*The needle goes in clean, with barely a sting, and in short order is hooked up to the bag already drip-feeding nutrient-rich fluid down the tube.*
I asked for a complete list, Steve. Things in with the pasta would have been relevant. If I seem brisk right now, it's not because I think you're incompetent, it's because I think you're close to dead.
*As she speaks, she digs out a small tool that looks a little like what doctors of Steve's own era might use to check someone's ears or eyes--a cylinder to hold and a head of some kind. She loads a small bottle of liquid into the base of the cylinder, however, and presses it to the side of Steve's neck. There's a soft hiss and a slight tingle.*
While Verity's not here, I want to ask you something, and I'm going to ask you to hold down your initial reflex and just answer me honestly. I'm literally an alien, my values are almost completely different from mid-twentieth century Earth's, and the only thing I might judge you on is dishonesty.
That said, you've mentioned that you'd prefer to be in the company of those soldiers risking their lives on the front lines--you made a point of mentioning the risk of life, in fact. You're in a very strange place, cut off from your home Facet for at least the time being, and you were just at a party that highlighted the strangeness you find yourself in. Feelings of dissociation and depression would be natural.
*Her eyes meet his, incisive, clear, penetrating, but not cruel, nor judging, nor even pitying.*
no subject
*The needle goes in clean, with barely a sting, and in short order is hooked up to the bag already drip-feeding nutrient-rich fluid down the tube.*
I asked for a complete list, Steve. Things in with the pasta would have been relevant. If I seem brisk right now, it's not because I think you're incompetent, it's because I think you're close to dead.
*As she speaks, she digs out a small tool that looks a little like what doctors of Steve's own era might use to check someone's ears or eyes--a cylinder to hold and a head of some kind. She loads a small bottle of liquid into the base of the cylinder, however, and presses it to the side of Steve's neck. There's a soft hiss and a slight tingle.*
While Verity's not here, I want to ask you something, and I'm going to ask you to hold down your initial reflex and just answer me honestly. I'm literally an alien, my values are almost completely different from mid-twentieth century Earth's, and the only thing I might judge you on is dishonesty.
That said, you've mentioned that you'd prefer to be in the company of those soldiers risking their lives on the front lines--you made a point of mentioning the risk of life, in fact. You're in a very strange place, cut off from your home Facet for at least the time being, and you were just at a party that highlighted the strangeness you find yourself in. Feelings of dissociation and depression would be natural.
*Her eyes meet his, incisive, clear, penetrating, but not cruel, nor judging, nor even pitying.*
So: was this an attempt to kill yourself?