Lieutenant Jo Marshall - A Rodulan Footstool

[Jo Marshall]

(( Sickbay Recovery, Deck Seven - USS Gorkon ))

::A chair dragged across the floor and scraped up beside the biobed of one unconscious Caedan Nkai, having undergone a recent spleen transplant, among other injuries. Jo placed the package she was carrying on the small table beside the biobed, then ruffled up his hair a bit before dropping into the chair.::

Marshall: How're you doing, champ?

::There was obviously no reply from the comatose individual laid up. With his eyes shut, he looked so unlike himself, all dark-eyed and mysterious at the best of times. The lack of his usual jaunty smile made his face look oddly set, but he was breathing soundly. It was a peculiar disparity - now that the rest of them were out of the dream world, Caedan was soundly snoring away in his own.::

Marshall: Yeah, I know. I'm a sight for sore eyes. It's only been hours, stop getting so sentimental. Anyone would think we're friends. 

::Unwrapping the package, she took out a swuit stick - one from a bundle of six - a raspberry one Caedan called "breshen". She stuck it on the inside of her cheek and continued.::

Marshall: Those four-lobes of yours kept you out of this... ::She raised an lowered her hand, trying to find the right word.:: ...neurological field that kept us all under. I'm not sure I got the best deal out of this. 

::Jo leaned forward and crossed her arms, leaning on the edge of his bed. The monitors above Caedan's head flashed and ticked away happily, visualising all the cycles going on inside his mind and body. She wiped her hands over her face.::

Marshall: It was weird. It's still weird. Everyone's alright, by the way. At least I think they are. Hard to say really. The things some did in there, the memories... I don't think it's as easy to separate from all that. And Lanta isn't Lanta anymore. He's Kian now, so that'll take some getting used to. 

::She sat back in the chair and watched his face. He didn't move an inch, not even a tick. Whatever they had him on had to be good stuff to keep a Rodulan under the realms of consciousness.::

Marshall: Your operation went well. You've got a whole new spleen to corrupt. ::She chuckled.:: And, here we are, back orbiting Palanon, and we can't go to Iana Station. 

::The eternal party, raging on the lower decks, beneath all the shopping district and habitation decks above. The latest time they'd been there, there were mighty hangovers to contend with. It didn't stop them from doing it the next night though. The memory elicited a chuckle from the woman and she rolled the swuit stick around in her mouth before speaking to his motionless form in a conspiratorial whisper.::

Marshall: Do you want me to bust you out of here? Blink once for yes, and don't do anything for no. ::Obviously, he didn't move.:: Spoilsport. Even out for the count, you'd be the best dancer in the place. 

::It was a shame the recovery ward didn't have windows. Looking out over the vastness of Palanon was a delight when they were close enough, and Ereina was in the distance. Jo recalled meeting up with Erin on the moon, when she'd taken up the post as a civilian biologist, and how happy she'd been to see her after a year.::

Marshall: Everyone's grateful for what you did, you know. Sending out that distress call, keeping yourself alive. There's not many that could have done that. Especially after getting yourself shot. ::Her gaze flitted up to the nursing staff, bustling around, ready to start their rounds.:: You know the Admiral's going to make you have a parade or something in the yacht with ticker tape and banners. 

::Again, no movement from the Rodulan and she'd given up expecting any now. Instead, she produced her PADD from her pocket, and much to the dismay of the nursing staff, propelled back the chair and kicked up her boots onto the edge of his biobed, crossing her feet.::

Marshall: So, considering you can't protest about it, I thought we'd make a start on a Vulcan romance novel. ::She cocked an eyebrow at him.:: You've got the time, right? Nowhere to shoot off too? ::No answer. Perfect.:: I didn't think so. 

::One flick of the finger brought up the book.:: 

Marshall: Chapter One. Is it better to have logically loved and lost than...

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Lieutenant Jocelyn Marshall

Chief Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

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