[B-Deck] Meetings, Patch Ups, & Downtime

[Furby, J.]

It seemed that Private Wilkas was unwilling to see the truth in Jayson's words. Whether because she was totally naive or because she was so thoroughly brainwashed by the propaganda ONI Section II kept flooding the Inner Colonies and Earth with, he didn't know. It would take much more than any compelling argument he could come up with to convince her that he was right. Unfortunately, that probably meant she would have to see just how terrifyingly powerful the Covenant really were.

What she saw on the Templar was just a small taste of what the Covenant were truly capable of. She only saw what their ground troops were like, and had no idea how powerful the Covenant were when it came to ship-to-ship engagements. If humanity only had to fight the Covenant on the ground, they probably would have a chance of winning the war. But fighting them in space?

The Covenant always had the upper hand in space.

Furby's train of thought was sidelined when Wilkas told him she was from Russia. Earth. That explains a lot, he thought sarcastically. She grew up in the place furtherest from the frontlines, totally disconnected from the grim reality of the war. Wilkas didn't have to worry about whether or not the Covenant would suddenly show up and start classing the place. Earth was the safest place someone could live in these hard times.

"Cool," he said with a smile. "I'm a colony brat, myself. I'm from Crystal, in the Umbra System. It's one of the most beautiful colonies in UNSC Inner Colonial space. Next to Coral, of course."

His smile widened as he pictured his homeworld's sandy beaches and warm climate. Crystal was a paradise world and a huge tourist attraction. It was home to several major corporate entities, as the world was rich with all kinds of natural resources. Its many titanium reserves made the planet the perfect place to establish several orbital shipyards, where cruisers such as the Vengeance were put together every year.

Jayson's thoughts were interrupted by the metallic snik of the room's door opening. Glancing over his shoulder, Furby's eyes fell upon a middle aged man with olive skin and short, black hair. He wore a white coat and green scrubs underneath. Pinned to his coat's left breast pocket was a name tag that read, "LCDR S. BRIGGS".

"Private Grace Wilkas?" the man inquired, his eyes focused on a clipboard in his hands. "I'm Doctor Briggs. How can I help you today?"

[Stone, T.]

Sergeant Stone strode out of the elevator as soon as the double doors parted way, his pace brisk and determined. The chow hall would stop serving people at 2100, just a little over twenty minutes from now, and would fully close at 2130. Stone intended to tear off his gear and then haul ass over to the chow hall to get some grub in his stomach, and nothing was going to stop him from doing that.

The journey to the berthing area was quick and uneventful. The Navy crewmen that passed him in the halls gave him a wide berth, most of them aware of who he was and what his intentions were. After ten months of serving aboard this ship, it wasn't all that surprising that he knew most of the crew that worked on this deck. He had at least talked to each and every one of them once during their long tour of duty.

Thomas rounded the corner into the stretch of corridor that belonged to Second Platoon. On either side were doors that led into the berthing rooms of the platoon's three squads, and at the end of the corridor was the offices that belonged to the Lieutenant and Gunny Cruz respectively. Thom approached the door to First Squad's berthing room and passed through it as the door slid into the wall at his presence.

He immediately made a beeline towards the back of the room, passed the three four-man compartments that belonged to the squad's respective fire teams. At the very back of the room was a bed against the wall and a dresser beside it, with a footlocker in front of it. Stone knelt down by the footlocker and punched in the six digit code to unlock it, the swung the top open and immediately set about taking off his armor.

He started with his helmet, removing it and stuffing it in the left compartment of his footlocker. Then he unsnapped his chest plate and removed it, carefully setting it inside the footlocker beside his helmet. Next went the shoulder pauldrons and arm Bracers, then the armored leggings, and finally his gloves.

The Sergeant sighed in relief, the weight of his armor no longer bearing down upon his body. He swiftly closed the lid on his footlocker and rose to his feet before he turned on his heel and made a break for the door. Fifteen minutes. He now had fifteen minutes until the evening chow stopped being served. He knew he'd be cutting it close, but he was determined to get there in time to get himself a meal and fill his stomach up.

