[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Impact Damage [Avalanche,Patch]

[Patch]

This was the best part.

There was a lot of slag to go through in medicine- literally. Especially in trauma care. Things got messy, emotionally, physically. You had to hurt people sometimes. Tell them no. Remind immortal mecha of their own limitations, often in the absolute worst of ways. Informing them their fame had betrayed them, and would never be the same.

But when someone like this, who’d been through this much, who’d been fighting, and hurting, and going on anyway as long as Avalanche surely had, given her rank, and her scars, and her stories...

When you could hear them laugh? At their own ability. To install or return that pride every person deserved to carry with them, around what their body could do.

It may have been cliche, but… Such simple sentiments as ‘it’s better’ or ‘thank you’...
They helped. Slag, they made nearly every speck of that awful damn worth it.

As the commander laughed -a warm, comfortable sound- the young medic simply could not help but smile. A smaller, quirky sort of in-spite-of-herself expression as she continued to lean against the terminal, arms folded, watching the well practiced forms of the warrior.

“You’re welcome.”

Softer words with a nod, as her optics lowered. A wide, quiet grin upon her lips. Similarly simple, though the younger’s words mirrored the depth of Avalanche’s as well. Patch was proud of herself, she was, there was no use hiding that. No use in tryin’ to take it away she figured. She did do good. She helped someone- someone important, and it felt nice.

It was good to feel nice.

At this, she rocked up off the terminal, arms finally unfolding to angle soft palms towards the officer. A continued respectful casualness to the almost joking show of ‘don’t shoot me’.

“Now, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of important places to be; but-”

Her right palm shifted to loosely point, palm up towards the other femme.

“If you can spare the time I got a feeling I could loosen up those servos a little bit too.”

An offer. A saleswoman peddling something more than an order from any medical authority. New command post meant paperwork, after all- that meant typing, or writing and either way, Patch was certain things would be a lot more efficient and pleasant with less discomfort at the servos. There was, however, not much pressure placed upon the offer.

[Avalanche]

Avalanche could feel Patch's quietly joyful satisfaction in her field, a mirror and counterpart to her own surprised delight. Perhaps it was just that the medics she'd known were mouthy afts, but Frosty or Hypo would have told her to be more damn careful in future, to not cause so much trouble. It was almost an allergic reaction to sincere happiness; they'd have told her off, she'd have smiled and told them she could promise nothing, and as she left, then she'd have felt them smiling behind her.

Patch wasn't like that. Gentle, sincere, and unafraid to show her own happiness. It was different, and it was very welcome.

The big femme turned towards her as Patch approached, breaking into a grin at the hands-held-up pre-emptively pose. Planting her own hands on her waist, she cocked her helm, a small jerk of her chin signalling, let's hear it.

...an offer to keep going. To keep making her battered chassis work better. Even before Avalanche said a word, her field had already sung out her answer, in a flare of hopeful anticipation that was quickly tamped down.

"I've been informed that the base security officer, Red Alert, will come to give me an initial briefing. Until he arrives, I'm all yours."

Sitting back down on the medical bed, careful not to disturb the numbing system still plugged into her right elbow port, Avalanche extended both hands, palms downward. They were huge, armour-plated things, large even for a mecha of her scale, scarred with uncountable impacts. With an inward flex as natural as bending a finger, Avalanche's spiked knuckle dusters swung down into position, then tilted back again. Then, slowly, she turned her hands palm upwards.

"What first?"

[Patch]

As Avalanche extended her hands, Patch leaned over them slightly. Quietly, she observed the mechanisms as they were demonstrated. She lifted her own hands beneath Ava’s to support them a bit, and guide them around in the light so she could see.

“Mm. I was thinking a simple cleaning, to start. See where the problem areas are, if any. Then I’ll troubleshoot as things come up.”

Now THIS, was something Patch was confident in. Sure, she was basically built for first-aid, and she’d done her fair share of last ditch fixes- but in the hospital? What she’d really done was maintenance and nursing that the more experienced medics would be better off without. Cleaning tools, administering medicine and babysitting had been a lot of it- though polishing rust out of wounds, Pushing joints back to position. Recovery, physical therapy- she’d spent years honing such skills.

The young medic set off and began to collect some simple implements- sharp hooks, and scrapers, clinking like silverware against the metal tray. She took up a rotary tool as well, with a few quite thin bits, to get between nooks and crannies. A few other things; a cloth, some oil, etc.

A bit intimidating perhaps, to someone squeamish -or new to this process- but as Patch had said, this was only a cleaning. It wasn’t meant to dig in, or scratch, or alter internals not unless utterly butchered by impatience or carelessness. The point was more to dig out collected grime, smooth out roughness, or ware. Solus- some folks even found it comfortable, unless they were in serious disrepair, or had infection. Patch certainly tended to like the attention.

As she made her way back over, the young medic grabbed a stool, as well and brought it along to roll beside her.