Artificial Implantation
Artificial Implantation
Summary: Barny mans up to Sickbay for yon faux chompers.
Date: PH132 (28 Aug 2009)
Related Logs: Shot In The Face.

CEC Kharon, Deck 2, Sickbay
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #132
OOC Time: Fri Aug 28 22:53:58 2009

The hatchway immediately opens into the larger room, though the muted blues of the room are complimented by the white sheets on the various beds lying at wait for any injured personnel, which are lain out in neat rows. Curtains are available around certain bed bays for examinations and privacy during them. Rows of lockers around the room are labeled in easy-to-read yellows that contain everything from surgical supplies to the basic items such as sterilized bandages. A counter to the Fore end of the room is the ships pharmacist and can dispense items like aspirin and ibuprofen to anyone who might need it. Behind the manned counter stands an electronically locked metal door that leads back to some of the more controlled pharmacological items. To the rear of the room is a specially designated and sealed 'clean area' for surgeries.

Aggie sits kicked back on one of the empty gurneys, a cigarette in her mouth, and a hardcover book in her hands. She's settled as far away from the desks and various actual patients as possible. She could be a mannequin. Though, no, she occasionally moves her lips a little to inhale or exhale smoke. The book doesn't move, pages don't get turned.

Considering the things that may be about to happen to him, Sergeant Barnabas Volker stands tall as he walks his way in through the hatch. About three percent of that braveness vanishes the second he spots Aggie. To be fair, it does take a little while, and he's up at the counter having an idle chat with the pharmacist when it happens. That conversation ends…. quickly.

Aggie doesn't move for a while, but then, almost as if she senses herself being watched, her eyes come up from the book. A screen of curling smoke wafts past her eyes. Dr. Beckett's gaze searches the room. Looking, looking. Locked. She has tone.

What a stupid day for Barney to forget to bring his chaff dispensers. Or any flares. He's got no way to escape now. Although he doesn't even seem to be trying. If one were crazy enough, it'd almost be possible to believe it was her he came here to find. Cue that half-a-mouth smile, and the short wave. "Dr. Beckett? You said to come down, so here I am." It's half called, half spoken as he approaches her gurney. Action!

Aggie's eyes never leave the marine as she flips the heavy book closed. Thump. She tosses the book to the foot of the gurney, and then she rises. A tug of her lab coat straightens it. She leaves the cigarette burning. It bobs with her words. "Have a seat, Volkman." She almost got the name right. Will he correct her? She motions to one of the back curtains with an ominous dentist chair inside of it. It's the one and only dental station.

Volkman.. er, Volker moves towards the seat. Why yes, he does dare to correct her, hand moving to rub at his chin as he eyes chair of terror. "Volker, Lieutenant. Although this will hopefully be the last time you see me down here, so whichever suits you better." Seat: Taken. Cue the childhood flashbacks to braces and their ilk, and you've got the perfect recipie for a traumatic nightmare later on tonight. He swallows. Quite deeply.

The dentist pauses by a box mounted on the wall, and pulls out two latex gloves with a little jerk of her wrist. It's a box mounted away from the others, on not far from the dentist chair. She pulls them on, one at a time, with little snaps of latex against skin. They fit tightly, very small fit for very small hands. "Open your mouth, Sergeant." She picks up a little tray, and pulls out a little rubber jaw prop. "This may be … uncomfortable." She doesn't put out the cigarette as she leans over to shove the rubber into his mouth, on the side with teeth. Mmm. Taste that latex.

Barney secures the back of his head against the chair, almost reaching something that could be mistaken for 'Comfort.' If the observer was blind. And drunk. His arms rest along the… arm… rests, wrists wrapping slightly so he can grip the underside as he opens up his mouth. There's a tiny pop from the left-side socket, which has happened ever since the last part of his surgery. As for the warning of discomfort, well. Barney takes that in stride. He got Shot In The Face <tm>, this can't be worse than that, Right?


The Lieutenant reaches into his mouth, and it's a moment more before the biggest syringe you have EVER SEEN is pulled off the tray. Okay, it's not that big, but it probably looks that way to the Sergeant. She holds it up just far enough in view that he may get a good glimpse, should his eyes still be open, then reaches in to jab his gums to numb. It stings like a bitch.

Years in the future, historians will mark this as the day Agatha Beckett became known as a white knuckle ride. Well, if there's ever a future with historians in it, anyway. Sure, the rumours will spread, and details will get a little mussed up. It's only right. That's how rumours go. Historians will never mention it's because the second her big-ass syringe is sinking into his gums, Barney's eyes squeeze closed and his grip on the chair is… you guessed it. White knuckles.

