Territorial Invasion

Ista Weyr - Infirmary

Equipped with the latest healing technologies, this spotlessly clean, large room smells slightly of antiseptic and numbweed. At one end, cots sit for the recovering to recover on. At the other end, are the proceedure tables. Cabinets with supplies and medical files sit along one wall. At any given moment, there could be any number of people in here. A weyrchild with a broken arm, a mother recovering from giving birth or even one of the residents recovering from heat stroke or sun poisoning, a rider and dragon recovering from a strained wing muscle.

It's lunchtime again and today it's stew and soup. Shorynia's and Chaton's are set together on the same bedside stand with a smile from the apprentice girl making the deliveries. Shory nods to the girl, continuing to work on the latest batch of paperwork. Today it seems to pertain to Valkin's feeding schedule specifically as separate from that of the other renegade captives. The interrim Journeyman glowers down at her now and again from the main desk. She had been cleared for release, she simply refused to go.

Chaton glares back at the Journeyman also. The whole, someone else is in my territory, testosterone-alpha maleness thing. He snorts and drapes an arm across Shory (that's right Jman. She's taken, bugger off.) and smiles. "Bread and water all the way?" he comments teasingly on Valkin's diet.

Shorynia chuckles, passing Chaton the mug of klah portion of his lunch, "He's just a kid, he'll get at least a bubbly every couple of days." She takes a sip of her own klah, "Somehow I managed to get myself put in charge of his care, so if ever you wake up and I'm not here, I'm probably talking to him." She glances at the look on his face, then up at the journeyman (who I really should give a name >.>), then chuckles again, "You worry too much, love… he's a bit old for my tastes."

Chaton snorts and shrugs, taking the cup and drinking from it. "I dont care. I dont like him." and yes, it's said loud enough to be heard. Hey, the apprintices are on Chatty's side. *Mine*. He nods, and sits the soupbowl down. "You know, I would probably worry less if this sharding cast wouldn't itch, and if people would stop moving my bag off of the bed when I go to sleep, and if I could, oh I dunno, Get my infimrary back so I can do my job?"

Shorynia ruffles Chaton's hair gently, "Your bag is right next to the head of your bed. I moved it so you didn't jab yourself in your sleep… you were trying to use it as a pillow…" She sighs softly, "You'll get it back in due time, for now just enjoy the wait with me and let yourself heal. I know you want to work, but you can only do so much with two damaged arms, love." She strokes his hair gently, "I'm not going anywhere until you're healed up." The journeyman gives a disgruntled noise, flipping through a patient file or another.

Chaton mutters something about 'if that journeyman alphabetizes my patient files' and 'disorganizing everything' but relents and lays back. "I know." he frowns. "But, look! He's getting his butt-germs all over my chair!" THat's a good reason to want him gone,right?

Shorynia ruffles his hair again, "Then you'll just have to un-alphabetize them when he leaves." Shory can't help but burst into laughter at the butt-germs, "If it's that big a deal we can get you a new chair when he returns to the hall." She glances up to see the journeyman glaring at them and gives him a jaunty wave.

Chaton hrmphs. "Cover it in redwort and then burn it." his clinical recomendation. "It's the principal of the thing. Like if I were to go and mix your sock drawer and your underwear drawer together…" he pauses, "and then sit on it."

Shorynia giggles, "You do worry too much, love… besides, didn't you do that to my underwear last week?"

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