Holes and Patches [OPEN FREE FOR ALL]

[leapoffayth.livejournal.com]

After the battle, the warriors' task was over. Their job, for now, was to rest and recover for the time being.

The healers' job, on the other hand, was far from over. Some exhausted from the battle, others rotating in, they took to their bay and continued the process of treating the wounded. Some patients were free to leave in a few minutes, while others would have some time (or quite some time) on the cots. Their mission: relax. Stay as still as possible.

Unfortunately, the temptation of so many familiar faces alive and about would ultimately prove to be too great. Keeping track of this group was going to be a third task all its own.

[this is a free for all for all your injured! Have them socialize, be thorns in the medics' side, try to escape, or bring the medics together for some action. Just note in your post if you'd like a medic to visit your character---if not, it's time for a chat!]

Comments

Da Masta | open

[syncopath]

The Master may be lying on one of these cots, true, but he isn't happy about it. Everything in his body posture screams tension, from the set jaw to the rapid tap of his fingers on the cot frame. He'd have left long ago, except that his body refuses to cooperate; each time he attempts to so much as sit up, the drums become unbearable and a dizzying wave of nausea overtakes him.

He supposes it may have something to do with his brain nearly being cooked in its skull. Should have had the Doctor plug that cable into Stacy. Shouldn't have listened to the Doctor in the first place, even. Should have stayed in the TARDIS and let the Ohm eat him.

[atruedoctor.livejournal.com]

Blame it on the overwhelming crush of people, or the joy of victory, but Martha was paying less attention than she should have been. It was all autopilot at this point, really. Check patient chart, check vitals, small talk, rinse, repeat.

Now would have been a good time to pay attention.

Walking up to the Master's cot she grabbed the chart and gave it a good study, speaking as she checked.

"Right, how are you feeling?"

[syncopath]

His fingers halted for a few beats, the Master lying there frozen in mid-tap. Oh, perfect. Saint Martha Jones as his nurse. He'd be surprised if the Doctor hadn't orchestrated this as some sort of passive-aggressive payback.

He smiled widely, staring her straight in the face until she happened to notice with whom she was dealing. "Oh, much better now," he purred.

[atruedoctor.livejournal.com]

To those who heard no drums pounding away in their heads, the only sounds was the patient clipboard slipping from Martha's fingers and clattering to the ground.

"You ... no, no, no, you're dead! I saw you die!"

A great first thing to say, Martha. Of course, this man had been her nightmare, the thing that tortured her and her parents, Jack, and the Doctor with glee for a year. His death had kept her going after she left the Doctor, knowing "life can't get worse now, he's gone."

Well, how wrong she was.

[syncopath]

The Master's smile graduated to a full-on grin. He only wished he could sit up, get closer. Throttle the living daylights out of her. Then this would have been perfect. He'd have to settle for, well, unsettling her from here, and hope she didn't notice quite how vulnerable he was at the moment.

"Hmm. Well, I decided death was so boring. Much more interesting things to do here, wouldn't you agree?" He chuckled, ignoring the pounding in his head that wasn't entirely drums.

"Oh, Martha, Martha, Martha Jones. You still don't know the first thing, do you? As if one little bullet could stop me."

[atruedoctor.livejournal.com]

Well, that plan for unsettling? Working marvelously. He'd gotten her with the upper hand in this one, and all at once she wanted to run and scream. But she wouldn't, not in front of him. That was a satisfaction she wouldn't give. With a shaking hands she crossed her arms, putting on a stance of rage rather than fear. The effect was probably mixed at best, but hell she had to try.

"Interesting things. Whatever your ideas of interesting, they won't happen I promise you that."

[syncopath]

The Master breathed in deeply, closing his eyes. Along with the smirk it must have looked like a comfortable sigh from the outside, but on the inside his head reeled and screamed.

"You seem so sure." He cracked open an eye. "Still living in the TARDIS?"

[atruedoctor.livejournal.com]

"I am sure. For one you're on a hospital bed. Or are you plotting to use up all our medical supplies?"

Ha, take that. A small jab, but a revelation to her. He clearly had to be here for something, unless it was of course to make her day hell. That mission was already accomplished. But he wasn't getting up or causing a ruckus. He very well may be sick or wounded after all. And that meant Martha had the upper hand.