Aggie jabs four times on the bottom, and four times on the top, all along the gums where the implants were made while he was unconscious, months ago. She, of course, didn't tell him this. So it's quite likely the poor sod expects to meet with the drill this evening. "Very good. I'll give you a moment to numb." Seems like a person should get more than a couple little shots to the gums for having screws inserted up in their jaw, doesn't it? She manages to not give him a face full of smoke as she leans back, and steps away to ash the cigarette in a tray. Yes, she's stepped away! Peace. For a moment. Try not to imagine the size of the drill.

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Repeat for a total of eight times and you get Barney's general emotive state right now. "Way to sound like my prom date, El-tee." Is what he's trying to say. The numbing is a little quicker than he expected, though, so it's more of a "Way too shound lishe mrffomfafe." The gist is there. He's being self-depreciating, that kind of thing trancends verbal legibility.

She really did mean a moment. It's only a very little bit later that Aggie returns with a full hinged mold that may look familiar to Barnabas, since it's of his teeth. It's banded closed to keep the apparatus from falling out of it where it's secured into the left side. "If this were the prom, Sergeant." Snap. She pulls the bands off. Each individual faux porcelain tooth is settled in by itself, secured with a metal bit that has to be ratcheted down. "You wouldn't have time to scream."

"Fhy! Huu haah hy heeh!" 'Hey, you have my teeth!' Barney would have continued onto the whole prom thing, and how it wouldn't have actually been entirely dissimilar to what happened to him but… you know. White knuckling a chair, sudden appearance of his own teeth when he expects to be having part of his jaw… done whatever the hell she said she'd do to it. It's a slow, dawning realisation that takes over the perfectly still man's face. A slow, dawning realisation of being toyed with. "Oh, huu hitch."

Thunk. The little set of hinged jaw castings are set heavily on a tray. She reaches for a packet, and withdraws a very sharp scalpel. She turns it slightly so the light slips off the blade just so. Aggie bends a bit, having left the cigarette behind. Her lips purse briefly as she considers. "I didn't… quite… catch that last bit, Sergeant." She draws out the pronunciation of his rank. The t at the end is very crisp. Her pinky finger comes to rest on his ruined cheek, her fingers just darting into the front of his mouth. The scalpel remains poised. "Would you like to repeat it fore me before I cut?" Or would you rather pray the numbing has taken effect. Life's full of tough choices. Innit?

Barnabas removes one hand to point at his mouth. It's… a peripheral vision message of 'I'll be happy to say it when I can actually say it.' Someone's feeling a little prejudiced against. She's the one who toyed with him over the terrible fate of his mouth. And the one who takes far to much pleasure in her job of causing pain. And the one who could do with wearing a lower cut top when leaning like that. Guess which one of those three Barney WON'T say when he can speak and she's not holding a scalpel? …Don't look at him like that. Barney gets the odd complaint, but on the whole he's been a saint.

The sharp is lowered into his mouth, and the dentist goes to work. Though the numbing takes care of the opening of the thin layer of tissue over the implants in the jaw, a little blood still oozes, and can undoubtedly be tasted. She works quickly, with small, deft hands to push back and uncover the caps. A little stainless steel instrument later and they're pulled off one by one down the line. And she fiddles about in there for a while before she reaches for the first implant. Metal bits go in first, to take the place of the missing tooth root and screw into the implants below. The pressure is a little uncomfortable, as is the torquing. She has to do this several times, front and bottom. "You're lucky. Sergeant. I'm an excellent oral surgeon." Nevermind she smells of cigarettes and evil.

Barney would have trouble complaining even if she was a terrible oral surgeon. It's not like he's willing to make any sudden moves. There's an occasional flicker from his eyes throughout the procedure, as while he's used to tasting blood, and his gums are nice and numb, he can still feel the pressure of the work elsewhere, and it just feels outright ODD. Like, there are things going on in his mouth that should never happen without a bottle of tequila. And maybe some strippers afterwards. Every single instance of torquing gets another eye flicker.

It's not like there's any other oral surgeons aboard vying for the position. It takes a while to install that many implants. He'll be lucky if the numbness lasts long enough to keep him from requiring tequila before he hits the rack. His gums are gonna be sore as shit tomorrow. Yes indeedy! "Just one more, and then we'll put on the porcelain caps. The color match should be excellent." She pauses, then says, "If you don't floss religiously, these implants will fail, and you'll lose them permanently." Oh, in case you were wondering. Torque, torque, torque. She finally reaches for some adhesive.

