| Medbay Madness | |
|---|---|
| Date of Scene: | 16 September 2019 |
| Location: | Medical Bay |
| Synopsis: | Swindle winds up in the Medbay for an unusual medical issue. Unpleasantness ensues. |
| Cast of Characters: | Swindle, Vortex, Goth |
- Swindle has posed:
Swindle is back in the Medbay! But this time, it's as a patient. He's coughing up thick oily sludge (ewww) and picks a med bed and arranges pillows so that he's somewhat sitting up while lying down. "Stupid nanites," he mutters under his vent.
- Vortex has posed:
Vortex sees Swindle come and heads to his side. "Ew Swindle, what happened? Did you lose a bet?"
- Goth has posed:
Goth is there, and his ears fall back hearing Swindle, Oh.. fun, more sickness.. Goth cringes and gets to work, hooking up the diagnostic machines. "Weren't you alright just the other solar-cycle? What did you get into?" he'd question as he made sure Vortex wasn't close enough to possibly catch such.
- Swindle has posed:
"Yeah, I bet some nanites they couldn't infect me, and they did anyway," