant because he does need the JiG back in full form, frak the whole wing needs to be healthy if they are going to go back for down personnel.

Camille reaches over for a chart off her desk, seemingly Jupiter's, looking over the various tests from last night. "Two or three days until light duty… at least a week until active duty and we'll have to see about that leg." She responds to the senior pilot in the room, her voice all business now even as ass flagging jokes are flying about the room. The older woman is unphased by a large group of pilots.

"… What?" Jupiter's attention goes instantly back to Camille. "You did what?" She reaches down to grab her breasts, and finds herself lacking undergarments as well. That smarts, of course. Massive bruises, thank you restraints. "You did not cut off my lingerie." That sounds like an order. It's not the nudity that has her concerned, it's the rarity of proper skimpy lace things in this day and age.

Camille smiles a moment later…"No. Not your…Under things. Just what was necessary to get to the wound… though I will say most women wear sports bras under their tanks, Lieutenant Black."

"My leg's fine," Jupes replies, without even thinking about it. Pfft. The answer to Camille's last is simple, "I respect my tits more than that."

"She's a pilot. Most of us don't even wear clothes." Xanth's reply is almost absently uttered, like he's not even thinking about it. He scratches the back of his neck, plants his bare feet on the floor, and peers around the room. "Oh, where's my suit, some fatigues to get into… or do I just walk down to the berthings in a hospital gown? I can do that, you know. I'm fully compatable."

"Girls." Wil's eyes roll backwards, mechanically. He quietly gives his head a slight lateral shake. Eyelids creep downwards maybe a centimeter and he just tucks his hands behind his back. He's in his blues now, having gotten a change, shower, and all that good stuff.

Having been released, Camille actually -does- retrieve Xanth's clothing out of a locker. It's not in the best of shape, looking just like he left it, but at least none of it was cut off of him. She offers the folded clothing in his direction, "Here you go. No need for bare assing it, you have permission to leave. But then, if you enjoy mooning everyone, I shan't stop You. I'll just look…Elsewhere."

Hale looks from Jupiter and a slight smirk is there, as if he had something to add, but is is shaken off, before he's looking to Xanthus. "Oh good, Spiros is relased." more or less to himself than anything. A look back is given to Matto, who also recieves the half smile, but nothing more else than a nod. "Lieutenant get into rehab ASAP tomorrow, Need to get you back to flight status.." very good Lieutenant Obvious, what else can you add? Oh, Hale.

Jupes glances around, and says to the others, "At least we know each other." The amount of people who chimed in about her ass amuses the elder Black. Which is good when a doctor is telling her she's on light duty, and her leg hurts like she just slept with someone's husband and was summarily stabbed for it. "Shit." She tips back against her pillows. That was apropos of nothing much. Or everything.
Matto offers the Rabbit a warm sort of smile in return for the nod, meeting his eyes for that brief moment and leaning against an inoffensive section of bulkhead as the Jesterday gets ready for discharge.
"If it's any consolation, I stopped looking about the fifteenth time, Fingers." Willem quips again with that ever-wry tone. However, it's better humor than he was in a short time ago. It's a start. "No offense." Then, to Xanthus. "Welcome back." Simple, but effective.

"I sure am." Xanth walks over to where Camille indicates and reclaims his flight suit, which he starts to climb into. "Thanks, Will. I'm sure a lot's changed since I was active." The delivery is a little flat, probably because the implied sarcasm isn't needed. Enough's changed for it to be a true statement, "And if it's any consolation, Fingers… I haven't seen your ass yet."

"I've seen it twice, and have the mug and t-shirt t' prove it." There's a ride joke there, but hale is not pressing. "How're you feeling Wil?" perhaps a try at changing the subject form Jupiter's ass, which she might like more than anything else. "And thanks Doc.. Quicker we can get her healed, the less ass you get to see.." an added bit towards Camille.

Camille seems almost thankful that Xanthus is taking his flight suit but, dammit…she steals a look at his ass anyway. A middle aged redhead can have some fun sometimes, right? She smiles, just a bit, and scoops up her coffee again, watching Jupiter as the woman rests back again. She then blinks to Hale at the comment of ass. Was she caught? H er eyes are a bit wide as she half laughs. "Ah, I went through medical school…I've seen far worse, and far better, than ass."

"The first -fourteen- times, though. Well. Damn." Willem snaps his fingers. He's definitely trying hard here. As is so often for him, he's trying -too- hard. He gives Jupiter a mock-lascivious look that will probably earn him a stabbing when she gets better. He gives Xanthus an additional brief smirk before addressing Hale, not really meeting the man's gaze. "Just fine. I'm just fine. My ass isn't the one in a sling. Remember?"

Jupes smirks and flips her blanket off, then swings her legs over the side of the bed. It seems she's decided it's time to get up. And so she does. The first tensing of the muscle hurts like a you-know-what. "Oh-how." It's quiet, but it hurts. She keeps the rest of the profanity on the inside. "From today on, no one who isn't currently groping my ass can talk about my ass."

"No way. There's a mug and a t-shirt? Crap, Jupiter. I really /need/ a mug. Roll over." Xanthus turns his head, too. But he doesn't cough. Instead he zips up his flight suit like he's about to go on a trip. In some ways, he's already on one. It is worth pointing out that the delivery is nearly deadpan. He seems to really want that mug. "So, how's the deck chief about spectacular crash landings? Is he going to send me back here?"

Matto pushes away from the bulkhead and drifts toward Hale and, correspondingly, the other members of his squadron, looking, worried, to Marty's sister for a moment before he turns back to Hale, "Can I borrow you when you've got a moment?" he asks him quietly. To Xanthus: "Deck Chief's gone fishing, Jesterday. You've been reprieved."

Hale is looking from the others and over to Matto who has pulled him out of where ever his mindspace was. "Sure." said there for a second "In fact I was just coming in to check on them..I can always return to read to Jupiter later..Part of the healing process.." remarked with a grin at his own possibly lame joke. But still if Matto needs him he'll saunter to where ever the fella wants to talk.

Camille stands, immediately going to Jupiter's side, but it's too late. And the woman would need to start rehab sooner rather than later. Camille smirks, letting that doubtful tough love cross her eyes. "Alright, Black… walk it off then come back here and let me see if you ripped anything." Camille grunts out gently, arms folded across her chest as she watches her patient torture herself.

"I think your ass earned a free pass." Willem chimes in with barely a twitch of his nose, to Jester. As the ass references keep rolling. Maybe he can say 'ass' with every sentence. It's worked so far. To Jupiter, now, as he simply blinks and his lips curl again. "I'll honor that request only as a concession to the wounded. No offense." Again.
Jupiter glances over at Hale, ignores Xanthus, and nods to the doctor. She goes in search of the nearest restroom, and uses all of those military training skills to locate, assess, infiltrate. The door is closed a little harder than necessary. She's not usually sensitive about ass talk. Must be something else.

Xanthus coughs belatedly. "I'd be thankful for small favors, but I don't think that's the sort of favor I was hoping for. Also, every day is Jester-Day. I'm going to get out of here, change into something with less dried sweat, and then get out to the mess hall and see if they're serving food this time. All the other times they've served something else."

"It's not Jesterday today until tomorrow," Kisseus points out, "So… technically… every day -will be- Jesterday, but no day ever actually -is- Jesterday." He stops, mid-discursus, and clears his throat, giving Hale a nod, "I won't keep you from her long," he says, "Let's walk a ways," he suggests, heading on out.

"Glad someone's thankful." Willem finally says. His attempts at jokes have finally ebbed and his shoulders fall a little bit. He looks about the gathered crowd and simply tosses out a helpless shrug.
Camille looks back to those left, giving a low, thoughtful gaze. "So… this might very well be the worst question in the universe… but how -is- everyone doing?" She might not be the official counselor, but she is listening. She watches them, arms folded, but eyes soft, concerned…protective.

Xanthus stops on his way out the door, turning towards Camille, "Both our squadron leaders are missing and probably dead, we lost 25 percent of an entire squadron, and we're the last of our species and really close to getting exterminated. Everyone is doing terrible." As it turns out, Jester's got a really, really sour, acidic tongue when something angers him. He rolls his eyes and continues out the door.

Jupiter returns on the most cheerful note of the night. There's a flush, then the door opens, and the pilot steps out. She's getting the hang of the walking thing, even if it smarts. "I need a pain pill. Someone slide me some meds. I'm obviously not getting any tonight."

"Not to mention-" Willem offers, cutting himself off, now, looking between Xanthus and Camille. "He said it." He pauses a beat. Jupiter's return snaps him out of that though. "Hey. Take it easy, okay. There's a whole other contingent of Marines for you to cheerfully abuse when you get better." He looks towards the meds, and towards Camille. Ah, so proper, he doesn't even think of muscling in on the doctor's trade.

Camille might look like she's being casual, but she's watching Jupiter's every manuever like a hawk. She simply isn't the sort of doctor to baby someone. If they want to walk it off, she'll let them do so until they fail or fly, and if they fail, she'll stitch them back together. For any that's been under her care more than once, they know that's Camille's operational stragety. So… time to fall or fly for Jupes. She takes another sip of her coffee and nods slowly to Jester.

"Yes. But from what I heard, most of those pilots are MIA. Means there's hope. And the rest of us are still alive. Still
Jupiter glances over at Will, and his words usher a little smile to her lips. Marines to abuse. Right. Yep, that cheers her up a bit. And anything is a lot when your thigh feels like… a doctor recently removed a small piece of shrapnel from it. Ow. "They better not be dead. I was just getting some of them conditioned to respond on verbal command." She's probably referring to the marines. Jupes limps a little, but stays on her feet. She's related to Martin. What could be more painful? Pfft. Shrapnel.

