tucky | ♻ 001 | video/spam

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♻ 001 | video/spam

[It's Christmas, Barge residents. And as it happens, one of your new arrivals is a Christmas angel.

Well, okay, she's just dressed up as one. Interestingly enough, it was Christmas on her world too, and she just got done performing in a Christmas pageant: she's wearing a white costume robe, and has a tinsel crown on her head. The front of her robe is bloody and dirty, and torn in a few places-- and given how beat-up and damaged her face looks, it's probably safe to assume that at least some of that blood is hers.

Currently she's wandering into to common area on level 6, a bit unsteady on her feet. She's also filming herself, because she found a fancy phone so why the hell not. Soon enough she stops walking and poses dramatically, arms held wide.]

Be not afraid-- for behold, I bring good tidings of... of, uh...

[And then she collapses. So yeah, that's a thing that's happening.]

[OOC: Permissions post for this character!]

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[She grunts.]

Doggett.

Doggett. Is that what you'd like me to call you?

[ Keeping her conscious, that's the goal. ]

[She laughs weakly-- which comes off sounding kind of slurred and weird-- but doesn't answer beyond that.]

Talk to me. Keep talking.

Can you see the numbers on the doors nearby?

I bring good tidings of great joy...

[She trails off again, but then seems to jolt back.]

Yeah, uh. There's, like, a twelve... and a fourteen.

What's the first digit?

[ What floor.

He's checked first and second by now. Good thing he's in shape; he takes the stairs fast towards the third. ]

Six.

Okay, hold on.

[She's attempting to get up. It's not going so well.]

Ow.

Do not move.

[ How truly and deeply he prefers counseling to emergency medicine.

He darts down the stairs, and emerges on the sixth floor perhaps thirty seconds later. He's wearing a Starfleet uniform, black with purple shoulders and a blue collar, and he pulls out a medical tricorder one-handed as he approaches her. ]

[Her bloody face has been mostly cleaned up, but her mouth is still a mess and she's going to be developing some nasty bruises eventually.

She's also wearing an ID tag pinned to her robe-- it identifies her as ""Doggett, Tiffany", an inmate of the federal prison system.]

Tiffany. That sounds a bit more human.

[ He'll nudge her back against the floor. He doesn't know of any prisons that use that as a uniform, but who is he to judge.

He runs the tricorder's sensor over her body, and discovers a whole lot of nothing major that, when combined, adds up to something major. A number of bruises that practically amounts to dangerous internal bleeding. Teeth broken. Contusions. ]

Where did this happen?

[ Already reaching into the medical kit for one of the regenerators. Her teeth will need surgical reconstruction, or magic, neither of which he is entirely equipped to do. ]

Out in the snow, under the eyes of God.

[She just kind of lets him do whatever, too out of it to protest (and not really inclined to protest anyway, if he can make the hurt go away). ]

Unfortunately, God is unavailable to tell me his side of the story.

[ He starts on the largest bruises, passing the laser slowly over the skin, over and over, as it stimulates healing. ]

So it'll just have to be you. Spit any tooth fragments out first. My name is Hugh Cambridge, and I'm the doctor here. You've found yourself in a prison called the Barge.

Oh, I know God's side. He told me.

[She turns her head and spits, then coughs. It's at that point that she notices the laser.]

... What're you doing?

I'm healing you. Stay still.

What did he say?

Luke 19:27.

[She's still watching the laser with interest, because she's never been patched up like this before.]

"But those enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them--bring them here and kill them in front of me." Bit grim, isn't it?

She was a devil; he wanted her dead. He wanted me to do it.

[NBD, just casually admitting to attempted murder.]

That's unfortunate for the both of you.

She deserved it; it don't matter what's bad for her.

[A pause.]

Hey, can you-- does that thing work on teeth?

Unfortunately, no. We'll have to get rather more creative for your teeth.

[ He moves to her face, to the bruises there. Bones will have to wait until he's in the Infirmary, and reconstruction of teeth is more difficult still, as the body doesn't really know how to regrow them. Unlike bones, which mend on their own.

His hands are steady, not particularly gentle but not causing any undue pain either. ]

[She perks up at that, because his words seem to indicate that they'll be doing something-- or at least trying to.]

Can you get me all new ones? You know, fakes. Ones that are real pretty and white?

I don't see why not.

Really?

[HELL YES best thing she's heard in a while. She is noticeably excited by his response, though she tries to hide it.]

You mean that? No jokes?

What prison system were you in?

Federal, in New York.