This post is William's IC inbox at ataraxion. You can drop network or action stuff that doesn't quite feel like it fits or warrants a post on the main communities in here.
[Pale and shiny, the scanning device balances in William's hand. It's already shining a light up his arm, activated, but it isn't properly pointed at her just yet. He finds what she's saying of more than a little interest.] Did you? [he asks.]
I'm sure he'dve taken you up on it if the Tranquility hadn't abruptly evacuated him up its arse, eh. [A ghost of a smile, old affection for the previous medbay head, who'd gone away. William looks down at the device, then up again.] Do you mean a first aid training?
[ It's a novel concept to her, really. The death of Cylon bodies is more frequently accepted than their upkeep. She's head to learn, so why shouldn't they? They, who have always been trapped in their forms. ]
Along with familiarity with what equipment and provisions they can access. But I don't know. Perhaps it's all a little hopeless when people can just vanish, any day.
[ Like Peter himself. Like she could, like William could. But she doesn't seem to believe in hopelessness, this statement more like a question, directed to him. ]
I don't know about hope. Or inter-Jump disappearances, for that matter, [William answers, at length. Closet pessimist maybe. He looks like it sometimes, his friendly, kicked-runt aspect, works too many hours, probably overcompensating for something.] But I'm a hundred and twenty percent certain somebody's going to get shot or fucking stabbed or bit around here eventually, so the training's definitely a good idea. If you could lie still a moment, but just keep talking and breathing like normal--
[He lifts up the scanner in his hands. Focuses it on her long-limbed body, but otherwise does nothing else medically or scientifically impressive. Instead, he talks on.] What was you thinking?
[ Natasi does as instructed; she settles back, and it doesn't take too much effort not to worry further about what William may or may not find. In her experience, he won't find anything. ]
The illusion of cooperation. We could get the heads of other departments to send their people our way. Regimented rolling out of training instead of a free for all.
You'd have to talk our colleagues into it. Get an idea of their skillsets. Patience. Maybe we'll all need to brush up first on basic first aid.
...technically she has one of those right, like a roboheart. and robo-brainwaves, which will come up later.]
That's probably a good idea anyway, [William agrees.] Although that leaves people who ain't in any kind of department untrained, and that don't seem wise either. You'll find a way to schedule them in too, yeah? [he asks with no real expectation she'll say no. Starting with the departments is relevant enough.]
For all intents and purposes, her heart beats at a healthy regulation, and her brain sends correct signals. She is sublimely healthy, in a somewhat suspiciously median kind of way, her data cresting the bell jar. She is, perhaps, a little warmer than what is considered normal. ]
Yes, [ she answers, simply. ] If they're not going to contribute anything to our little village, the least they could do is learn to look after themselves.
[ That doesn't come across as overly caustic or anything, frank and light in delivery. Her opinion is plain, but it's not one of viciousness. Condescension, faintly. ]
[William is very oblivious in many ways, but he can sense condescension when it's put as such. He was like that once. Not knowing the how of things taught in books, with special skills, the kind of training that takes time and money. Or a commitment to a spacefaring military institution that trafficks with demons.
He smiles at her a little.] Yeah, [he agrees.] 'Little village.' That's funny.
--We could have exams at the end, [he says suddenly, brightening.] I mean, even if it ain't graded. A field test of knowledge, with a scenario, not really dangerous but with some indicators. With an injured dummy or some kind of actor. Make sure people was paying some fucking attention and learned what they was taught.
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no subject
I'm sure he'dve taken you up on it if the Tranquility hadn't abruptly evacuated him up its arse, eh. [A ghost of a smile, old affection for the previous medbay head, who'd gone away. William looks down at the device, then up again.] Do you mean a first aid training?
no subject
[ It's a novel concept to her, really. The death of Cylon bodies is more frequently accepted than their upkeep. She's head to learn, so why shouldn't they? They, who have always been trapped in their forms. ]
Along with familiarity with what equipment and provisions they can access. But I don't know. Perhaps it's all a little hopeless when people can just vanish, any day.
[ Like Peter himself. Like she could, like William could. But she doesn't seem to believe in hopelessness, this statement more like a question, directed to him. ]
no subject
[He lifts up the scanner in his hands. Focuses it on her long-limbed body, but otherwise does nothing else medically or scientifically impressive. Instead, he talks on.] What was you thinking?
no subject
The illusion of cooperation. We could get the heads of other departments to send their people our way. Regimented rolling out of training instead of a free for all.
You'd have to talk our colleagues into it. Get an idea of their skillsets. Patience. Maybe we'll all need to brush up first on basic first aid.
no subject
he had better find a heartbeat.
...technically she has one of those right, like a roboheart. and robo-brainwaves, which will come up later.]
That's probably a good idea anyway, [William agrees.] Although that leaves people who ain't in any kind of department untrained, and that don't seem wise either. You'll find a way to schedule them in too, yeah? [he asks with no real expectation she'll say no. Starting with the departments is relevant enough.]
no subject
out of the ordinary, calm down.
For all intents and purposes, her heart beats at a healthy regulation, and her brain sends correct signals. She is sublimely healthy, in a somewhat suspiciously median kind of way, her data cresting the bell jar. She is, perhaps, a little warmer than what is considered normal. ]
Yes, [ she answers, simply. ] If they're not going to contribute anything to our little village, the least they could do is learn to look after themselves.
[ That doesn't come across as overly caustic or anything, frank and light in delivery. Her opinion is plain, but it's not one of viciousness. Condescension, faintly. ]
no subject
He smiles at her a little.] Yeah, [he agrees.] 'Little village.' That's funny.
--We could have exams at the end, [he says suddenly, brightening.] I mean, even if it ain't graded. A field test of knowledge, with a scenario, not really dangerous but with some indicators. With an injured dummy or some kind of actor. Make sure people was paying some fucking attention and learned what they was taught.