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[ The infirmary is becoming a very popular backdrop for these public posts, but it isn’t like there’s much else to do in the infirmary. “Try to get better” is going on his list of stupid things people say when they’ve got nothing, and he’s never going to say it to anyone again.

His bed’s raised to put him in a sitting position, with the tablet in front of him and his right hand hovering near his stomach because he doesn’t quite trust that the device won’t fall on him. It’s been that kind of week. ]

I think I’m getting sprung soon. There’s definitely less meds, and I’ve been downgraded from chocolate to tapioca so I think the welcome’s wearing thin. But, hey, the chance of busting a gut is way down.

[ He smiles, but he looks worn around the edges. The side effects of getting torn up by a maniac and getting medical care from an evil corporation and belatedly worrying about what he could’ve said when drugged. ]

Or it is now that I’ve officially used up all my related puns. I had some great sight gags planned, but they’re refusing to work with me on this. They won’t bandage me into a mummy, the doc vetoed my giant belly ring idea, and you won’t believe the look I got when I suggested a Mr. Potato Head port for accessories.

[ He shakes his head, because this is clearly a missed opportunity. ]

I really thought the snack tray attachment would clinch it for me. Next time I’m going to book a hype man for my pitch.

[ But, in the meantime, he’s here, with no cable, and he’s really trying to not bother people that need to rest. ]

Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks. [ He throws it in at a random space and doesn’t expound on it. Robbie doesn’t know all the ins and outs of how Rogue and he were found, but he’s immensely grateful. ] So... anybody want to play 20 Questions? Or tic tac toe or hangman, if you can keep track? I’ll even open up a PG-13 AMA.

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[The Infirmary had temporarily been a disaster zone, but despite Brainy bursting on scene as the only (extremely inexperienced) doctor type person and upending everything in Glotfelty's absence, there is now calm and there are three patients recovering from surgery (and the fourth in the capable hands of a roboticist).]

[The last stitch has been put in place, the last wound dressed, and Brainy has washed up and changed back out of his bloody scrubs and into his navy rig uniform. His omnicom (temporarily allowed by Washburn in a surprise bout of reasonableness) has a small holographic projection of three sets of vitals and ongoing medical scans. One of them matches Robbie's monitor.]

[He's asleep now, having finally given into exhaustion. Normally he functions on far less sleep, but all the activity and stress has burned through his normal endurance. Especially since Jorgmund still hasn't accounted for the amount of calories he needs every day. Special K gave him five pudding cups on the sly to try to make up for it. But still, he's given into the fatigue and now he's slumped at Robbie's bedside, asleep in his chair, arms and head resting on the bed.]

[Despite the ongoing medical monitoring and the alarms set to go off if any of their vitals tank, he still has a hand wresting gently on Robbie's wrist, fingers against his pulse. A single track of consciousness is only half-asleep, keeping an eye on it to make sure it stays strong and steady.]

[His face is turned towards Robbie's where he lay, his expression slightly distressed but mostly unguarded. His skin is clammy - he'd put the uniform back on during the night when it was cold, and now the desert heat has the Infirmary a touch too hot. His hair is wildly unkempt, cowlicks unable to pick a single direction.]

[He's also drooling slightly due to the way his mouth is pressed against the starchy blanket.]

[Very dignified.]

[ The pulse jumps into a quicker rhythm, fitting in another nine of ten beats per minute. It’s not a worrying difference, just the first sign of waking up.

However, at this first tease of consciousness, Robbie’s body and mind throw themselves at it wholeheartedly, and damn the torpedoes. The result is not a delicate flutter of eyelashes and a drowsy groan, but a lurching crunch upwards off the mattress and an immediate zombiesque moan as he drops back down.

Robbie’s not coherent enough to determine if that hurt, but his stomach definitely said no más. Anyway, he still hasn’t managed to open his eyes yet so he’s not sure if he can manage más right now. There’s an urgency to opening his eyes, but he can’t figure out what it is with a brain full of cotton candy.

He’s not on the floor, anymore, so that’s nice. And he’s warm, that’s nice too. He’d been so cold, and he didn’t want to fall asleep. Robbie doesn’t want to fall back asleep.

Something’s holding his right hand, and so it’s his left arm that drifts up to rub at his eyes - and misses. His forearm hits his forehead and slides up his forehead, over his hair, and onto the pillow. Some flailing around finally gets the back of his hand mashing against his eyes and cheek, where it drags against tape and tubing.

That finally clicks as wrong enough for Robbie to force his eyes open, and his eyelids weigh about fifty pounds as he stares up at the ceiling and the wall behind him. Metal, machines, white... he’s completely confused. He’s lived at least five places with rooms like this, and Brainy’s presence doesn’t narrow it down far enough. Robbie hates this feeling; he’s been struggling to keep up ever since that asshat shot at - ]

Rogue? Brainy, help me!

