trans_9 | Bad Handwriting and Everything [Open]

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Bad Handwriting and Everything [Open]

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, Howard doesn't mind this. It's a nice way to review the day and cement anything he might have learned.

The Quarantine's mostly empty now, which is a definite plus. All those kids were getting Howard crankier and antsier than usual. He brought in a box of toys from the Warehouse, though he didn't bother to check the age ranges for them, so he hopes someone who cares a bit more will take out all the choking hazards before any of the children regress to toddlerhood. He doesn't want anything to do with children; he had enough of that back in that dystopian nightmare he called home. All they do is cry and scream and demand things and kill each other and eat all the food and lie and burn down buildings and generally make life unpleasant. Not that adults are always better, but at least someone's around to enforce order here.

He hums a snippet of Cliffs of Dover to himself, chewing on the end of a Tinker Toy, and starts typing in his notes.

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"Ah." He smiled, relaxed and at ease as he poured a second cup. "Haven't had much cause for that around here. Sometimes I forget. Sugar? Or whatever this stuff is? The coffee tastes a bit like curry, cocoa and a sack of coffee got mixed together somehow. Bit off-putting at first, but you get used to it. And it wakes you up, and when it comes to hospital coffee, that's really the only thing you need to worry about."

He kept himself relaxed, knowing he was being judged. It was almost funny, in it's own way. After everything;monsters, dying, creepy fish people, tentacles...and here he was being sized up by a teenager. Normal. If the wall wasn't breathing he could have been home right now. "Rory. Rory Williams. And yours?"

He could add 'not used to having a regular food source' to the list. So either an orphan with bad fosters or something else.

"Sugar, yeah. Whatever you got to give it calories." He raises an eyebrow at the mention of curry. "Flavors from India, maybe?"

"Howard Bassem. I've been here a few months." He doesn't offer a handshake, since Rory didn't initiate one and he likes his personal space unless with close friends. Or, really, his only close friend.

Rory may be nice, so far, but he's also self-aware, and that potentially makes him dangerous. Howard looks relaxed but, as usual for meeting new people, is ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

He takes the coffee and takes a big gulp, tilting his head back the way people take shots, a learned habit to avoid taste. He winces as it burns on the way down - a bit too hot. He looks torn between taking another sip and not, reluctantly deciding that the coffee will probably still be there thirty seconds from now, and cradling the mug to his chest. "Doesn't taste nearly as bad as you told me it would."

"No problem." He gave the thing a brief stir, turning and carrying the mug to Howard's desk. "Still learning everyone's name around here. Been busy, what with all the goings on. It's nice to meet you properly."

He watched, quiet and sipping at his own mug. So, also not used to bothering about taste. "It's a bit odd but I think I'm used to it now. Maybe more similar to what they have on your world?"

"You're telling me about busy. I'm barely getting any sleep between this and salvage. Not to mention God, the freaking kids..." He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Being surrounded by children is not his idea of a good time, and it's brought all those survivalist quirks back to the surface. "Nice to meet you too."

"Man, on my world people would shank each other over coffee. I've seen eight year-olds tear each others' hair out over spoiled cole slaw."

"Yeah, I understand that. I don't think I've seen my fiancee awake for more than five minutes since this started. It's worse than anything I've seen before. The kids aren't bad, well, some of them, some of them are right terrors. You have experience with kids?"

His eyebrow quirked, quiet and thoughtful. "Really? What's your world like, then, that they're in such desperate need of food?" He smiled faintly. "No shanking, just ask. There's something about a warm mug and a hot drink that makes things better."

"Your fiancee's here?" And yes, that is a tinge of jealousy. Howard's most important person is still somewhere in the pods, maybe.

"Depends on what you count as experience. If you mean keeping them from robbing my house, telling them to back off and making sure they don't ruin the remaining food as experience, then yeah, I'm great with kids," he says, deeply sarcastic. He's not even bothering to hide his feelings about them. He chances another swig of coffee - still too hot, but he down the entire mug anyway. "You ever read Lord of the Flies?"