Oh, the things Barney would say if he could talk. They'd certainly be… interesting. It's quite possible there would be compliments, too! Y'know, after all the repetitions of the word 'Bitch.' When Aggie reaches for the adhesive, the Sergeant gives a very, very curt nod. the Universal symbol of 'I understand what you are saying, entirely. You're the one with the horrifying ability to cause me maximum pain right now.' Apart from that, there's not much else he can do other than put up with the discomfort.

Poking, prodding, gluing. She smashes those teeth down over the implant sleeves once they're secure, and Barney's lips are once again, though numbly, acquainted with teeth. Though these are more resilient than his natural ones. She picks up a little tool to pick the edges, further irritating the gum, but making sure to clear any excess adhesive before it dries. She works in relative silence, leaned in very closed. Just when the pain from the jaw bring propped open probably seems more than could possibly ever be considered okay, Aggie reaches in to remove the rubber brace, and says, "Close your jaw slowly. Let me see how they align."

Ohthankthegodsitsover. Let's not have any misunderstandings, here. Barney is used to pain. Lots of it. His full medical record is quite the sight. Be that as it may, the bout of dentistry he just underwent HURT LIKE A BITCH. Not the actual teeth work, that was just annoying discomfort. Remember his jaw popping at the very start? Yeah. It's been popped open through the entire procedure. Behold the waves of nerve tinglyness that takes over his cheek and jaw. Bask in it. It pops back when he slowly starts to close it, fearful that if he goes too fast, he'll somehow screw it up so bad she'll have to do it all over again.

Aggie takes hold of either side of his face, the gloves serving as a barrier for her hands rubbery against his cheeks, though he can probably only feel it in the one, hm? She runs her fingers along his jaw, prodding the sore side what was propped by not numbed, and then she unceremoniously slides her fingers into his mouth, at either side, running her fingers over his teeth. It's terribly clinical and invasive. Thank the Gods she doesn't have probes of some kind. She stretches his lips and cheeks as it is, manhandling with clinical efficiency. "Don't eat or drink anything until the numbness wears off, then avoid hard foods until your gums have calmed down." She thunks a small bottle from her pocket onto the tray. "Antiseptic mouth wash. It tastes like fermented ass and will make your taste buds go haywire, but use it until the bottle is gone, one dose three times a day."

Her oral invasion would probably be the perfect time for one of those 'not without dinner and a movie' lines, but it's not as if Barney can speak. Instead, like any good male having his mouth molested by a woman, he just puts up with it until she's thunking a bottle down on the tray. The Sergeant simply nods as he picks up it, giving the bottle a once.. twice-over. "Thank you, Lieutenant." His speech is still about as sloppy as you'd expect, but the general feeling remains intact. Look! He's even looking at her face. Apparently his gratefulness for having teeth outweighs the 'I think you just did things to my mouth that should be reported in a sexual harrasment tribunal case.'

Aggie strips the gloves off of her hands one by one, latex slapping off. She does that far too loudly for it to be accidental. Seriously. "Take care of that smile, Sergeant. It's the only one you're ever going to have." The way she said that came out almost like a little curse. She reaches for the cigarette in the tray, only to find it burned down and out. She frowns ever so faintly, then reaches into her pocket to fish out a new one, and to light it. A silver case is snapped shut sharply. "We have a short supply of low grade painkillers. If you need them, come back." The implication is that a marine should be able to take the discomfort. "If any of the crowns slip, let me know." They shouldn't, but you never know.

"Save the painkillers for when the pilots scrape a knee." Damn right he should be able to take the pain, and there's no way in hell Barney will be down here tomorrow giving puppy-dog-eyes to the pharmacist. He stretches his arms above his head for a few moments, then rises from the chair, just a little light-headed. Local anesthetic is never really as local as they claim. He looks like he's about to smile, but… no. Apparently he's not still comfortable enough for that. "Owe you." See? that's gratitude. Now watch as he tries to leave, post haste.

"Yes, you do. Defend the ship. I see you in a coma again, I will put you out of your misery myself," Aggie says after the marine, just quick enough that she's pretty sure he heard her, even up to her last words to him for the evening, "With a pillow." And that, my friends, is hardly a marine's death.

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