As he stepped out into the corridor, Stone's eyes suddenly fell upon the likes of Sergeant Mason heading for Second Squad's berthing area. Knowing that the man hadn't had anything to eat since he'd been thawed from cryo, he decided to offer him a chance to accompany him. "Mason," Stone called, "Wanna git some chow? I'll save ya a place in line 'n make sure those assholes don't stop servin' til ya git there."

[Durant, M.]

Michael listened to the instructions given to him by the Major before nodding his head curtly. "Aye, sir," he replied. He silently debated whether or not he had anything further to discuss with Killinger for a minute, before deciding there wasn't. So, he stood up from the chair and said, "Have a good evening, sir."

With that, he stepped around the chair and made his way out of the Major's office. The corridor outside the office was busy, with naval personnel moving to and fro. Durant ignored them, however, and started on his way back to his quarters. A small part of him wanted to pay Cruz a visit and verbally reprimand him for his actions, but he knew that it would do no good. After all, he was pretty sure the soon-to-be Staff Sergeant had already received an ear full from the Major.

No, the reduction in rank and the loss of two months base pay would have to be reprimand enough. Right now, he had more important things to concern himself with than taking out his frustration on the apparently insubordinate Gunnery Sergeant. He had to fill out a list of people within his platoon that would be receiving awards, work on his after action report for the platoon's now completed mission, and work on a duty schedule that would go into effect when the Vengeance arrived at Sigma Octanus.

A Lieutenant's work is never done, he thought with a slight sigh. He hated the deskwork portion of his job. As far as he was concerned, desk work was the job of a POG, not a combat officer. He was a warrior, and his place was on the battlefield leading his men into the midst of battle. Unfortunately, those higher up in the chain-of-command didn't see things his way, and so no matter how much he hated to admit it, there was no way he could get himself out of filling out paperwork.

[Wilkas, G.]

"Crystal?" Grace echoed having never heard of such a colony before. "I will have to take your word for it then". There conversation was interrupted by the timely arrival of the Doctor, finally she would be able to get her injuries seen to, not that she minded the wait at all, the bed happened to be really comfortable. 

"Yes that's me Doctor and well... It's my legs I twisted the ankle on one and got shrapnel in the other" She explained to him wondering what the treatment would be for such wounds. It probably wouldn't be anything that could significantly delay or prevent her having to see Durant afterwards, a thought that still haunted her mind. 

Grace had suffered injuries before in basic, but most marines at some point or other injured themselves during training. Grace in her case ran afoul of some barbed wire which she rather forcibly removed herself from, rather than gently, cautiously and with the careful movements of a brain surgeon untangled herself from, she tore herself free. It led to a few nice scars, yet it failed to compare to the injuries received on the battlefield. 

She was reminded of Faust, Grace always thought of the Corporal to be a nail, as it hard as nails yet when she got hit... Grace would be hearing those screams for a long time to come.

She hoped that Faust would pull through the operation and recover from her injuries.

Wilkas' mind once more brought up the idea of panicking over what Durant could possibly want to see her about. So many different suggestions filled her mind, the majority of them bad ones. Perhaps he sought to speak with her before discharging her from service because she panicked when they where exploring the UNSC ship, or maybe in the initial fire fight, because Grace froze up from terror. Those plasma weapons made some horrifying sounds. That Durant wished to speak with her over such cowardice. 

At least she did not flee in her defence, then she would have been both a coward and a deserter. No she had stayed with her platoon and with a little encouragement joined the fight herself. 

Which led to one of her injuries... Yet such was the fate of a soldier, to fight and risk being wounded, maimed, killed or possibly the worst fate for any human in this war. Capture by the Covenant. However such an event such as capture by the Covenant was unlikely, right? The majority of public information broadcasts said that the aliens did not take any prisoners. Maybe it was true and the aliens didn't or on the other hand it could be propaganda to try to convince members of the UNSC to keep fighting. 

