gabriel_tam | (no subject)

(no subject)

The room is fairly nice, all things considered. There are several chairs, a porta-cot set up discreetly against one wall for visitors that for one reason or another are reluctant to leave, and it's clear that whoever designed this particular private room in the first place intended to make it seem as warm and welcoming as possible.

Of course, given that it's a hospital, there's really only so much that can be done.

Currently, the hospital bed is tilted upwards at an angle, with the evident intention of making the patient comfortable. It seems to be working, at least a little, because Gabriel Tam is asleep.

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He nods. "There was something in the wounds -- it's taken care of. There's no residue."

"It's all right," Gabriel interjects. "It's all right."

It may well be meant for both of them. He continues,

"And so am I. Or I will be, and that's close enough to the same thing to stand for it."

Her shoulders stiffen a little at the sound, but --

When Kaylee turns around, cup of water in hand, she's smiling. Quiet: "Got a ways to go before you get up to standard quality of cussin' out portside -- 'cause it's not like it changes much, from place to place -- but that's a pretty good effort."

She's standing by the side of his bed. "This ought to help some, I'm thinkin'?"

Mary shoots a glance at Galadan.

And mutters, "I will harangue him then, too."

But she sounds, looks, a little reassured - if only because they both seem confident that it's a 'when' and a 'will be', and she believes them when they say things like that. Both of them.

He startles, visibly, but then relaxes and smiles ruefully up at her.

"Kaylee. Hello. It's good to see you."

A beat.

"You're right, I think. Xiexie ni."

Galadan's mouth quirks in what might be the second cousin to a smile.

"I hope you do not object should I choose to join you in that."

There's something wistful in her face as she watches the looks passing between them; as she notes the points of resemblance and echoes of motion.

"It's all healing very cleanly," she repeats. "And in my world, at least," she adds, aiming for a light tone, "a few scars are considered very distinguished, for a man of a certain age."

There's something deliberately theatrical about the way that Gabriel brings his arm up to cover his eyes as he mutters,

"I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?"

"Not at all," Mary says, graciously, to Galadan. "You may help. I expect you will be good at it -" and then, self-righteously, to Gabriel, "You were nearly killed! I expect that of some people but you are meant to be responsible!"

Admittedly, 'some people' would probably get just as much of a tongue-lashing, but that's besides the point; the point is that this is not a habit that he is allowed to get into. At all.

"Considering, then, that I have age, distinguished status of a sort, and now quite a few scars as well, I should regard myself as quite lucky."

Gabriel's tone is dryly amused.

There's a darkness in his eyes that says differently, but he sounds sincere enough, at least.

Yuna does not look at Simon now; neither does she look around for his (Guardian) bodyguard, although she's aware of the absence, assuredly.

"I could offer you healing," she says, speaking calmly and without the hesitancy that sometimes marks her language. "But I understand it might be be difficult to explain. But still, it's your choice."

And not anyone else's, now that he's awake enough to make it.

"My pleasure. You need help, or -- you okay with it?"

Being all business about this -- being matter-of fact, he's bad off, everybody's on edge, might as well acknowledge it -- it'll help. It usually does.

"We'll all be much warier in the future, Mary. You can rest assured of that."

Galadan means this wholeheartedly.

He has quite a few tapes that he intends to give to Mr U to go over, in the meantime.

The creature's scent was far too wide-ranging to belong to a corpse.

And, of course, there is that flickering light to consider, as well.

Galadan will not forget it.

"I'm sure I can manage," he says, automatically-- and then seems to hear himself.

Gabriel sighs, very slightly, and adds,

"But I wouldn't turn down an offer of assistance."

Simon does glance around for Galadan. He's not there.

He steps back and closes the door to the room, carefully.

(Any hospital staff passing by, or coming in about their duties, don't need to hear this.)

"You may rest assured -- both of you, for that matter -- that I will pay much closer attention to your recommendations on matters of security."

He lowers his arm from his eyes, wincing slightly as the movement strains his broken ribs and torn chest. Despite that, he extends a hand to Mary.

"I'm sorry that I worried you."

"...I'm not sure I understand," he says carefully.

She laughs a little. "Consider it made, and now we got that out of the way -- "

The cup goes on the bedside table again when he's done; she picks up her book and reclaims her seat. "And I'm guessin' you're sick of people askin' you how you're feelin' by this point." Wry.

"You'd have the experience to know," he says, just as wryly.

"But -- it's not as bad as it was, at any rate." A pause. "How are you?"

Mary takes the hand, after a moment, and grips it - almost painfully tight at first, then, abruptly remembering his injured state, reluctantly loosening her grip in case it hurts.

"If it had been worse," she repeats, her eyes scrunching shut for a moment before they open again, "I should not have forgiven you."

"Then likely it's better for us all should you never have to prove that statement."

Galadan's voice is very, very dry.

Simon's tone is very nearly as careful. "Yuna has ... certain resources available to her that our medical science doesn't. I had intended to take full advantage of thosat possibility when we first brought you in, but --"

His speech slows, and his enunciation grows a trifle more precise: "Galadan thought it would lead to trouble later if, if you were seen to be injured and then shortly thereafter seen with no traces of the injury."

"I've had to do the same thing myself," she adds. "I've come into the bar injured, and if I returned healed without time passing, my Guardians would notice."

She touches her staff, not yet picking it up. "I'm a healer," she says. "In my world we call it white magic, tofortify and heal the body and spirit, and ward them from evil influence."

"Good to hear." With a crooked smile. "And I'm doin' all right. -- oh, hey." Kaylee eyes him a little. "Should you be talkin'?"

Gabriel gives Galadan another look, then returns his attention to Mary.

He shifts just enough to bring his other hand up as well, covering their linked ones with it in a gesture of reassurance.

"But it wasn't worse. And I'm getting better. Besides, now that both my heads of security are aware of ... certain complications... I don't anticipate any other problems."

A beat, and then more gently,

"It really is all right, Mary."

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