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.
Feb. 09/10 SUPER EARLY MORNING? because why not
Tony had also managed to get himself mostly accurate directions to the medbay, not that he found himself being suspicious of the communicator or any of the information that was provided to him by the crew but-- okay, he was a paranoid fuck and didn't trust them as far as he could throw them with two broken arms and no suit. Fight him on it.
Whatever, point was, he found the liquor, and he found the medbay. Now he just needed to charm his way in to--
There is a moment where Tony considers just charming the few people that seem to be milling about but, that was a whole hell of a lot of talking right now, and it wasn't like it was obvious he was carrying alcohol with him (he wasn't joking about his ability to smuggle it okay, all you needed was a plastic bag, a soldering iron, and some imagination) and it was really early so--
Tony double checks the area, using his phone and FRIDAY as an extra set of eyes, before he slips into the room that Maes was supposed to be in.
Sorry, he doesn't knock, just kind of closes the door behind him as quietly as possible before heaving a sigh and sending a far too bright grin from a man that hasn't really slept in like two days. Look, there are important things like sleep, and then Important Things, like alcohol, hacking networks, and so on.
"So, this is certainly one of the easier places to get into on this ship, which is good to note." He runs a hand through his hair and then, tugging on the hideous (but useful!) suit that he was given, pulls out a plastic bag filled with... vodka? And moves to hand it to Maes.
"Also, sorry, no bourbon. At least that I could find this time, this will probably make you numb though."
Sure!
The benefit of the strange communication devices they were gifted with was that Maes recognized the man right away from their conversation. He'd always been good at faces after all. Although, now that he thinks about it, he wasn't sure they'd actually exchanged names. There was just the username to go off of, but he could fix that easily enough.
For the moment, he just returned the smile with one of his own. He was getting better at it now that he'd calmed down a bit, the smile not having to be as forced. "Well, hey, looks like you came through after all. Not sure what that says about their security around the hospital -- something to keep in mind in the future I guess."
He accepted the gift, holding it up to watch it slosh around, before nodding and smirking at the man's assessment of what the drink would probably do. "Sounds good to me. I asked them to leave me some empty cups, they should be over on the tray if you want to grab those and stay for a drink or several." Maes hadn't known when he would arrive, so he'd just had them stashed away for when he did.