Grace remembered the last time she was in Moscow seeing a poster that showed a UNSC marine fighting and the words NOT A STEP BACK. The UNSC it seemed was resorting to any means to keep morale up, even plundering from history in search of slogans or phrases in which to use to help keep morale up. 

[Furby, J.]

Doctor Briggs scribbled something down with a ink pen that had been clipped to the right breast pocket of his jacket on the clipboard, nodding his head. Then the Doctor walked over to the bed and stood beside Wilkas, examining her legs for a moment. He lifted up her pants legs and closely scrutinized the shrapnel wound.

"You're rather lucky, Private," the Doctor said, his tone matter-of-fact. "That piece of shrapnel missed the femoral artery by mere inches. If it had of hit it, you probably would be dead."

An eerie silence fell upon the room, and Furby shifted uncomfortably. He didn't think that that was something Wilkas really had needed to know. It might only serve to scare and worry her more than she already was, and that was something nobody needed.

Jayson hated doctors.

Doctor Briggs scribbled something else on the clipboard and then said, "Not to worry. Removing the shrapnel and getting you patched up will be easy. Excuse me for a moment." The doctor walked away and out the door, leaving Wilkas and Furby alone again. Silence persisted between the two, and just as Jayson was about to break the silence, the doctor returned.

In his hands he had a cannister of biofoam,a packet of MediGel, and a roll of field dressing. He approached Wilkas from the side of the bed and placed those items in his hand on a metal tray beside him. Doctor Briggs then pulled out a pair of white gloves and put them on, and then brought his hands down on Wilkas leg, feeling for the piece of shrapnel. His fingers wrapped around it, and with a gentle tug he tore it from her leg.

Immediately he grabbed the cannister of Biofoam and placed the nozzle over top the wound. "Now, Private, you're going to feel a sharp pain very briefly. Don't worry, that's just the Biofoam filling the wound." No sooner had the words left his mouth did the doctor pull the trigger on the cannister. A white, foamy substance oozed out of the nozzle and filled the wound before it quickly hardened and solidified. Doctor Briggs set the cannister aside and grabbed one of the packets of MediGel. He tore it open and squeezed the green gel onto his figure, then rubbed the gel onto the top of the wound and around it.

"The MediGel will help kick start your body's healing process. Eventually the Biofoam will breakdown and dissolve, and the MediGel will speed up your body sealing the wound up and healing it," Doctor Briggs explain, then grabbed the roll of field dressing and began to wrap her wounded leg with it.

Briggs tore a strip off from the roll and finished dressing the wound, then set the roll down ad moved on to Wilkas's other leg. He brought his hand to his right breast pocket and placed his fingers inside of it, searching for something. That something became apparent as he pulled out a long, thick syringe. "I am going to inject you with a bone knitting polymer. What this'll do is speed up your ankle's healing process, so that in a few days it'll be fully healed and good as new," Briggs explained.

He aimed the needle at the end of the syringe towards Wilkas's ankle, and then brought it down upon it. "You'll feel a slight pinch," Briggs warned, and then stuck her ankle with the needle and began injecting the bone knitting polymer into her ankle. A moment later he pulled the syringe away from her ankle and tossed it into the nearby trash dispenser. He grabbed the roll of dressing and then wrapped her ankle with it.

"I'm going to give you a pair of crutches that I want you to use for the next three days. After that I want you to come back and see me so I can check on your ankle. Try to keep pressure off of it as much as you can," the Doctor ordered her. "I'm going to write your CO a note to put you on light duty for the next few days. Once your ankle is healed up, you can return to your regular duties. Understood?"

He awaited her answer and then nodded. "Very well. I'll be right back."

The doctor left after that, again leaving Furby and Wilkas in the room alone. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Jayson said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

[Wilkas, G.]