[ Or at least, that’s what he thinks he says. In reality, it sounds more like ‘Woh-oo? Pweh-nee, hel-lee’.

There’s a frenetic, uncoordinated attempt to get up again. Robbie pulls his right hand free to fumble at the side of the bed for leverage and paws at the wires on his face with his left.

Equally charming, a true sleeping beauty. ]

[The track of consciousness that was keeping watch jolts all the others awake. Brainy's mental processing time and the fact he's waking from a normal sleep rather than an altered state of consciousness means he goes from sleeping to wide awake and coherent in a nanosecond.]

[He stands, then sits on the side of the bed, bodily blocking Robbie from getting out of bed, a heavy hand on his shoulder, the other hand firmly grabbing the hand pulling at the wires and tubing.]

Robbie, sit still.

[It is a voice of steely authority, the voice he uses when he's trying to make it clear, that under no uncertain circumstances, others should immediately listen to him. It is a tone of voice he uses frequently and one his teammates trust because it snaps into place when they must do something urgently against an imminent threat. ]

Rogue is alive. Everyone is alive. No one died. No one died.

[And because he knows Robbie will be thinking it...]

Your powers didn't harm anyone. Rogue safely absorbed them. The enemy is gone. You're in the Medbay. [It's called the Infirmary here, but it's Medbay on Legion World, and the Medbay has only ever been a safe place for the displacees to recover.] Everyone is recovering.

[He moves the hand from his shoulder to gently touch Robbie's temple.]

I'm using my empathic power to help you calm down because if you undo any of those stitches, I swear I will hold you in the infirmary an extra week. Until you nearly expire from boredom.

Tell me when to stop.

[Whatever causes his power seems to bypass Robbie's psionic immunity in much the same way the Sisters of Sin could. But the calm he's projecting isn't intrusive. It's the mental equivalent of a warm blanket around the shoulders, the natural calm Robbie would eventually reach on his own, granted several minutes early. It is also simply Brainy as a mental presence, close by.]

[And it is something that will stop with just a word, when Robbie wants it to.]

You're safe. Everyone is safe. Breathe.

Edited 2020-11-11 21:13 (UTC)

[ Robbie stills at the order. In his experience, the bossier Brainy gets, the more imperative it is to listen to him. Some people favour leading by example, others by heart, but Querl’s leadership leans heavily on an almost annoying combination of being right and righteousness. Robbie’s learned that, if Brainy orders someone to do something, it’s the best course of action for everyone.

But then Querl proves that he’s perfectly capable of empathy without any superhuman abilities, if it were ever in doubt, by answering every question that Robbie hasn’t been able to properly form yet.

Rogue’s okay. Everyone’s okay. No one died. They’re safe.

And he didn’t hurt anyone.

Robbie relaxes into the bed and breathes slowly if not deeply. He lays there for a good minute just letting that wash over him. He - everyone’s safe.

He meekly blinks up at Brainy. He feels distinctly seen and understood, but supported rather than vulnerable or exposed. Querl knows what makes Robbie tick. ]

I’m still. Please don’t expire me with boredom. Do you want the room to smell like rancid Robbie?

[ He’s a bit easier to understand, without the panic fighting against the drugs still working their way out of his system, although it will be awhile before he makes complete sense. Whether it’s the knowledge or the empathic guidance, he’s soothed.

And he doesn’t mind it, a touch of the steadiness that he associates with Brainy. All that thought processing power gives him a level-headed assurance that’s very appealing to Robbie, whose life has been general chaos since he was fifteen. It makes him feel... protected. He doesn’t really want it to stop. ]

No expiration then.

[Brainy keeps up the calming mental touch because Robbie has seemed to find it comforting so far. He extends it into a physical touch as well, first cupping Robbie's cheek gently. Then he starts petting his hair.]

[He knows how many times Robbie has woken up in places like this, after getting hurt. And how few of those times someone was there to comfort him. How many harsh awakenings had he had? How many times had he been hurt and alone? How many times had he woken up to face people that were cruel and uncaring?]

[So one hand just pets Robbie's hair, in a way that says "you're safe and everything's going to be okay."]

[His other hand deftly scans Robbie with his omnicom, a brain scan now that he's conscious, to make sure the blood loss hasn't had any deleterious effects. He looks over the results without removing his hand from Robbie's hair.]

You should also make full recovery.

[He wants to assure him of that as well, but knew he needed the emphasis on others first.]

Let me know when you're more alert and I'll give you more information. For now, just calm yourself. You need to try to keep your blood pressure down until you recover.

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In person visit from another sickie