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Passengers: Jason & Ellie (and maybe Aki??); Jason & Claire
Location: Athletics Department; Med bay
Date: uh... a few days after arrival? Whenever that was...
Summary: yanno.. more withdrawal, more shitty attitude and language
Warnings: see above ig

Basketball shenanigans by 2 ppl that aren't in the condition to game
-- For Ellie and Aki (??)

Jason acted far better off through text than he really was in person. He looked pretty worse for wear, though. Felt like shit, too--a near blinding headache, shakey hands, sweat sicked hair sticking to his forehead. He was anxious (more than usual) and a lot more moody than usual, too. He'd even thought about calling it off; thought about actually going to see Claire first but he didn't wanna look like he was backing out of anything. Not against Ellie, anyway.

He's been here before, though. He can do it. It's fine. So, having changed out of the fucking gear Jason actually arrived in and into something more him -- a baggy red hoodie, washed-out jeans and broken in converse shoes -- Todd set out toward the gym area shoving one hand in a pocket and another raising to give them both a wave as if nothing was wrong.

back to the med bay :/
-- For Claire

Sometime after probably throwing up at some point and poorly playing basketball if playing it at all, Jason picked out his com and messaged for Claire to open up. Cause there he was, in a sweaty gross mess, head pressed against the cold door like it was about to save his life. Felt like his heart was going to explode but maybe that was exacerbated by the anxiety--an anxiety that just fucking existed and wasn't really... directed to anything which honestly was the worst kind.

And everything was just a lot. Too much, too bright, too loud. He was exhausted but at the same time wired and just-- "c'mon grandma, open the fuck up man."

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The more inmates, the busier the infirmary seems to be.

Claire opens the door and her eyebrows shoot up at the state Jason is in, but hey, the boy chose to blow her off.

"Hope the detour was worth it," she can't help but remark. "Come in. Sit down and I'll take care of you."

Oop, door is opening. Jason brings up a hand to brush back the sweaty locks; he looked up at Claire and let out an ever casual, "oh hey, what's up doc" in some very obvious show of campy suaveness.

And, completely ignoring the talk about his detour which totally wasn't worth it, the kid pushed himself in. It was, fucking hightech. Guess that made sense. They were in fucking space. He scuffled further in before flopping into a chair and pushing his face into his hands--slumped into that chair. "So, 'bout those painkillers."

"Straight to it, aren't you?"

She finds a towel, which she dampens, hand offers to him so he can clean himself up.

"I'd like to know a little more about what's troubling you, Jason."

James had said some things, of course, but Claire's curious about what Jason himself will offer up.

"Yeah, well. Yanno. Places to go. People to see." Yeah, he doesn't look like he's got a busy agenda. He looks like he's a fucking mess. He knows he looks like he's a fucking mess. He knows she knows he looks like a fucking mess. A trembling hand reached up to grab the cloth with a slow exhale and wipe it down his face.

"Already told you grams. Its just a bad headache." Mm, suspicious. He does try to give her a look but he's not all that intimidating at the moment by any damn stretch. "Thought it was goin' away. Obviously it wasn't."

Very suspicious. Claire's already got a packet of aspirin in her pocket for him, two pills individually portioned, but she brings him only a cup of water.

"What do you think brought it on?"

"People not minding their own business," he blurts out, hurdling over to hang his forearms over his knees and his head low. One knee started to bounce and an exhale left his body. Jason cradled his head with a hand and the other, still trembling, reached out palm up expectantly.

"It is my business, as the doctor on this ship. I'm here to help you. But I need to make sure that while I'm helping you, I'm not doing more harm."

It's not just a headache.

Fuck. He can't--if she's a doctor shouldn't she be able to tell> He doesn't even really want to admit it himself. It's not that bad. It's not that bad, it's totally not that bad. Just a headache and a bit of some other shit. It'll go away in a few days, it always does... well it did that one time. That one time wasn't this bad. Fucking details no one needs to know.

