Bankor

Oddyn came back for his scheduled procedure, looking for Cole. He carried a box of chocolates as a 'thank you' bribe.

"Doc!" He boomed.

Cole set down his mug, and turned. He’d be reading reports when the Mandalorian entered. “Specialist Vizsla,” he waved the man towards the nearest bed.

Anywhere outside the medbay Oddyn wasn't this goofy, but whenever he was passing the door and the scent of sterility was hitting his nostrils silly magic was taking over. Smiling brightly, he flopped on the bed and put the chocolates on the nearby table.

"Something for you, Doc, when I'm cured and gone and you're lonely with your droids. I'd bring whiskey but you've turned down drinks before."

Relaxing, he was getting ready for the procedure. It was a head wound, so anaesthesia was likely, but he had full confidence in the medical capabilities of curly blond.

[Horrific Wound!]

“Turn down a drink? That doesn’t sound like me,” Cole patted the pocket where he kept his hip flask. Turn down social interaction, maybe. Today, Cole was accompanied by a small droid, which seemed to be observing the doctor’s work, like a resident surgeon.

“Time to address that pseudoaneurysm,” the swelling hadn’t gotten worse, but it’s effects were still prominent enough that Cole had wanted to remove it once he felt Oddyn was stable enough. Now was that time. Though he did put the Mandalorian under, the work was done with slender, pin-hole tubes, the cut on his scalp would be barely noticeable once the surgery was done.


——
D10 EM: Stim Application; Medicine, Mini-Med +1B: 2eP+2eA+2eB+2eD 3 successes, 1 advantage

Cole gains +1 Intellect and takes 3 Strain.

D10 EM: Crit-Oddyn; Medicine, Med Backpack -1D, Master Doctor -1D, Mini-Med +1B: 2eP+3eA+2eB+1eD 2 successes, 2 advantage

Cole takes 0 Strain (+2 Master Doctor, -2 Advantages)

Critical Injury (Horrific Wound) removed.

Oddyn just smirked at the remark, then peacefully subjected himself to the chemical bliss, letting his consciousness drift away for a time. Had his previous patchers been as good at it as Cole, he wouldn't have had this many scars all across. Alas, good things often come late in life when they can no longer make all the difference.

By the time Oddyn came out of the anaesthesia, Cole had made himself his second kaff of the day, fetching up a stool near the Mandalorian’s bed. He was intently reading something on his datapad while he waited for the man to wake.

Waking up from chemical sleep, Oddyn couldn't stop yawning and blinking blearily for a while. "All's good, Doc?" He asked with hoarse voice from his parched throat.

Setting down his mug, Cole replaced it with a glass of water, leaning forward to offer it to the Mandalorian, “all good, until the next time.”

Oddyn took a grateful gulp. "Until next time, eh. Looks like it's going to end soon though?"

“This part of things, yeah,” the doctor suddenly looked very, very tired. “It never really ends.” Attempting to shake off some of the malaise that settled over him, “how else will we keep men like you in work?”

"Well, the Mando'ade do have entrepreneurial spirit to arrange our own wars if none are provided." Oddyn chuckled. "Guess if being a field medic is what you want to be doing in life, there's a synergy between you and me."

Running a hand through his hair, Cole waved vaguely to the white, sterile surrounds, "this is my field. Didn't you hear? I tried going outside once, and I got shot."

"And you live to tell the tale, that's something to take pride in." Oddyn smirked. "It's more I thought that instead of being glued to an infirmary you may just write some important book on medical stuff and go pass your experiences in one of the colleges in the Core Worlds. Or die trying to cure tropical disease in the Wild Space. We all die sooner or later, but you have options in choosing the circumstances."

Cole had been studying the Blight, in what limited capacity he could, after the Republic had been forbidden from the area and prevented from gathering samples. "I have some ideas," he nodded thoughtfully. Soon enough he'd actually have to do something about it.

"Heh. I have a small rule of my own to sort out good from bad things to do. Do only the things that, success or failure, you can feel you've deserved a bottle of the best whiskey for doing."

“Not a bad rule,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t think I’ll be able to afford much more than gutter whiskey for a while now.” He half-shrugged.

"Oh, that's a bummer, Doc. There should be good whiskey for the hard work you're doing here. I'll get you a bottle of something husky." Odd smirked.

“Gifts of whiskey are always appreciated. Going to strike out and make my own way for a bit,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I suppose I’ll be going thirsty for a while, until I learn my way.”