"Understood Doctor" Grace answered her voice tight with pain. As soon as he was out of ear shot she whispered to Furby. "Next time I will try to get myself killed that hurt more than being injured". Her eyes held a brief glimmer of humour but clearly she wasn't impressed with the Doctor's bedside manner, his treatment of her injuries though good, happened to be rather rough and painful. 
Well on the plus side her wounds would now heal, quickly if the Doctor's words where to be believed. The downside however meant that she would have to go find Durant and speak with him.
Something she would much rather put off, find a rug some place and sweep it under there forever.

"Crutches hey? Mind opening a few doors for a marine in distress?" She joked poorly, she thought about saying Damsel, but she was far from one of those and the marines made sure there where no damsels in their ranks, just marines.
They would take some getting used to since Wilkas until now never ever used crutches before. She expected them to be a steep learning curve, one which no doubt she would have to adapt quickly to, or face the wrath of the Doctor for not healing fast enough.

Right there... That was probably all the encouragement she needed to master the art of crutches. Light duties did not sound too bad however, that was something that she would not mind doing, missing out on heavier duties went down fine with her.
Though her mind held no illusions as soon as she recovered enough the Sargents would be certain to make up for her previous lack of heavy duties, probably with extra PT spawned fresh from the mind of Sargents, who never seemed to tire or grow tired of shouting.

It was almost like they weren't human, which they probably weren't being marine Sargents. 

Until then there was nothing for it but to relax, perform light duties and survive the talk with Durant, the latter she wished she could some how avoid. Yet... There happened to be no realistic way that she could escape it, not without getting into trouble.
Which would inevitably lead to her having to go talk to Durant anyway, better to just go talk to him, besides it might not be as bad as she thought, he might want to congratulate her further on her actions. Like he did when they came off of the Pelicans...
Yet if he only desired that, the need for a private talk was illogical. 
Perhaps she was in hot water after all and Durant wished to yell at her for her panic attack earlier. In short not her fault, okay okay, fine perhaps a little bit her fault yet the UNSC recruited her they would know that sort of stuff if they bothered to look at her medical records. 
The UNSC more than likely did not care, so long as they had marines to replace those that fell and to keep their numbers, thus the unit's strength up. 

[Davis, E.]

Davis made his way towards the infirmary with only a quick stop at his room to strip off the body armor. The living quarters were exactly as he had remembered them, right down to the initials he had etched on the inner lip of his foot locker. His fresh linens were set out on the bunk, begging to be made and then laid upon, but he had other work to do first. He quickly closed the hatch behind him, a well worn garrison cap set on his head.

The path to the infirmary was all too familiar, even though Davis had yet to spend much time there. There was something about the passageways that led to the chop shop that always made him uncomfortable. He never could see any blood, but he always felt like there must be gallons of it unseen, left from those who leaked through their stretchers on the way from the hangers. The infirmary had more uses than just that, but it was the most important, and Davis hoped he would never have time to see it. Something told him that he would be here many times before he was off of a ship.

"Excuse me Petty Officer," he said, getting the receptionist's attention. "I'm here to get a pair of my troopers. I'd also like to check on a Corporal Faust, if she is stable enough to be seen."

"Give me a minute Corporal," the Petty Officer said quickly, tapping her fingers across a datapad. "What company?"

"Oscar Company, first battalion," he said quickly.

"Name and rank of who you need?"

"Private Wilkas and Private First Class Furby. I would also like an update on Corporal Faust."

"Corporal Faust is still in surgery, Corporal, but Private Wilkas is ready for release. I have no record of a Private First Class Furby."

"He was an escort. Any idea when Corporal Faust might be up for a friendly face?"

"Try back in twenty four hours Corporal. Private Wilkas is in Exam room twenty nine."

"Thank you Petty Officer," Davis offered with a charming smile. He didn't expect her to swoon, but who knew, if he was lucky the Petty Officer would remember him later when they weren't on duty. Always good to have many options for entertainment. He pushed his way back into the heart of the infirmary, quickly finding exam room twenty nine. Putting his NCO face back on, he opened the door without knocking.

"Furby, you better be in here," he muttered loud enough to be heard. "If I have to hunt you down...Good, you are here. They said you're set to go Private. Crutches. Looks good. Should earn you a free drink or two. If you two want to eat, we need to move now. Chow stops serving in fifteen."

