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#5

Passengers: Claire and Travis
Location: The Infirmary
Date: Feb 22nd
Summary: Travis has some entirely unfounded concerns about brain damage that only a medical professional slash witch can confirm.
Warnings: No idea.

Travis has some... concerns.

The potential for brain damage had not occurred to him until Volk had mentioned it, and true to form, he does not want to give it much consideration now. But it bugs him. He hasn't spent thousands of hours sculpting his body into a near-perfect fighting machine just to lose his edge because some warden with a stun gun knocked him out. That'd be totally fucking bullshit, right? Better safe than sorry. He'd better check. While he's at it, he can test to see if Claire's true to her word and will actually be a fair and compassionate doctor. Two birds with one stone.

(And if she isn't, he'll just kill her. He bets she'd put up a good fight. The infirmary probably has a lot of cool machinery and tools she could use to make it interesting. He's never fought a doctor before.)

(He also hasn't been in the infirmary yet.)

Travis tries to open the infirmary door, but it doesn't budge. Ah, yes. He's a lowly inmate. So Travis cups his hands around the sides of his eyes, glasses and all, and presses his face against the frosted glass door to see if he can see in. He can't, but at least Claire will see his shadow there.

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Travis barely pulls back when the door starts moving, leaving him standing there with his hands up for an instant as he comes into full (glorious, by the way) view. He drops his hands. Look, he's innocent. They're empty.

"Hey," he says. His black hoodie declares FUCK RACISM in big red letters. "Does getting shot point-blank with a stun gun cause brain damage?

There is so much to take in, here. Don't know if I'd be able to tell, with you, is what she wants to say. Maybe don't be in the position to get zapped with a stun gun to begin with. But, alas, they did just talk about whether she'd help him or not despite her dislike of him.

"It shouldn't cause permanent damage," she replies. "Are you feeling unwell?"

"Just the usual bumps and bruises," Travis replies. You know, the kinds of things you get when you throw down with two wardens, get slammed into the wall by a third, and then use your cell as a personal gym for a week. "I just wanna be sure. You ever hear about those people who are going about their lives, and then they suddenly drop dead of a brain lesion or something they didn't know they had? Or guys who get concussions and then fall asleep and won't wake up again?"

He is completely sincere about this thought, his eyes fixed on hers.

"If only those were avoidable," Claire sighs, unable to help herself. But she does step back so that he can step inside. "I'd be more worried about your heart than your brain when it comes to electric currents, actually. But if you'd like some peace of mind, I can give you a look over. Have a seat."

Don't mind her pulling out her CommLink to shoot a quick text. She's gotten good at it. Back into her pocket it goes.

He notes the text, and he glances sidelong at the screen while she types, but he makes no particular effort to see who or what she's saying. He can guess.

"Sure, that'd be great." he replies, and as he moves in, his gaze roves around the room instead. He takes his sweet time turning a circle around the room just to gawk before bothering to sit. "Slick set-up you got here. Do all the wardens get their own area of expertise, or are you special?"

He's unpredictable and they're not on good terms. She's not looking to end up dead so soon.

"Infirmaries and clinics are commonplace. I'm lucky to have found one so advanced, is all," she says. No comment about his area of expertise being solitary, though she very badly wants to make that remark. "So, you've had no dizziness, shortness of breath, tightness in your chest...?"

"None of that," he replies. He settles right in, manspreading comfortably. "I have this massive bruise on my ass, but it's in that stage where it's mostly yellow. You need to see it?"

"I think I know what a yellowing bruise looks like, thank you."

Claire rolls her eyes and grabs the stethoscope off the counter. Imagine her joy when she discovered this simple device was still considered useful even in a very advanced infirmary in space.

It's still cold, though. She doesn't bother warming the metal as she steps closer.

"May I?"

"Yeah, sure," Travis replies, and he yanks off his hoodie; his t-shirt rides up halfway up his ribs as he does so, and his aviators are askew when he gets his head out, but he rights himself with a few tugs. His t-shirt has a picture of a cluster of scantily-clad anime girls on it. There, he's ready for stethoscope-ing. "You been real busy in here?"

She takes a moment to look at his shirt with a frown before sticking her hand down the collar of his shirt, listening for his heartbeat.

