suitably_heroic | A Medical Facility, Manaan, Monday Fandom Time

"I can't believe he actually has friends," Mira muttered. "I mean, I know some of you saw one, but I'm still pretty sure that was just a vivid hallucination."

Mical plucked the comlink out of her hands. "He does," he said, "and I have just notified them of his present state. It is a shame we couldn't recover this earlier; I can only imagine they have been worried."

Mira rolled her eyes at him.

"... all right, he is overly abrasive," Mical allowed. "But he took a beating because we could not exercise patience." He looked up towards the kolto tank that still held Atton's now largely-healed body. Unfortunately, they had not been in time, and some of the scars that loomed large across the man's torso and arms were... ugly.

At least they had been received well here in Ahto City. It made things easier - and gave them a chance to consider the future.

"They're planning to take him out in about ten minutes," Mira said, hopping off the cabinet she'd been sitting on. "Do you wanna be here when he gets out? Because I don't. Someone's going to have to tell him about Meetra."

"True," Mical said. "Perhaps we'll be lucky and he will take it with grace..."

"I wouldn't count on it," she said, strolling past him and out of the room.

He blew out a sigh and turned back towards the tank. "I suppose I will be here, then..."

[[ for those who know who they are - and a little bit of ocd ]]

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It wouldn't be more than a few minutes before it all began - the resident Selkath moved into action, beginning the process of draining the kolto. Mical stayed on hand, glancing back and forth between the tank and the entrance - just in case someone made it in.

Atton himself paid no such attention. In that tank, he was a mess of muscle and scars and the faint hint of an old Sith tattoo by his hip - and no consciousness to speak of.

Until the breathing mask came off, anyway.

When the process was complete, Atton was dropped off in a seat on the other side of the medical bay. They'd given him a tunic to put on - something he was now doing, while muttering vague insults under his breath.

Stupid kolto process.

'Cause.

Anakin stood by the tank, trying to distract himself with the ancient tech (as he was still a snob about that), instead of focusing on the number of scars a kid that young had managed to rack up.

He wasn't worried. Shush.

Cade hated medical bays. Hated. He hated the smell, he hated the quiet, he hated everything about the sterile cleanness.

He wrapped his arms around himself, found a corner to push himself into where he could watch as many of the exits as possible and waited for Atton.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Sparkle was murmuring under his breath as he watched the tank drain. Yeah, Atton was not looking too great. Sparkle was trying to figure out if this was better or worse than that one night in the warehouse.

Better, he settled on, based on the fact that they were in the process of getting him out of that thing and waking him up.

Even so.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

Sparkle wasn't even going to bother with words. Sparkle had been thinking of the important shit on his way out the door to get his ass here, and he'd packed the essentials.

Well. He'd packed one bottle of Fireball whiskey. Which he was silently offering to Cade now.

Nothing about this was familiar or even vaguely comfortable to Sparkle, and under any other circumstances, he would probably be worrying more about his surroundings than he was. But here and now? Well, fuck, he'd spent the last week almost positive that Atton was dead, and here he wasn't, and Sparks was far more invested in pacing back and forth and waiting to talk to the guy (or hug him, or punch him, or cry on him, Sparkle hadn't decided which yet) than he was in worrying about all of this creepy-looking space hospital stuff.

So, yep. Pacing. Anxiously.

It took some time for the worry Anakin radiated to become a nuisance, but in time it did. "He will be all right," Mical said. "The Selkath have assured me that nothing vital has been-- removed."

"The worst is long since over," Mical said, in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "This is merely ceremony, if that."

Took a couple of runs of the towel through his hair before it stopped being sticky before Atton considered himself halfway presentable or whatever, but fine. Presentable.

He was not going to think about how weird Cade looked all rolled up in a ball like that, because that just made him comfortable.

"You wouldn't happen to know how to get a decent bottle of juma in here?" he said, swaggering up to the guy out of physical awkwardness instead of intent.

After a couple of rounds, Atton looked up. Squinted. Muttered, "Stop that, you're giving me a headache, they're gonna put me back in there if I do."

That... did not actually make Sparkle feel much better, no.

"How bad was the worst?"

Where he was sitting, the worst was looking pretty not great.

"I drank all of his other stuff," Cade said with a tiny, tiny smile as he accepted the bottle. "Tough poodoo for him."

Well, at least Atton knew how to stop Sparkle's anxious pacing in a pinch. Sparkle looked his way, seemed to take a moment to kind of process that he'd been spoken to, and then he was launching himself in Atton's direction.

... At least he also had the presence of mind to not just straight-up tackle him, here. But he was sure as hell going in for the hug.

"Scared the fucking shit out of me, asshole."

"Ask Sparks," Cade said with a grin he couldn't hold in. "He came prepared. You look like poodoo."

"He had it coming," Sparkle declared, crouching down beside Cade. "He can't leave messages like the ones he left for me and then expect to come back to his booze stash, you know? Not going to happen."

Mical sighed.

"Ah... for a moment at the beginning, it looked as if they would be forced to amputate the arm," he said. "Or worse."

"I did a quick appendage check already," Anakin admitted. "It's only prudent when you're fighting with lightsabers. Did anyone use Force lightning?"

Because that stuff hurt like a bitch.

"He told me to drink it," Cade said. "Wasn't gonna say no to that. Not with that kind of asshole message."

"I feel like someone released an entire herd of bantha on me," Atton complained, "and then threw the poodoo in after them."

Sparkle made a face that suggested that he was realizing that he probably didn't actually want to know, after all.

"Ah. Shit." He swallowed, and then shook his head. "But, like, everything is all attached, right? He's not gonna get out of there and walk around for a bit and then realize he's been missing his spleen or something, oops?"

"Ow, ow, ow, Sparks, watch the ribs--"

Sure, Sparkle was a skinny thing, but still. Ow.

"Teach you to get into a stoopa...whatever the kark you did," Cade said, glaring. "Your message wasn't exactly heavy on detail."

"Wait, he told you to drink his stash? Damn, he just told me not to be an idiot."

And so Sparkle had burned through what little alcohol he'd had on hand at the time, and then had screamed his throat raw trying to force Atton into answering the phone with the power of his voice alone.

Edited 2014-07-21 13:07 (UTC)

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A Medical Facility, Manaan, Monday Fandom Time

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Afterwards

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