Davis stood holding the door, staring at them both with an intense frown, as though that alone would force them to move faster. He would have liked chow, but he was pretty sure that Wilkas wouldn't make it in time, being new to crutches. The very idea made him less than pleased, but he could skip a meal without any issues. That being said, it was a prime opportunity to exercise his troops if he was deprived of a meal.

[Furby, J.]

Furby sat quietly as the Doctor worked on patching up Wilkas. He chuckled when she seized up from the bone knitting injection. She hadn't seemed afraid of the needle, which led him to believe that she had felt much more than just a "pinch" when the point of the needle broke through her skin. I guess this guy doesn't know what he's doing, he thought with an amused grin.

The doctor retracted the needle and set it down, then got to work on applying a conservative amount of MediGel around the point of injection. Jayson watched as he wrapped her ankle up and listened as he explained to Wilkas that she would need crutches.

When the Doctor walked out, Wilkas finally spoke, and asked him to remind her to get herself killed the next time she were to injure herself enough to warrant a visit to Sick Bay. Jayson laughed. "I'try to remember to remind you if you go and get yourself shot or something," he replied with a wide, toothy grin. "And as for openin' doors, how much are ya gonna pay me since I guess I'm workin' for you now?"

He gave her a charming smile and a playful wink. "Of course I'd open doors for you. I believe it is my sworn duty to lend assistance to any Marine in distress... especially when they're pretty." He paused for a moment, the charming smile now wider and more boyish. Then, suddenly, he threw his hands up. "Okay, okay, ya got me. Only if they're pretty do I open doors for them," he amended

A knock on the door came just before it opened. The Doctor stepped into the room, crutches in hand, and he handed them over to Private Wilkas. "There you go, Private. You're now free to go," he said, and then walked out of the room. The door shut behind him and Jayson marched over to the side of the bed.

"Let me help you onto your feet," he told her. Together they managed to get her on her feet and he handed her the crutches. Furby was just about to ask her if she was ready to go when the voice of Corporal Davis came through the door. A second later the door was open and the Corporal was in the room with them. He glared at the NCO for a moment, unamused by the fact that he suggested he would have to hunt him down.

I think I know my way around a ship, he thought, suppressing the urge to scoff. Already it seemed like the Corporal was trying to be some big, bad NCO. He hadn't been a Corporal for that long and already he was trying to kiss ass and climb the rank scale. Jayson shook his head. I hate the Marine Corps.

"I wouldn't mind some food, Corporal," Furby said, and then turned his head to look at Wilkas. "You think you can make it or do you want me to carry you?"

[Wilkas, G.]

Grace was grateful for the assistance in getting up off of the bed, it helped her to balance on the crutches. Replying to the Corporal she said "Well... I wouldn't mind some food but the difficulty is in getting there for me, Corporal." Besides there happened to be another matter which outranked food and a Corporal. "Actually... I can't," Wilkas informed them suddenly. "You see I need to see the LT he told me to find him after I had finished here."

In truth, she did not feel that hungry more weary than anything. She would have liked to have found a quite spot and sleep, bed or no bed she just wanted to rest, close her eyes, drift off and try to blot out as much of today as humanly possible. 

But there was no avoiding it, today had happened and... She would need to go see Durant. "Thank you for your offer of opening doors, Furby. I however will need to go in a different direction. You can go grab something to eat if you want." At least then she would not be preventing him from going to get some food if he desired to. It would more than likely take a while for her to reach Durant.

But hey, you gotta do what you gotta do right?

The real challenge there would be surviving whatever he had to say to her. Wilkas' mind long settled on whatever needed to be said in his office happened to be something either terrible, negative or just plan bad. Perhaps even a mixture of the three of those things, all stirred up with a pinch of grimness added in on the top. 

Grace took a small wobbly step forward her intentions were not to leave the room just yet. She needed to adjust to those crutches before she could really leave, because otherwise she might fall over a lot more out there. 