Eyes flick up to the door and then to her. "Come on, lady." It sounds a little more pleading than before but not too pleading. Got a reputation to uphold or whatever. "Just give me the advil and I can take care of the rest myself."

"You can, I'm sure, but I can help you. If this is a deeper issue than just a headache," she implores gently, knowing it is. James had said as much.

"If this is going to be an ongoing problem, you can tell me."

But she offers him the packet of aspirin on an open palm. Like many here, she knows she'll have to build trust before receiving it.

Jason thinks about it. His eyes roll up to look at the packet, then to her, then down to his knees. The knee that keeps on bopping up and down. Sweaty palms. Rapid thoughts. He's become just like them. How could he have become just fucking like them? Hand slapped against his forehead as fingers took the packet. He didn't even need water. Suck these back with saliva alone.

But he didn't, yet. His fingers spun the pack around like he was thinking of things. She's going to judge him, or worse. She'll mother him, be on him like a fucking leech. As if he can't handle himself. It wasn't even that he binged a bunch of anything. He just... but that to-- oh, and then it dawned on him. Oh, this was more than just the alcohol.

Fuck. He had become just like them.

Crystal blues flicked up again to the door. "Can you deactivate that," he nodded toward it.

"I can lock it," she tells him. "Will you talk to me if we have that privacy?"

Locking herself in any space with an inmate isn't really wise, but she's a woman known to make a gamble or two in her time.

He thinks for a moment. Will he tell her? Probably not everything. He can't, putting words to it just. But Jason nods yes anyway. Maybe just a little? He's trusted Leslie and look where that got him.

It's better than nothing. Claire gets up to lock the door, then turns around to return to her seat across from Jason.

"I only want to help. You're clearly not feeling great, and if I can do something for you, I will. Okay?"

"Yeah that's what everyone says," Jason snaps back, still looking at his fingers. Ruminating on how to go about it. Cause if he said it, it made it real and for a long time he could pretend it wasn't real but this? Was all pretty fucking real, and its not like. Not his first time. Thing had gotten bad though, hadn't they?

"Family used to be pretty heavy on the bottle," sure that's a good way to go about it. Jason nods to himself. "Guess I picked up the habit."

He barks, but then he confesses. Claire isn't terribly surprised to hear such a thing, given the state of him.

"It does tend to go that way," she says quietly. "I'm sure you saw what it did to them. It's not pretty."

Jason leaned back as the painkillers slowly took effect. Eyes looked her over in consideration before returning to the door again--now locked. Silence passed as his mind churned, thinking.

"Yeah, I did." A beat. "You've got experience with this?" Dealing with it, that was. There was... more, but. He knew it wasn't a common drug. Course it wasn't, he fucking made it. And he had no idea what the withdrawal was like. Of all the times to wish Bruce was around. Not like he'd live through the earful he'd hear, or worse.

She nods. She's seen what drink can do to a person, of course.

"Sometimes it's all someone has to cope with their lives, their thoughts," she says. "And I know it can be difficult to wean yourself off."

Headaches.

Yeah. Jason breathes out a long sigh before leaning forward on his knees. Still restless even when lethargic. "People you've known; patience?" A beat. "Any book can tell you that much."

"I grew up in the time after a world war. No one really... knew what to do, with the men that came back. Let alone themselves. Drink was an easy way to deal with the things they saw and did. And then, there was another world war, and it was the same thing all over again."

She gives him a little smile.

"I'm old. I've seen it different ways, in different people. I'm not here to judge you for it."

"You were a kid back in WWI?" Now that's some fucking shit. He's got a few other things he could comment on but it might start to be clear that Jason was, for lack of better words, interviewing Claire.

"Born in 1918. Served as a combat nurse in the second world war," she says with that small little smile of hers. Similar worlds, then. "I bet that's ancient history to you."

