Lt. Col. Maes Hughes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dadandgone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
starlogs2017-02-12 07:56 pm
dadandgone) wrote in starlogs2017-02-12 07:56 pm
Entry tags:
[Open] Expecting Company
WHO: Maes Hughes & Open
WHERE: Recovery Bay
WHEN: Feb. 09; Evening -- During or Shortly After This Post
WHAT: Maes Hughes is under orders for medical bed rest and has convinced some people to come keep him entertained.
WARNINGS: Possible mentions of injuries sustained from gunshot wounds? Also language
Maes Hughes clicked the communicator closed and leaned his head back to rest on the pillows supporting him. What a day. He didn't even know where to begin processing everything he was taking in from the network. There was a lot of information to process even before he'd figured out how to work the device on his wrist now, well, now it was almost too much.
He felt tired, possibly more exhausted than he'd been in a very long time. But who could blame him? His hand came up to rest on his chest, feeling the bandages beneath the fabric and wondering just how the hell he was alive. He accepted the fact that this place was advanced well beyond his imagination, but to be able to extract a bullet from around the heart and NOT kill him? That seemed less like science and more like a freaking miracle. He should be dead. That homunculus had left him bleeding out from a gunshot wound to the chest and he should be dead. But he wasn't and part of him wondered if that was really for the best or not. Either way he was now without his friends and family, essentially abandoning them to whatever plot the homunculus and their ilk had in store for them and the country. At least if he were dead he wouldn't have to suffer from that fact.
"Dammit. Roy is supposed to be the sulky one, not you," he cursed, eliciting a bitter laugh from himself. God he hated being left alone with his thoughts -- it never led anywhere good. And Roy wondered why he always insisted on getting a wife. Maes sighed, sitting back up and grabbing a notebook from nearby. It was something he needled one of the medical robot things to bring him. He didn't care if the wrist communicator had a similar function -- he still wasn't 100% sure about how secure or how accurate it was. At least writing on pen and paper was something reliable, something he felt familiar with and trusted a little more than this. He flipped it open and started writing. He knew he might have some visitors coming soon, but he had to get this information down now while it was fresh on his mind.
He wouldn't look up again until someone else entered the room -- preferably knocking first.
WHERE: Recovery Bay
WHEN: Feb. 09; Evening -- During or Shortly After This Post
WHAT: Maes Hughes is under orders for medical bed rest and has convinced some people to come keep him entertained.
WARNINGS: Possible mentions of injuries sustained from gunshot wounds? Also language
Maes Hughes clicked the communicator closed and leaned his head back to rest on the pillows supporting him. What a day. He didn't even know where to begin processing everything he was taking in from the network. There was a lot of information to process even before he'd figured out how to work the device on his wrist now, well, now it was almost too much.
He felt tired, possibly more exhausted than he'd been in a very long time. But who could blame him? His hand came up to rest on his chest, feeling the bandages beneath the fabric and wondering just how the hell he was alive. He accepted the fact that this place was advanced well beyond his imagination, but to be able to extract a bullet from around the heart and NOT kill him? That seemed less like science and more like a freaking miracle. He should be dead. That homunculus had left him bleeding out from a gunshot wound to the chest and he should be dead. But he wasn't and part of him wondered if that was really for the best or not. Either way he was now without his friends and family, essentially abandoning them to whatever plot the homunculus and their ilk had in store for them and the country. At least if he were dead he wouldn't have to suffer from that fact.
"Dammit. Roy is supposed to be the sulky one, not you," he cursed, eliciting a bitter laugh from himself. God he hated being left alone with his thoughts -- it never led anywhere good. And Roy wondered why he always insisted on getting a wife. Maes sighed, sitting back up and grabbing a notebook from nearby. It was something he needled one of the medical robot things to bring him. He didn't care if the wrist communicator had a similar function -- he still wasn't 100% sure about how secure or how accurate it was. At least writing on pen and paper was something reliable, something he felt familiar with and trusted a little more than this. He flipped it open and started writing. He knew he might have some visitors coming soon, but he had to get this information down now while it was fresh on his mind.
He wouldn't look up again until someone else entered the room -- preferably knocking first.