Bankor

Tra sits in a chair in the medical center reading his datapad. The rest had been good for him. His face was not what it used to be, a noticeable sunken area on his right cheek and jaw as well as scarring from where the tissue was put back together expertly. His breath mask has been replaced with one that takes the new shape of his face into account, and his voice is a bit different. It's clear that the wound is still tender even after a month, but Cole's work had saved him and kept his jaw intact. There's an occasional click that he can feel when he speaks now, though it's not something others can hear. At the end of the day he is quite grateful for the care taken and counts himself fortunate he isn't dead.

He was told not too long ago that the doctors were going to discharge him from their care now that the breath mask was properly fitted and the wound was healed. Now he just waits on the last of the red tape.

Nytera gave a small bow as thanks to the doctor. She then walked inside in one of her pretty dresses. Regal, slick, alluring, and yet modest to preserve her political appearance. "I am so glad to see that you are being discharged soon, sir." She swallowed and put on an anxious smile. "I don't know what I would do if you died because of me."

Rising and tucking his datapad under his arm, he nodded to Nytera. "I would hope that you would go on fighting the good fight. That is the reason I stepped in the way after all," he replies with a slight chuckle. There is a roughness to his voice that wasn't present before.

He extends a hand to her. "I'm glad to see you well Miss Anacapri. Try not to let the incident bother you. I was there to help keep you safe and I was fortunate enough to accomplish that mission with the others' assistance."

"We had barely even met before," she expressed. Nytera wiped a finger along the bottom of her eye to check for any tears. "The only mention of you I had heard before all this began was that you were to be a guest lecturer at a university."

She took his hand with the gentleness ingrained in her. "You are so humble of an individual. It is difficult to believe," she said, in awe.

After a polite handshake, her returns his hand to his side.

"I've been a bit more aware of your exploits than you of mine, but you are one of the faces of the resistance. I was formerly in the same unit as Thazos and met Yanos at the University. When the Mandalorians touched down and the Kins took up the cause I went to them to support their efforts. And I know you all don't see eye to eye, but that's no reason not to help you as well. We're all in this resistance together." He adjusts his mask a few times trying to get used to the clicking he feels when he talks now, though that clicking is not audible.

"I will remain resolute in the face of this invasion Miss Anacapri. I have no doubt that you will too. And as always, I am happy to assist you as I can for the resistance."

Cole sauntered in, steaming mug of fresh kaff in his hand. He’d had to adjust the machine again, the settings always seemed to get shaken during transport. In his other hand was his datapad, skimming Tra’s case notes. “Ma’am,” he was curt and polite as he approached, “Specialist Kize.”

"Actually, it's Mr Kize. Or Rear Admiral Retired Kize, if you insist, but I prefer Mr. since it's easier and my commissioned days are long behind me," the Kel Dor clarifies.

“My apologies Rear Admiral, retired, Kize,” the corner of his mouth turned up in an apologetic manner, Cole had just been calling everyone who wasn’t currently serving or a Jedi ‘specialist’. Tra would recognise Cole’s cadences, the way he referred to the Kel Dor with a sort of defeated reverence, Cole was a man who called his own father sir.

"No worries. Thank you again for your expert medical care. I truly appreciate it," Tra replies.

Cole put away the datapad and ran a hand through his hair, “if I said it had been an honour or a pleasure, people might find me odd,” though the truth was that Cole gained considerable deep satisfaction from the intensity of his work, the pressure, and the laser-like focus that came over him when he was in the zone. “I just wanted to run one last scan and, if you’re feeling up to it, I can give you the all clear.”

"Of course, Dr. Ormont," Tra replies.

Cole double-tapped the arm of his spectacles, switching them on. He took a long pull from the mug of kaff, set it aside, and let a more professional air settle over him. Seeming to palm the mediscanner from the complex array of pouches and pockets, he passed the device near Tra, staring intently at the middle distance as the glasses filled with data only he could see.

The scan was done quickly, and Cole took out his datapad again, skimming through various information, tapping things here and there. He thumbprinted the file and there was a soft chime. “It’s all looking great. You are officially discharged on your own recognisance.”

"Much appreciated doctor," he says with a nod. "It feels much better than it did weeks ago."

[Need big crit heal]

Oddyn awakened suddenly, having intuitively detected the change in background noise of the hospital which heralded checkups. It had taken a month to stabilise him enough for a serious operation, a month of infirmity and tediousness. There had been times he raged to get out, and had been restrained lest he would jeopardise the arduous regenerated tissues over disruptor wounds. With time, he had come to accept his condition and the tortuous path out of it. Still, that he had persevered at all was no small medical miracle in itself, worth a doctorate to dedicate to.

"Doc!" He called, being able to sit up. "Is it today?"

“I should hope so,” he ran a hand through his blonde curls, “I’d be a damn poor doctor if you didn’t.” As Oddyn screamed out for him, Cole’s eyebrows lowered a fraction of an inch and he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. Nodding to Tra, “either way, you’re free to leave when you’re ready.” He crossed to the Mandalorian’s bed, “good morning, Specialist Vizsla.”

"Special pain in the ass, you were courteous not to say." Oddyn tried some dry humour for good morning. He greeted the physician with a nod. "Think I am good enough today to be fixed up and let to go?"

[4 Crits: Bleeding Out, Horrific Wound - Willpower, Compromised, Fearsome Wound]

Giving the doctor a final nod before he went to help out his next patient, Tra turned his focus back to Nytera.

"Clean bill of health, Miss Anacapri. Nothing to be concerned about anymore." It sounds like he may be smiling under the breath mask, though it's hard to tell.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you’re still here,” Cole pulled on a pair of gloves and examined the Mandalorian, “I thought you’d have slipped away during transport.” Continuing the treatment regime, “we can’t keep you here if you don’t want to stay, you know that, right?”


——
D7 EM: Crit-Oddyn; Medicine, Easy, Reduce Difficulty (Medpac): 2eP+2eA+1eB+1eD 2 successes, 4 advantage

Critical Injury (Fearsome Wound) removed.

Nytera stayed at the sidelines and finally smiled when she saw the all clear from the doctor. "Thank you," she said to Cole before he departed. She then took a closer step to Tra and smiled. "Are you sure this did not interfere with your plans for the Resistance, though? Recovery must have slowed some operations down."

"We do everything that we can, but a wounded soldier creates risk in a fight. People need to rest and recuperate so that they can be in top condition to continue the fight," he replies, shaking his head. "Whether it's the folks in charge or the fighters on the front line. I've never held the healing process against any of the men I've led or followed throughout the years, physical or otherwise."

He looks at her pointedly, "Some choose to fight through the pain they've endured, some are even inspired by it. However, when the time comes to heal then that is what they need to do. If you carry a burden or wound for too long then you wear yourself out."

"Well, that's refreshing." Oddyn looked into the mirror after Cole had removed the bandage from the side of his head. The scar would forever be there, but it didn't look half-bad. It looked like big operations were still in the cards, but for now it looked like he could at least move out and around without risk of spilling vital organs on sharper turns. "I take it as discharge. Thanks for everything, doc. If you want to join me for a drink sometime, it's my treat until you've had enough."

“Even in your current state I don’t think I could keep up. Try to keep track of your limbs from now on.”

"Your call, Doc." He shrugged. "I will. But someone has to do the heavy lifting in the thick of battle, and I don't shy away from that, therefore shit happens." He rubbed his cyberarm. He had got mostly used to it already.