"Hey Doctor. Would you happen to have any more of that concentrated bag of fluffy bunnies and rose petals you've been huffing?" Willem throws this out there, his voice deadpan. He finally shrugs and heads over towards the nearest medicine cart.

He gives another glance towards Xanthus, looking at his sometime wingman, helplessly. Backup Plz?
Xanthus snickers to himself as he passes out the door, waving to the room in his wake.

Camille smirks slightly deeper…"Not huffing anything. I simply don't see any reason behind feeling certain of our impending destruction. If the Gods will it, then it will happen, we cannot stop it. Until then, I frakking plan to live every single day I'm alive. And to help you all live it too. Perhaps you should attend chapel once in a while, Mr. Price… it gives… Perspective on things." She responds rather firmly.

"Oh, come on," Jupiter mutters, "No sermons unless they happen immediately before or after rough sex. I'm telling you. I can't take that Gods talk unless it's dirty. So either cheapen it up or knock me out with something." Her prattling doesn't seem to have been broken. Jupes moves over to sit on the edge of her bed, pulling herself up onto it slooowly, so as not to jostle the thigh. "Will, I had no idea you had it in you." She looks to Camille after a moment, then decides to share, "A tumble on the storage room floor also gives one perspective. And bruises, but those are just a little free bonus."

"Sorry. All the times I've been there, I haven't heard the voices. Maybe the Gods don't want to speak to me. I'm not sure they respond to my brand of -gentle persuasion-." Willem says, coldly, but not without a little twinge of dryness. "Then again the last time I heard voices I staggered into the head, tripped, and smashed myself chin-first on the toilet seat after trying to keep up with…That's not important." What a downer. He switches gears like -that-, and waves a dismissive hand. "That was perspective too. Riddle me this, Doc. Explain, one time. Once, how some supernaturally potent ccreature up in the sky lets this happen. Let's -all- this happen." Then he blinks, looking like, well, he's been a bit of a troll here. Embarassment sets in. "Yeah. Pills." He reaches for 'em.

Camille shakes her head slowly, "Truthfully? I don't know. I'm not them. And yes… some nights, I want to rip that entire Chapel apart. But… we are still here. We're fighting, and breathing and… there has to be some sense to it. It's a miracle we're alive at all, considering what happened." Camille offers quietly, to both of them, belief still gently supporting every word she says even as she turns away and goes to get more coffee..

Jupiter has the look of someone who really wishes they'd remembered to bring the popcorn. She just stares at Willem, then looks at Camille. Better than a floor show. She mostly hides the grin behind her hand, as she reaches up to scratch the tip of her nose. "Crap. My bunk mate's dead." That's actually kind of depressing. She scowls. "Someone medicate me."

Camille heads over to Jupiter, offering a shoulder to help the limping woman back into bed. "I've got some herbs… not as harsh as the morpha, you'll be able to wake up easier. If you want the hard stuff, I'll go ask Pike." Apparently, unless someone's dying, Camille prefers not to poison her patients with chemicals…

"I don't need the hard stuff, I'd just like some stuff. Any stuff that'll take the edge off, so I can get back to my fantasies about the horrific things what must be happening to our marines right now," Jupiter notes, scooting back onto the bed to rest against the pillows.

Camille nods simply to Jupiter, assisting the woman back onto the bed and into the pillows before she turns back to her single private drawer in the desk… She pulls it open, examing the contents with a thoughtful brow…"Is there a god or goddess to whom you pray, Lieutenant?" Yes, Camille does take it that seriously, but she asks the question as if it makes as much factual sense as inquiring as to which is someone's dominant hand, or what their blood type might be.

"You don't know. That's the same answer I hear every time. I guess I'm happy just waiting for the 'miracles' to run out." Willem gets less than an 'E' for effort here. He just opens his mouth slowly as Camille discusses alternative medicine, carefully filing her preferences away somewhere in his head. And carefully filing his own. Somewhere else. Finally, though, he turns his head a little bit towards Jupiter before he smooths his uniform slacks out. "Uh. I was going to mention that. I actually thought about rifling through Yuuri's shit just to bring you a token but then I realized I'm not capable of that level of tastelessness. Sorry." He never really looked upon the man all that favorably but never really subjected him to open badmouthing, either. Even now, he's dancing around that obvious fact. Speak ill of the dead, much? "Hey. Fingers. I might have something mildly entertaining to lend you if you don't mind a visit later."