"Only the occasional head wound and bloodied nose," she says, giving him a pointed look. She sees Silco and Volk regularly, but Travis gave her the first patient that was actively bleeding.

He sits still, like a good boy. And a curious one, too:

"Where'd the head wound come from?"

"I don't discuss what goes on in here with others." As much as everyone seems to worry about their business being shared across wardens, Claire takes her role as doctor very seriously.

She's quiet for a few moments, listening.

"Heart sounds healthy as a horse. But I don't recommend getting shot in any manner again. For your health, of course."

"It'd better be," he replies, veering towards joking, but there's a serious vein there: he's worked too hard to punk out from something like that. "I've got no plans to get shot, doc. You believe in using them?"

He gives an exaggerated little glance at her waist, where she's quite obviously not packing any heat.

The question makes her a little uneasy, and she steps away to put the stethoscope down.

"I try to avoid violence when I can," she says, crossing her arms to regard him with a lift of her brow. She doubts he feels the same. "Even if it's just a stun gun."

"I'm not a fan either," he replies. Violence is fine, but: "It's kind of cheap, you know? Anyone can aim and fire. Maybe not well, but it doesn't take skill the same way a sword does. Or surgery."

"I don't know if that was supposed to be you trying to flatter me or not," she says, eyes narrowed. "Killing people isn't a skill to boast about, whether it be a gun or sword."

"Who said anything about killing?" he replies, with an impulsive roll of his eyes, but his posture is easy, even relaxed. "You guys think about killing more than I do. Listen. The way of the sword is an art. You don't think of what you do as art?"

"I cut to heal. You cut to harm," she points out without hesitation. "And you're an assassin. Of course I'm going to think about the fact that you killed for a living when you're in front of me."

"I'm retired," he says.

So fuck you, he thinks, but it strikes him as bullshit to claim he has layers or some unappreciated other side. How many years has he been retired, anyway? Five? There are kids in kindergarten in Santa Destroy who have known a world where he wasn't working. Killing still consumes him. Tumbles out of his mouth like nothing.

He can't even be mad about that.

"You've got the moral high ground," he says. He's not sure if it's much of an assurance, so he adds, flippant: "Unclench for a minute."

Retired, but still here. Claire doesn't feel the need to say it because she doesn't want to have to crawl into the Auto Doc, but it's clear on her face.

"Unclench, and...?" Go on, Travis. She's listening.

And what?

"... Relax?" he tries. "Do you do anything for fun? Watch movies, play video games?"

Mario wasn't even a thing in her time.

"Of course I do things for fun. I watch movies. I garden."

All very exciting things, you see. Not that she's really been much about hobbies since she came to space.

“Yeah? What’s your favourite movie?”

"It changes depending on my mood. I was very into My Fair Lady. And before that, Sabrina. I think I just really like Audrey Hepburn." Go figure. If that even means anything to him, different worlds and all. "I don't think we're going to bond over that."

“I’ve never seen anything with her in it, but she’s a classic,” he replies. Bonding never felt like the point, so he glosses right over that. “Ten years ago, I used to have this game you would have liked. It was a surgery game. The assistant character is this cute girl with big eyes — Audrey could’ve played her in a movie adaptation or something.”

"Like Operation?" But why is he talking about characters, as if it were a book? Was there a whole backstory to that poor fool getting all his plastic bits removed?

“No, Trauma Center: Under the Knife. You’re thinking of a board game, this is a real game. You play as a surgeon eradicating the Gangliated Utrophin Immuno Latency Toxin from victims’ bodies.”

"Real game?" She's getting lost, here. "How do you play as a surgeon?" How do you do that if it's not Operation? Is he fucking with her?

“Like a video game,” he clarifies. “Your character is a surgeon. Like a simulator.”

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#5

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ok ms married-a-highlander!!!

we just appreciate a cute show of leg... maybe knee 🥰

jaime all sweaty storming the battlefield w/ his shirt open but with a lollipop instead of a sword

magical outlander anime (not inuyasha)

no it's def scottish inuyasha

one day travis will know the truth and love claire because she is kagome irl

He makes a joke about her getting new shoes and Claire doesn’t get it at all

heartbreak </3

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