| Back into the Wild |
| Summary: | Pallas is given a final examination by Glory for a full return to duty. |
| Date: | 6 Apr 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Slings and Gags |
| Players: |
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| CMO Office - Deck 10 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Post Holocaust Day: #39 |
| The CMO's office is, like many offices aboard the ship, of very military design. The space is utilitarian, to say the least, with bookshelves on the wall behind the single desk. In front of the desk are two chairs - as if the occupant would never need to have more than two other peole in the office at any given time. The shelves are lined with medical reference books, dotted here and there with a few framed photographs. Despite the rather sterile feel, overall, the room does have a few touches of warmth - a lab coat hanging from a hook near the door, a hearty variety of plant on top of a filing cabinet. It's the little things. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
Glory's door is open, as it has been for quite some time. She's behind her desk, white jacket hung up, uniform jacket unbuttoned slightly.
Good Obedient Pallas is wearing his sling, and records will show that he's been regularly attending all scheduled physiotherapy appointments. He's got not much else to do, having been on light duties for so long - so he's made himself known to be quite the nuisance in the Sickbay. This time, though, he's here for the head honcho. Coming to a halt at Glory's door, he knocks once. "Sir," he calls out to catch her attention. "You got a minute?"
Glory looks up, face drawn, tight, but she manages a smile. "Of course, Lieutenant. Come on in, Lieutenant. How're you feeling?"
"Good," Pallas answers succinctly, entering the office and helping himself to a seat. He sits right back in it, the elbow of his slung arm resting on the armrest, and regards the CMO for a moment. "So good, in fact, that I'm ready to throw out the sling and go back to work." This is given casually, as though it should be taken as a given. "But I figure that Toast and everyone else will just figure that I made some nurse's life miserable enough to get them to sign off on it if the return-to-work came from them, so I thought I'd come bother you directly."
Glory's lips quirk at one corner and she chuckles quietly, nodding. "I see. So you figured you'd come right to the source, then? I'm not quite sure how I feel about that, Lieutenant. Of course, to be fair, I expected to see you."
"Jumping the chain of command," Pallas acknowledges with a broad smile, as though he's proud of the fact that he's violating protocol. "I'm sure you've heard all sorts of pleasantries about me from your staff, anyway. I've been a perfect patient all around." He doesn't even have to say it sarcastically, it's such an absurd idea. "I can't say it's been good in my experience when a superior officer - especially one in a different department - expects to see me, but…" Shifting in the seat, he leans forward a bit. "I suppose since this isn't an examining room, I'll keep my pants on until ordered otherwise."
"You'll keep them on unless you expect me to be taking your temperature and putting a few more holes there," the lady replies with all the delicacy of a Victorian matron. "Let's just say that I had a very strong feeling that you'd be darkening my door step. I expected, honestly, to see you three days ago. You're four days out from your re-evaluation, but I'll admit to being impressed by your…dedication." She leans forward, hands folded, elbows leaning on her desk.
"Darkening your doorstep?" Pallas asks, raising an eyebrow. "My good Captain, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you weren't eagerly anticipating the beatific sunshine of my presence." If he's chastened or impressed by her quick rebuttal to his pants comment, he doesn't show it. "I was reasonably sure that had I come three days ago, you would've rejected my request out of hand. Not to mention that I'm pretty sure that tall redhead nurse was working the front desk that day, and I thought it best to avoid her - for a few days, at least."
"Mmmm," Glory murmurs quietly, simply considering him. "I was wondering what was wrong with my staff. Care to tell me what, exactly, it was you did to her before I call her in here?" There's just a -little- twinkle in her eyes at that.
The twinkle is mirrored in Pallas' eyes - though if hers is a mischievous or bemused one, his is one of eager antagonization. "Captain, if there were words for what I did to that nurse, I wouldn't say 'em out loud in front of my mother." He seems satisfied with that answer. "And my mother's a whore," he notes as an afterthought. He appears to be quite literally serious. "Was, I guess, is the proper tense."
A brow arches ever so delicately at that, her head tilting slightly to the side. "It's a good thing your mother isn't here then, Lieutenant, isn't it," she asks, bemused. "And even better that I'm not your Mommy. Given the way she was growling, my nurse would like to take you apart with her bare hands. Do I need to look the other way?" She's kidding, right? "Or do I need to let her take care of your PT for the next four days?"