"Will, I take his shit before every mission in case he bites it." Jupiter can't help but snicker at he tasteless comment. "At least I don't have to hobble down there with my ass hanging out, just to put it back before he notices this time." This time. Yes, she does that every mission. The snicker turns into a chuckle. That turns into a laugh. "Frak no," she laughs out, "I don't pray." Her eyes start to water with the quiet laughter, and she fans herself a little with one hand.

Camille nods simply, not protesting it… she grabs a piece of something that looks like pale, pale route out of a baggie and slips the rest away. Returning to Jupiter's side, she offers the silver…"Under the tongue. Keep it there for at least five minutes. It's bitter and minty but it should do the job…for rest, and to dull the pain. If you really can't stand the taste I can get you milk or tea."

"Glad my bunkmate isn't really an issue." Willem mutters, crossing his arms behind his back. As he sees the treatmeant, he clears his throat once more, in his more usually diplomatic manner. "If you'll excuse me. I'm going to go pray the stains out of my flightsuit."

Jupiter's chuckles continue even as she takes the plant matter and slides it under her tongue. Even through the face she pulls and the, "Ugh, what the ass is that?" Blargh, she says, then goes back to laughing. It's kind of alarming how the laughing continues, and it's not long before she's laughing and tears are streaming down her cheeks.

Camille frowns a moment, deeper, as Jupiter continues laughing even through tears. She doesn't go for nurse and sedatives….yet. But she does settle at the head of Jupiter's bed. She lets the woman, if Jupiter will do so, lean against her, laughing or crying into her lap as Camille just reaches down for her hair. She knows it's not all laughter and that's the worst…"Just breathe, Jupiter… relax… "

And for some reason, those words uttered by Camille just make her laugh all the more, punctuated by hiccups and half sobs. It's like Jupiter's emotions have, for a moment, gone completely haywire, and all she can do is hold on the for the ride. "Oh… god. Somebody sedate meeee." It's made all the worse by the taste of that leaf under her tongue.

Camille frowns deeply, watching Jupiter and having a sinking feeling that it's not going to wear off any time soon. She finally just nods to one of the other nurses, but remains at the hysterical woman's side… "Half dose…" She mouths quietly, even if drugging the woman like that leaves an equally bitter taste in her mouth. She holds on close, trying to be reassuring, not daring to abandon Jupiter at a time like this..

The dark haired pilot just leans against Camille, unable to get control of herself. Ragged breaths, sobs, sobs, laugh, sob. Tears roll down her cheeks at an alarming rate. If it's possible to dehydrate yourself crying, Jupiter is well on the way. Her face and gown are wet with the tears and strings of messy snot. Her face is flushed, she's barely breathing enough to keep from getting dizzy. Her fingers curl hard into the doctor's clothing and months of repressed emotion spill out all over both of them.

Camille knew it was coming. She didn't necessarily expect it from -Jupiter-, but after the tear up of most of the airwing yesterday, it was coming. And possibly that's why Jupiter needs her moment, her time to cry and laugh it out. When the nurse is prepping the sedative, Camille actually ends up waving it away. If Jupiter doesn't get it out now, it's just going to go crazier later. She shifts closer, sitting at the head of Jupiter's bed instead and allowing the woman to cry into her lap as Camille slowly, gingerly, strokes her thin fingertips through Jupiter's black hair… No words. Just touch. Presence. Reassuring warmth.

It's a long time before Jupiter is relatively quiet, her shoulders shake with silent sobs, and it's only the harsh intake and exhalation of breath that reveal it's not some sort of tremor, but her voice has just given out. It's always the snarky violent ones, isn't it? Her body shakes, and she squeezes her eyes closed, but she can't seem to stop.

Camille's fingertips curl slightly, so her nails run through Jupiter's hair, an actually physically relaxing touch, almost the beginnings of a massage but she doesn't push that deep. She stretches her hand down to the nape of Jupiter's neck and shoulders before moving back up, every motion strangely motherly, but then she had at least a dozen years on the woman, if not more… Finally, she begins to hum softly… an old song. Not religious, but more.. primal, protective. A mother's song. A lullabye. No words, just slow humming.

Jupiter buries her face in the sheet, pulling it up and over her shoulder. She wipes her tears, and presses it against her mouth, wipes her nose. She just hides her face for a long time in the press of her hands. She sucks in a deep, shuddering breath. The soporific effect of the crying forces her to relax against the bed, but she can't quite seem to shake the tremors, and the slight hiccuping breaths every now and then. Her face is flushed, eyes red from the crying. She just closes her yes, and turns her face down to the mattress, dark curls falling over her cheek.

Camille sits there so her hip is slightly pressed against Jupiter's back, another bit of warm presence. She reaches her hand forward, tucking those few black, errant curls behind Jupiter's ear before just smoothing down across her forehead again. "You need to rest, Jupiter… rest and heal… and not just your body…" Camille finally whispers, all too soft, the words just meant for the women…

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License