"She is. We woke up together." But he didn't elaborate further. Not everyone had their people there. It wasn't a nice thing to rub in.

"Sounds like some sort of experience, even if nothing positive. No, I haven't. Has that got something to do with it?"

That would have been nice to have, Howard thinks. He was the first person from his world here, and that would have been disorienting enough without having to meet all the new people.

Rory's the first person he's run into who isn't familiar with the story. "When I was fourteen everyone over the age of fifteen vanished into thin air and these big electrical walls came up around a ten mile radius. Oh, and evil mutant animals. Just follow how that went to its natural conclusion."

He tries to stay looking nonchalant about it, but he grabs the Tinker Toy from his desk and starts chewing on it again. He still remembers the hunger the most, although at night it's usually nightmares about the more violent ways kids died in the FAYZ. "You got more coffee?"

It had been, and the Doctor had been waiting for them. This really wasn't all that different from his normal life, these days, only they couldn't pop off to have a steak on one of the moons of Venus.

"Ah. Yes, that would explain it." He pressed his lips, thoughtful. "You must have been tough, to survive something like that." He held out his hand for the mug, turning to fill it from the pot. "How old were you?"

Probably lived in constant fear of starvation, which meant that the slop was some sort of gift from the heavens for him, rather than a chore like for the rest of them.

"Fourteen. Barely. I was one of the oldest kids there, which came with absolutely no perks at all except all the younger kids expected us eighth graders to solve all their problems." He squirms a little bit at the idea of being 'tough'. That was never it, it was always resourcefulness and heartlessness and an ability to put himself and Orc before even the most basic concepts of morality that kept him alive. 'Tough' implies that he hardened from the experience, when all it did was wear him down and make him live in fear. He takes the mug back quickly, bringing it again close to his body.

"Fourteen. Wow. That's impressive." He watched, quiet, reading the teenagers body language. "But still, you survived. Others didn't. And it must have been frightening to bump up against the age of the vanished and not know if you would yourself or not. It's impressive that you endured that and came out sane." He let the approval leak into his voice, he hadn't met an undamaged teenager since he had arrived. It was becoming strangely normal to slip back into his training for dealing with abused kids.

"When people turn fifteen they get tempted to vanish. You have to focus real hard on staying to stick around. Not that I blame the kids who didn't because, let's face it, the FAYZ is a themepark for misery, but I had to stick around for Orc on my fifteenth."

He shrugs, starting to avoid eye contact. He's not really ashamed of how he and Orc got by in the FAYZ, but he doesn't want to go into details. Most people won't excuse the drug-dealing, or even if they do, they might be like Zouichi and keep it as ammunition for a later verbal beatdown. The fewer people that know, the better. "I was there about a year and a third of the kids died."

"That makes it worse, doesn't it? Thinking that maybe everyone else had the same choice? It was very brave of you to stay, even if it would have been easier to go. I'm sure your friend appreciated the fact that you stayed."

Ah, they were brushing up against something the teen didn't want to talk about. But that wasn't uncommon, anymore than the fact that Howard didn't seem to have altruistic tendencies outside of his loyalty to 'Orc'. That was very common among kids who had been forced into an environment that was completely unsympathetic. "Then that your survived it means so much more, doesn't it?" He didn't like the thought of dying children, it made his skin crawl. But mentioning that to Howard seemed like a quick way to fail.

"Look, if you're trying to give me a pep talk because you heard teenagers are into low self-esteem this year, I don't need it. I'm fine." Honestly, he doesn't know if Orc appreciated that he stayed, or had even realized the significance of that day. He doesn't like to try and figure it out. He just knows Orc wouldn't have gotten by on his own.

He's on guard again with Rory - something about the flattery reminds him of Caine, or of school counselors, neither of whom he had good experiences with. "So what's your deal, Rory? Obviously you seem to think you know a lot about teenagers."

"Pep talk? No, I do think it's impressive. You've been through a lot and you've handled it well and you're still living, not just surviving. Not a lot of people that could do that. Even here, you're here later than a lot of other people trying to piece things together. That's an admirable trait."