"Such cruel and unusual punishment," Pallas says dryly. Could he be backing off because he's actually scared that Glory might give that nurse free reign over him for a while? "Can't violate your Hippocratic Oath, now, can you, Captain?" Leaning back again, he drums his fingers against the armrest. "In any case, let me throw away the sling and your nurses and therapists will be free of my 'darkening' presence here - at least for the time being."
Glory rolls to her feet and comes around the desk. "I'll be the judge of that," she murmurs, reaching for the sling. As always, though, her hand pauses before making contact. "May I? And it wouldn't be a violation of the Hippocratic Oath. I'm not the one doing harm, after all."
"You'll be the judge, jury, and executioner of that," Pallas mutters under his breath. Of course, she's right in front of him now so she can hear everything he's saying. "How could I say no to those blue eyes?" he retorts, mock-swooning. "Touch me. Hold me. Examine the full range of motion on my shoulder. It's so romantic." He shrugs his arm out of the sling and offers it to the CMO.
Glory can't help but laugh at that and just shakes her head. "Remind me to piss you off more often," she quips, reaching for the arm. She's careful, professional - just like she was before. "Having any pain? Any issues with the arm?"
"Only when I'm around certain pilots," Pallas answers. "But the pain is in my head, not in my shoulder, so I don't think that's relevant." The shoulder moves all right, and he doesn't wince or show any signs of pain, just impatience. "Arm's fine. Shoulder's fine. Sling's a pain in the ass, though." Annoying and persistent, this one.
"So are you," Glory replies, tone dry as she works. "Your point? Ok, I'm going to lift it up over your head. I want to know if it hurts or even twinges. Not getting along with members of the wing?" That last is more curiously asked than anything else.
Pallas smirks. "I know it's hard to believe, Captain, but I don't get along so nicely with everyone like I do with you." He says nothing as the arm is raised, and his face shows no sign of pain or discomfort. "And my point is, if I'm a pain in the ass, get rid of me. Best way to do that is by letting me get rid of my sling. It's a win-win situation for all parties involved." The shoulder really does seem like it's back to normal - or at least, not hurting anymore. He has been coming to physio and doing his proper workouts as prescribed - even though he's getting on in years for a pilot, he's making a good recovery.
Glory's quiet for a moment as she works, manipulating the shoulder backward and forward. "The best way to get rid of you is a defenestration misshap with an open airlock," she comments after a moment. "Not putting you in a million plus cubit piece of machinery, one of the very few left in the universe, and letting you play pinball with other pilots, putting -their- lives at risk." Then there's a quiet humph. "And what's so special about me that I get the extra treatment, hmmm?"
Pallas lets Glory play with his arm like it's a lever. "I'm sure the CAG dreams of tossing me out an airlock every damn night," he snorts. "And I'm sure she's not the only one, either. That's fine." It really is fine, or at least, he doesn't sound like he minds if others dream of his death every night. When she asks why she gets the 'special treatment', his eyes narrow at her for a moment, but he says nothing. "So is the arm good to go or what, Doc? I'd love nothing more than to scare the CAG shitless by climbing into a cockpit again."
"Chicken," she murmurs softly, finally releasing him. "Well, I have good news and bad news, Lieutenant," Glory says, moving back around behind her desk again. "Which would you like first?"
"Give me the good news first," Pallas answers. It comes quickly, so he must always ask for the good news first.
"You can toss the sling," Glory replies, leaning back in her seat, folding her arms over her chest.
"Thank the frakkin' Gods," Pallas sighs, unraveling the thing and tossing it away. Of course, it lands right on Glory's floor, since it doesn't fly very far. "What's the bad news, I gotta put another one on?" He peers at the CMO, waiting to see what bit of devilry she's about to reveal.
"I'm releasing you back into the wild. Of course, that's bad news for the -rest- of the ship, good news for my staff," she replies. Though, at this point, she seems pleased to be able to give him -good- news.
"Then, Gods willing, you'll never have to see me in the Sickbay aside from my visits." Of course, Pallas is referring to his daily visits to young and comatose Ensign Abilon, his former wingman. He stands up from his seat, making a show of stretching out now that he's officially released from the sling. "It's been an absolute pleasure terrorizing your staff."
Glory's mouth quirks at one corner and she dips her head, once. "Of course, I also reserve the right to chase you out, should you terrorize my staff too much. Or, even worse, I might put you back in that sling."
That's only answered with a snort as Pallas leaves Glory's office, leaving that carelessly cast-off sling on the floor for her to deal with. It's not his problem anymore. Now he's everyone else's problem. Namely, the CAG's. Gods save them all.