It may be better if one must fall to fall in the medical bay, so she could be patched up if she injured herself  by falling. 

She took another cautious step, this one even more wobbly than the previous one. Grace found herself laughing lightly, this whole attempt at moving on crutches reminded her of a new born baby Giraffe that she had seen on a programme about a zoo. It struggled to stand up, move and remain standing. It however possessed four legs, where as Grace could only ever have three, one being her uninjured leg, the others being the crutches. 

Still the similarities made her laugh, it was really funny in her opinion. She stopped laughing remembering that she shared the room with two of her fellow marines. "I... This reminds me of something." She explained rather poorly to them both with a small grin. 

[Davis, E.]

"Private, if you are hungry, go eat first," Davis said doing his best to not smile as Wilkas wobbled her way around the exam room. "The LT can polish his bar for a while. If you aren't hungry, that is fine, but you really should eat. It'll be a while till chow opens back up. I'm not going to force you to head down there, but it is highly recommend. If the LT is going to lose his mind because you ate first, I'll take the hit for it."


Davis was hoping she picked to eat. It wasn't like you could force a Private to take care of themselves, but the new people always seemed to forget just how many calories they burned, even when in Cryo. Especially in Cryo. Davis was known to skip meals regularly, but the meal after Cryo and a mission was quite important. But, again, you couldn't just force a Private to chow. At least not directly.

Holding the door to the Exam room open, he motioned to both of them to start towards the passageway. Everyone needed to be out of the infirmary at a minimum, and he wasn't going to stand there and waste precious seconds while a greenhorn tried to make a decision. She could decide on the move. And if he was lucky, she might even fall on her face. He'd pick her up, but a chance for something funny to happen was always a plus.

[Furby, J.]

The idea of food caused Furby's empty stomach to growl. He wasn't quite sure when the last time it was that he had eaten, but he knew it before they had been put in the freezers for their trip to Sigma Octanus. Which, of course, had been delayed by their now completed mission on the Templar. So, needless to say, he wanted something to eat.

However, it seemed Wilkas had other priorities. The Lieutenant wanted to see her in his office, and she felt obligated to go see him right this second. Jayson scoffed and shook his head. He was about to give the Private his two cents on the matter when Davis did that for him.

The El-Tee could wait was the gist of what the Corporal said, and Furby agreed. "Damn right," he replied. "Foods more important right now, Wilkas. You haven't had anything to eat since we got thawed from the freezers. Hell, none of us have. So, the El-Tee can wait a little longer."

Jayson turned his head to glance at Davis for a second, giving him a look that said, "I hope she goes with us. If she decided to be stubborn, then honestly there was nothing either of them could do about it. He would hate to go to chow without her, but he knew he would get over it. If she regretted her decision not to eat when she had the chance later on, it wasn't his problem.

[Wilkas, G.]

Grace listened to both marines, but honestly she didn't have much of an appetite. In truth the thought of food at the moment made Wilkas feel more than a little be sick. That and she remembered clearly what the LT had said to her. She needed to go see him after finishing in the medical bay, it wasn't right to let him wait.

Besides the sooner that she spoke with Durant, the sooner she could find some place quiet enough, get as comfortable as best she could and let herself fall asleep. 

Both of them where right about her not having anything to eat, a few chewable mints really wouldn't have counted. Nothing but empty calories. "I'm not hungry". She answered her eyes flicking from one to the other. "I do not feel like eating". Grace explained, her appetite most likely suppressed by the horrors that she had the poor fortune to observe during her trial by fire. 

"You can go get something to eat by all means... I just think if I eat anything it will come back... I.. And I do not want that". She added wondering if they would understand her. 

Wilkas seemed to have adapted to the concept of crutches, even though her movements lacked the usual trade mark grace. All that she needed now was to find Durant, talk with him, the latter part being what scared her the most and could easily be another reason that her appetite failed to be found anywhere. 

She really needed to get moving Durant shouldn't have to wait any longer. 