She told herself that, anyway. It certainly made her feel better after the blow that he was still alive.

"That's really not anything I'm going to tell you."

[syncopath]

"So that's a yes, then," the Master flashed a rather cheeky smile. As much as Martha may have physically had the upper hand, he wasn't about to give in so easily. And that meant poking as many holes in her false sense of complacency as he could.

"'Sfunny. I don't remember running into you earlier."

Re: Da Masta | open

[zouichi.livejournal.com]

Zouichi stopped on his way through Medical, frowning a little at the sight of the Master trying to sit up. "Are you all right?" he asked softly, so as not to exacerbate the man's pain. From the state of the man's chart, at least, it seemed someone had been in to look at him.

"Do you need anything?"

Sorry this is short-- waiting to see what Marfa did to/for him ;D

[syncopath]

"Could do with a more qualified doctor," the Master snapped, loud enough so that if Martha was still in the vicinity, she'd hear it.

No problem, I'll just wait till you find out more :)

[zouichi.livejournal.com]

Zouichi glanced back reflexively in the direction the Master was looking, but it seemed most of the medics were rather indisposed, so he put a brief message out over the comms instead.

"Unfortunately," he said, "I'm not really a doctor. I can do some basic medicking, but that's it. What happened to you?"

The Master looked like he was a little worse off than the standard bumps, bruises, and broken bones that afflicted most of those on the battlefield.

[syncopath]

He raised his hands slowly, showing off the burns on the palms. "Little electrical accident," the Master said, and then, unbelievably, giggled.

Surely he'd be fine with a little bed rest. He was a Time Lord, after all. Surely?

[zouichi.livejournal.com]

Zouichi raised an eyebrow at the giggling. Wow, okay. Had this guy hit his head on top of everything else? "Looks like more than a 'little'."

He didn't have any medical supplies at the moment, but maybe he could keep the man talking for a while until it was time for his shift. At least distract him a little from the pain.

"You weren't playing around with any faulty wiring or anything, were you?"

[syncopath]

The Master had to full-on laugh at that sort of question, and then decided quickly after that laughing was a Very Bad Idea.

"Undoubtedly," he murmured, closing his eyes.

[zouichi.livejournal.com]

Ha ha ha, it was hilarious when you blew yourself up. Except not really. Zoucihi took a moment to glance over the Master, trying to assess his level of injuries. He didn't seem like he was going to roll over and die or anything.

"Right. My name is Zouichi; I'm part of Security here."

[syncopath]

Really, it was probably funnier to a Time Lord. The Master re-opened his eyes to consider Zouichi, with maybe a touch more wariness in them.

"Security? Not going to arrest me, are you?" Oh, wouldn't that be just like the Doctor, to pawn his little 'mortal enemy' problem off on someone else at first opportunity.

Re: Da Masta | open

[makeherblue]

"Maybe you shouldn't have used those parts for the accelerator," a familiar voice says over his bed. "You know how my TARDIS gets around people she doesn't like."

The Doctor materializes next to the Master. He's still rather cross at him for cannibalizing the old girl for parts but without the Master, they probably would've been killed by the Ohm. So it isn't as if the Master hadn't helped. He'd just...somehow helped while aiming a little nasty kick at the same time. Or maybe the Doctor's imagining it and being a tiny but paranoid but he thinks he's known the Master long enough to recognize that even being helpful he has a certain "flare".

Right now the Doctor's armed with his handkerchief, a red stuffy nose, and quite possibly a game of chess to keep the Master entertained.

The chess is more of a hopeful afterthought, really. He doesn't expect the Master to want to go back to the days of games with him. At least not those sorts.

[syncopath]

The Master's eyes slide toward the chess set under the Doctor's arm. Isn't it just like him to try to be 'helpful' and 'considerate' in all the wrong ways. What's worse, though, is that he's almost bored enough to entertain the thought of actually playing.

"Really," he clears his throat, dares to attempt sitting up again. The room spins, but not nearly as much. That's a plus. What isn't is the bile in the back of his throat all of a sudden. The Master swallows it back down carefully, not about to let the Doctor see him sick all over the cot.

