Bankor

Odd's body was chowing nutrition through the catheter as he lay gawking at the ceiling lamps, trying to doze off. With all the droid beeping it was hard though, especially that one was about to roll in with another shot of antibacterial medication.

His position gave him a good view as a red haired woman entered the tent, fiddled with a vapor cigarette, then put it back in her pocket as she looked for someone.

Odd didn't know her so she was probably not looking for him. "The Doc has just ended morning checks. It's just droids for now." He chatted up because sitting alone in hospital was not glorious.

"Crap," she sighed, finding some place to lean. "I guess I'll find him later." Thinking it polite, she nodded to him. "Luth Khalan."

"Oddyn Vizsla." It was bad taste to ask what was bringing her here, so he decided to change the subject, being at the top of Mandalorian sensitivity. "Enjoying the war?"

"... You know, as far as wars go, it's all right. I get to spend time with my girlfriend, so there's definitely worse things," she admitted after a moment of thought.

"Good for you then!" He nodded. "For me it's the company of medical droids that meets my most dire needs right now. Though I hope I can get back to shooting soon enough."

She nodded with a half-smile. "What's your weapon of choice?"

"A Sidewinder, but the heavier the better." He grinned, not minding any compensation jokes.

She grinned at that. "I prefer rifles for heavy, but I absolutely see the appeal. The Sidewinder's a thing of beauty."

"I like the rhythm of barrels turning. It's like steps in a dance." Oddyn empathised with a wry grin.

She nodded thought. "Hmm... I like that way of thinking of it. I think a rifle is like a bell - you're striving to hit that single, clear, decisive note."

"In the orchestra of battle there's place for both." The way she built on his thinking called for a broader smile.

"Indeed... This battlefield isn't quite a symphony, but it's certainly a nice little concerto," she said with a nod. She smiled back. Thinking of it that way was surprisingly helpful.

It was indeed. "If a trombone tells a cello she's doing it all wrong, she can always pluck it to the puffer to buzz off or blow." Odd held the grin.

That made her break into a laugh. "True enough, that."

He watched her laughing with a widening grin. "This is when we could toast for good recitalling, but I haven't yet figured out what medication can double as emergency bar shots."

"They might have a drug guide around you can get your hands on," she replied with a grin, coming over to sit closer to him as they talked. It had been a while since she'd had so much fun with a conversation.

"For now, just one hand." He raised it and waved with a smirk, pulling up into fully seated position. "I've been told the chrome replacement for the other is going to be attached tomorrow. But yeah, it'd be grand." He smiled slightly mischievously. "Would you know how to go about it?"

"Oops. Get your hand on," she replied, shaking her head with a chuckle. "Getting your hands on a drug guide? Maybe. It'd probably be wherever their other reference books are. Maybe not handy for everyone here."

"Handy, right." He laughed. "Or I could take you out for a proper drink once I'm out of here. Maybe there's a not entirely plundered bar in Rygor that will have some real thing."

"Now that sounds like a plan," she agreed. "I never mind a decent drink."

"Good. Looks like we have a plan for a high stakes scouting mission. Or high voltage one." He nodded firmly as he smoothed his beard.

She grinned and nodded. "I'm looking forward to it." She stood. "For now I should probably get going, though. Get some good rest."

"Yeah, I should. Thanks for coming by." He stretched. "Now to just fall asleep and dream of real whiskey."