the sky's so clear and the sun's so bright. how can anything go wrong on a day like this?

[aviophobia]

Who: doctornota and YOU!
What: A week in the life of the good doctor.
Where: All around town: Hellsing, Main Street Park, the streets of Baedal, various bars.
When: All week.
Notes: Just tag in under the appropriate comment!
Warnings: Bones' mouth, probably.

See the threads for openings!

Comments

daytime | sobek croix (hellsing guild headquarters)

[truth_is_cold]

Rhade has heard about Dr. McCoy from Captain Kirk, and a doctor with starship experience has it's appeal. That's what eventually leads Rhade to Hellsing, and he requests the location of his office and heads back to it.

At least he has a very specific question that he can ask. His blunted boneblades are still very uncomfortable and agitating, and having been caught without them by the Candlelighters had been extremely compromising. Not to mention that it made him feel half of what he was.

He's in his High Guard uniform as he knocks on the door, posture ramrod straight and overly formal, and he waits with his hands clasped behind his back and his chin slightly raised.

[aviophobia]

McCoy glances up from a sheaf of paperwork, scanning over the new arrival. He was tall, possibly about McCoy's height, and muscular, wearing some kind of unfamiliar uniform. Soldier, definitely, judging by the posture. Not Starfleet, but similar military training.

"Can I help you?"

[truth_is_cold]

"Your commanding officer informed me that you have some experience in xenobiology." He raises a brow in a near Vulcan way, before glancing around the office.

"I don't know if there have been any local advancements in bone-growth, but I can safely presume you're in a better position to know than myself." He draws his gaze back to McCoy, just to keep from being too intrusive.

[aviophobia]

McCoy raises his own eyebrows, then gestures to the seat across from him, inviting the other man to have a seat. "If we were back on the Enterprise," he replies, "I could probably do something for you. Here, though? There isn't much in the way of bone generation. What are you looking for?"

[truth_is_cold]

He enters and sits, before holding up an arm to show three small protrusions sticking out of his sleeve on his forearm. "These will grow back, and were cropped out of necessity. However, time without them is proving uncomfortable.

"I'm looking into alternate ways to protect them as they healed, however I was hoping I could speed up the process." He folds his hands together, relaxing only slightly in the chair. His movements are usually borderline robotic.

"In the High Guard there would have been alternate methods to repair the issue but here I suppose I will have to wait it out."

[aviophobia]

McCoy leans forward to examine them with a critical eye, his brows furrowing slightly. They look like bone growths of a sort, and he wonders how long they would be when fully grown.

"Uncomfortable how?" he asks.

[truth_is_cold]

"They ache. They hurt a great deal when I first clipped them, but now they ache and my forearms are irritated." He tilts his head as he looks at his forearms. "I'm having customized protective guards for them made. So if you're unable to it won't be too much trouble. I'm mostly interested in what they have given you to deal with xenian emergency situations.

"I'm a human subspecies, but still unlike enough that some treatments could cause difficulties."

[aviophobia]

McCoy spreads his hands. "I have a dermal regenerator, a tricorder, a hypospray and some cartridges, and the basics out there. Luckily, this - " he picks up his tricorder (it's never far from him, not with how shit goes down in this city) - "would tell me enough about your body chemistry and what's wrong with you that I could probably make do with what I have."

[truth_is_cold]

He cocks his head doggishly at the tricorder. "Is that a scanner?" He's at least recognizably familiar with what it could be, but his technology is different enough that he has to make an educated guess.

"My people were originally genetically engineered. We heal fast, regulate our metabolism, we're stronger and more densely built. Like heavy-gravity worlders. We're immune to most diseases and adapt incredibly quickly, as well as to some poisons. But still have roughly the same number of genes and are capable of interbreeding with humans."

He's basically an Augment.

[aviophobia]

"It's a tricorder." He's impressed the other man managed to recognize it at all; not a lot of people can figure out twenty-third century tech. Holding it up, he continues, "D'you mind if I have a look at you, while you're here?"

[truth_is_cold]

"You may proceed," he says, scrutinizing the tricorder in his hand. He's never heard of that particular sort of scanning device. "Are you associated with the Home Guard of a particular world or an interstellar alliance of some sort?" He does recall Captain Kirk mentioning a familiarity with FTL travel.

[aviophobia]

McCoy gets up and goes around the desk, dress shoes clicking quietly against the floor of the office, and taps the button on the tricorder to bring it out of sleep mode. As he begins to scan Rhade, eyes flickering over the readouts, he replies,

"I'm with Starfleet. It's part of the United Federation of Planets; specifically, Earth's division of interstellar explorers."

[truth_is_cold]

"High Guard of the All Systems Commonwealth. Earth has a major role in government where you're from, or is only where you're based?" There's a tone to the way he says, Earth, as if he's talking about a bizarre, exotic place. Far away from the rest of the Known Worlds.

He's still, but there are recent injuries that have healed cleanly. Older ones too, as he's a High Guard officer and never shied from conflict. The newer wounds are attacks. Someone tried to stab him, and someone got him with something in the shoulder. But because they did heal cleanly, they could lump in there with that collection of old war scars.

His boneblades are growing back from having been clipped. They're a little inflamed, but that's the worst that's wrong.

"I was the chief tactical officer aboard the Andromeda Ascendant."

[aviophobia]

"Fairly major," McCoy replies, filing away the information as he continues scanning over the readouts from his tricorder. "What's the Andromeda Ascendant?" He reaches for his medkit, still slung around his waist, and opens the case, pulling out a hypospray cartridge. "Naproxen," he explains, popping the cartridge into the hypospray. "Anti-inflammatory."

[truth_is_cold]

"Glorious Heritage Class Warship. She has a warship's personality for an AI, too, but it made her an exemplary ship to serve aboard." He watches the hypospray. "By nanobots?" Which are what they use for treatments aboard Commonwealth ships. But he's never seen anything like the hypospray. They still use needles.

[aviophobia]

"Nope, not nanobots. Just naproxen." He checks that the cartridge is loaded properly into the hypospray, holding it up against the light, then holds it to Rhade's neck and fires it in. "Your ship has a personality?"

[truth_is_cold]

"All High Guard ships do... Do Starfleet vessels not?"

He flinches slightly at the noise of the hypospray, because he's never experienced that before, and then gives it a curious look in McCoy's hands.

[aviophobia]

"No, they don't. Well. Unless you listen to our chief engineer, but you shouldn't, because he's crazy." Noting Rhade's curious look, he holds out the hypospray. "Pressurized air. Damned handy."