Yet, it felt rude to leave her Davis and Furby before they both had a chance to reply to her. Both of them seemed very insistent on the fact that she ate something with them. The latter, she supposed could quite happily order her to go to the mess and eat something, anything... Even though Grace herself doubted highly that it would actually stay down. If that where the case, Wilkas would probably object however it was an order and she'd have to follow it.
She hoped that it did not come to that. 

[Davis, E.]

"Furby, go get some chow," Davis said, having heard the Wilkas's words clearly. "You've earned it. I expect you know your way there. You did good work out there today. I'll see you at next formation. Let's go get you to the LT, Wilkas. With you still looking like a newborn foal, I want to make sure you get there without crashing into anything or anyone."

Without another word, he turned and started towards the living quarter's, pausing a few feet away to make sure Wilkas was moving. It wasn't a long trip, but he wouldn't just let her flounder her way along a ship she wasn't familiar with. It wasn't right for an NCO to just leave a trooper lost and alone, even if they weren't the ones to take them.

"Wilkas," he started, once she had caught up, "You don't have a team, but you still seem like you could use a team lead. You need anything that an NCO should be responsible for, you call me. When we have PCCs, I'm checking you. When you fall in formation, you fall in with First Team. You follow the LT around on mission, but you belong to me, understand?"

[Wilkas, G.]

Wilkas moved as fast as she could, following Davis. As it turns out, it wasn't very fast at all. It was difficult to keep up. Grace listened quietly to what Davis told her. She nodded slowly in understanding. "I understand Corporal and thank you." Grace appreciated it greatly. "So I will fall in with your team but follow Durant on missions? Okay."

Wilkas was grateful for Davis' to guide her around the ship, much of the time she had previously spent on it had been in cryo... So to her it was nothing more than a maze of confusing corridors with labels. 

"You will have to buy me dinner first before I belong to you Corporal," Wilkas responded teasingly with a hint of her nervous humour. She honestly did not want to see Durant, but unfortunately for Grace, she did not have a choice in the matter. 

She wondered what the conversation would be about, to say that Wilkas was afraid happened to be a drastic understatement. Grace felt terrified by the prospect of meeting Durant privately, in his own office. 

She wobbled unsteadily on her crutches almost losing her balance yet managing to recover, barely. "This is difficult." She admitted reluctantly, more to herself than to present company. 

Soon, she knew despite their slow pace Grace would find herself at Durant's door and tried to brace herself for the conversation that would follow. Her mind raced fearfully, conjuring up all different versions of conversation in her mind, each more terrible than the last. 

[Durant, M.]

Lieutenant Durant sighed in relief and rubbed his temple vigorously, the tension of all the work he had to do causing a splitting headache. Despite having much more to work on, he basked in the elation he felt from having completed the After Action Report that Major Killinger had asked him to do. It was a huge load off his shoulders, and freed him up to complete the rest of the things listed on his extremely long list of priorities.

Michael leaned back in his chair for a moment, his head tilted upwards towards the ceiling. He stared at the bland, dull gray metal that was the room's ceiling, quietly wishing he was somewhere else right now. Or someone else.

Durant was not, by any means, a lean, mean, typing machine. He preferred being out in the field to be confined in an office space behind a desk. To him, combat was a far simpler affair, and far more exciting. He was at home on the battlefield, handing out the orders that would lead to mission accomplishment and ensuring the safety of his Marines. There was no greater rush than that of battle.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, Durant leaned forward and grabbed hold of a bottle of painkillers. He unscrewed the top and placed it on the desk, then picked up the bottle and held out his left hand flat, dumping a pair of pills into his open palm. He set the bottle down and screwed the lid back on, then plopped the two pills in his mouth and shot his head back, swallowing them. Hopefully that'll cure my headache he thought, somewhat optimistically.

The Lieutenant was about to open up an E-mail and place the completed AAR in it as an attachment to be sent to the Major, when there came a knock at his door. That's probably Wilkas, he mused. "Enter," he said, then swiveled his chair around to face the door to his quarters.