Then again, he could just be sick all over the Doctor. Now there's a hearts-warming thought.

"She didn't seem to spare you at all, last I remember. What's the matter? Honeymoon over?"

[makeherblue]

The Doctor watches as the Master makes a very good attempt at propping himself up. He's handling himself surprisingly well, considering.

Then again, he always did have a thing keeping up appearances.

Instead of rising to the bait, the Doctor turns and sets the game of chess down. The Master knows where to hit, even if he's on good behavior, relatively speaking, and he supposes it's too much to ask for things to be the way they used to between them. As it is, this is probably better than normal. The Doctor seems to find the chess game interesting, his hands fluttering over it as he adjusts it and then adjusts it again before suddenly glancing back over at the Master.

"Did you see anything?" The Doctor suddenly veers far far into left field. "When the TARDIS shocked you?"

He peers at the Master as if he's just as fascinating as his favorite humans.

[syncopath]

While the Doctor fusses over the chess set, obviously flustered, the Master sits as still as possible. At the moment, he's too exhausted to really press the issue and far more concerned with tamping down futilely against the drums raging through his head. The bit of awkward silence is nice, in some ways. Infuriating in others; he wants the Doctor to sink to his level, petulant as it is.

"See anything?" he repeats blearily, with a small smirk. "My lives flashing before my eyes, all the regrets of days past, that sort of thing?"

[makeherblue]

The Doctor finally finishes with the chess set, moving to sit down next to the Master instead of moving away, all because a small part of him might be that petty and knows perfectly well that the Master would rather have some time alone. It's not a part of him he's proud of. The Doctor settles into the chair, fidgets, straightens his trousers, which are in much better shape than his tweed jacket, and fixes the Master with one of those looks only he gets.

"Something like that. Anything interesting, really," the Doctor leans forward. It's...odd to be sitting here speaking with the Master and not having to expect some sort of, say, creative attempt on his life.

Does he trust the Master? No, but he likes to think positive and so far the Master is behaving suspiciously well so far.

The Doctor laces his fingers together in his lap. "You were connected to both Stacy and the TARDIS," he points out. "Not something that comes along everyday."

Hmmm, I wonder if I should do something with that later

[syncopath]

He should have known, really. Just when the Master thinks the Doctor can't get any more irritating, he manages to surprise. The Master shrinks away carefully as the Doctor leans in, furrowing his brow as he tries to process the question. It's harder than it should be.

"Yes. Chance of a lifetime. I certainly took the time to realize that as I was being electrified. But I didn't see anything!" He stops, the drums pounding so hard and fast he can barely hear anything else, his hand balled into a fist. With a small, long-suffering sigh, the Master sinks back onto the cot.

Could be something! I didn't think of it until now

[makeherblue]

The Doctor fixes the Master with one of those looks. Maybe it's this regeneration or maybe it's trying to reconcile the fact that this isn't the same Master out there in the wasteland, but he's actually unsure how to read him. After all these centuries, all those lives. And now he can't tell if he's being sarcastic or showing genuine regret. The Doctor tilts his head as the other Time Lord slumps back, studying him like he would his companions.

The difference, however, is that the Master's anything but. He's dangerous. Even on his best behavior, the Doctor reminds himself that he's not some human he can amaze with a short hop to the Moon.

"Ah, my mistake," the Doctor says quietly. He laces and unlaces his fingers together in his lap, as if looking for something to do with his hands. He doesn't say anything for a moment, until it occurs him to ask. "Do you still hear them, by the way?"

He doesn't think he needs to specify what "them" is.

[syncopath]

Oh, he's regretting quite a bit right now. In the first place, not hiding in the TARDIS and letting the Doctor bear the brunt of his little plan. It could be him on this cot, and the Master torturing him with irritating small talk. No. He'd do worse. Much, much worse.

Entertaining the thought of just how he's going to repay the Doctor for this only gets him so far, though, before the questions start again. This time the Master chuckles almost lazily, his eyes closed. They're so loud, he's continually surprised that the other Time Lord can't hear it for himself.

"What do you think?" he spits out in a hiss.