Prickly was an understatement, it seemed more like he was dealing with an exploding hedgehog than a teenager. Anything might be the wrong thing to say, and it was impossible to know until he said it. "Some, yeah. I took a few classes, was one once. I'm just a nurse though and I was curious about a coworker."

Rory earns a skeptical look from that. "I'm here late because I take notes by hand." Not because he hates his housemate, doesn't like downtime and worries about getting to sleep each night, clearly.

"And unless Stacy's started taking random nurses from their lives, what's the rest of your story?"

"Bit more familiar, isn't it? Tactile. I prefer it, sometimes. Especially if I'm just trying to get my thoughts out, even if the tech is loads better than anything we have at home." He leaned back against the desk, looking away. "Wouldn't be the first time something had grabbed a random nurse away from their lives, would it? Traveled a bit with the Doctor, probably why."

Edited 2011-05-23 00:30 (UTC)

"I always worry the power's going to go out. These things run on battery, right?" he says, holding up his data pad. "Why waste battery on something that you can do on paper?"

Howard squints a bit at the way Rory looks away. Getting into unpleasant territory? "Well, yeah, nurses and doctors usually hang out together. Travel? Like Doctors Without Borders or something?"

"The ship powers them, if it is a battery, I haven't seen it close to burning out yet. It's probably safe." But the worry made sense, considering what he knew about Howard now. "I don't think there's a problem with paper notes, though."

He smiled, shaking his head. "Ah, no. Not a doctor, The Doctor. Bit different, really. He's a time traveler."

"Great. So if the ship's power goes down, maybe we won't even have these." He makes a face at the data pad. "Though I guess we'll be too worried about the atmosphere for medical records to be a huge problem."

"Ah. That explains it." Howard sounds satisfied with that answer. "Why do you travel with him?"

"Yeah, I think that'd be more of a concern than accessing medical records. Though we do have other ships on board with independent atmosphere. So we'd probably be alright." He studied the wall for a moment, glancing back at Howard.

"Why'd you stay, when you could have gone?"

"Yeah? And how many people can fit in those ships? And how many people are going to listen to evacuation procedures without just taking a ship and running?"

Howard doesn't want to answer that, so he tries to turn it back on Rory. "So you followed someone?"

"I haven't looked at the schematics or the evacuation plan, myself. Have you? But I'd imagine we could fit most of the awake crew members, my concern would be the people still sleeping. It's rather more difficult to move the pods."

He frowned, making a mental note to ask after any sort of evacuation plan. So far he'd been depending on the Doctor, but they needed to have a plan. He was responsible for people on this ship.

"Yeah. Amy, she traveled with him first and wanted me to come with. People are a good reason to do loads of things, I think. If they're important enough."

All the more reason for Howard to hope Orc shows up so he won't have to worry about the fate of the pods anymore. "I've taken a look, I just don't think it'll work with a bunch of people panicking and trying to breathe shallow. People don't stay nearly as calm in emergencies as those kinds of plans ride on."

He gets up and pours more coffee without asking this time, filling it to the brim and bringing back too many sugar packets. "Amy your girlfriend?"

"No, but we've less civilians, which are normal the cause of panic, and more hero types. Police types, more like. So it shouldn't be as chaotic. But let's keep our fingers crossed, I don't relish the idea of finding out. You know?"

Something quiet and fond slid across his face, unconscious but obvious. "Fiancee. Yeah, that'd be her."

He wasn't sure if he should feel proud or not, Howard getting his own coffee. He'd meant it for the medical staff and...well, children who had been through situations where food was limited had a poor trust of the availability of food after escaping the situation. Hoarders, by nature. He'd seen kids stuff their beds full of biscuits and always ask for more and get sick on food. It might not be there later, eat as much as you can. One of the saddest things he'd ever seen. "I've a tin of biscuits in my desk, want a couple? Too much coffee on an empty stomach always makes me feel queasy."

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