"Huh," he takes his time to find another point to discuss, but yeah... that's. She's seen some shit. "Don't look so bad for being 102, grams."

"Why, thank you," she says with a roll of her eyes, though the smile remains. "And how old are you?"

She's internally bracing herself. He looks young.

He snorts, still finding some amusement in the same old shit. Guess that's good. But since he's feeling a little more comfortable with her and also just in general, he'll crack something a bit more self-deprecating. "Biologically, emotionally, or mentally? Cause they're all pretty different."

"Sure. In that order." She's listening, eyebrows lifting. It's worth hearing, if he can actually name numbers.

Jason snorts, not having expected her to buy into his self-degrading sarcasm but here they were. Sure, he'll bite. "Nineteen, but therapists tell me I'm stuck somewhere at five and lately I've been feeling like I'm over 60."

Nineteen. Claire sucks in a breath--too many young inmates, here--and carries on.

"Over sixty isn't good. Maybe some time on the ship will have you feeling more your age. In time."

"Not good?" His lips pull down in a playful frown. "Bold coming from you." He amuses himself for a few moments before letting out a long sigh. "Can't unsee things; unexperience things. That's how it is."

"I'm under sixty, thank you very much," she says, more amused than offended. "And you're right. Some things can't be forgotten, but time and distance can make them easier to manage."

Some elderly wisdom.

Jason slowly climbs out of the chair after letting a few moments pass. A hand casually waving to the door. He's done. "Thanks for the drugs, grandma. You wanna let me out?"

Well, Jason looks like shit, enough to tell from a distance whether he tries to be nonchalant or not. Aki isn't prone to displays of emotion, but it's obvious from the way he approaches and the set of his mouth that he's displeased.

"You haven't been to the infirmary." It's blunt, layered over exasperation and concern.

Ellie crosses her arms over her chest, which conveniently hides her gnarled hands. "C'mon, man, you gotta go to the doctor."

Is it teasing disguised as concern, or concern disguised as teasing? Same thing, in the end.

Feet stop and eyes stare at the two. Ugh wtf, really? Jason tips his head back with a large groan. "Don't be so lame, I'm fine!"

Lurching his body forward again, fingers brush back a few locks of wild hair as the kid further approached them. "Just gotta sweat it out, no bigs. And like you're one to talk," he addresses Ellie (gross, don't be concerned for him), "You also look like shit."

"So anyway," eyes flick to Aki and they give the guy a short up and down, "open the door bossman."

Aki doesn't roll his eyes, but he feels the impulse. The look he levels at Jason is flat.

"No." Also flat. "I told you, you get cleared from the infirmary first and then I open the door."

"I'd feel bad winning," she says, looking him over. It's the truth, but her voice twists it into something a little further from concern, a little closer to mocking.

What is this bullshiiiiiit. At least Ellie is back to making fun of him, Jesus. Though he still shoots her a look. Then back to Aki, "look dude, pretty much the only thing they're gonna do is tell me to drink water and give me painkillers. If that's really what you want, fine. I'll go get a fucking advil and a cup of water. It looks worse than it is."

Ellie likewise gets a dead-eyed look from Aki that says, Do not.

"Good, then you can also take the time to look the way you feel." Spoken like a professional killjoy. "If you're in any shape to come back later and we're still here, I'll let you in."

"We won't tell anybody you took a fucking load off," Ellie says, making that promise for Hayakawa without asking first. Whatever. "That's what this is about, right?"

Everything Jason does just screams please think I'm tough.

It's because he is tough, Ellie!! And a mixture of other things. Mostly other things, this time. Things he isn't interested in really sharing with others, but this was kind of sobering (hah)--this reaction. Jason breathes in, pinches the bridge of his nose, and exhales.

"It ain't." He steps forward and spits out a, "but whatever," before turning down the hall. Fine. Fuck, he doesn't want to deal with this with some god damn white coat. "Fucking killjoys," comes out as he's already halfway down the hall.

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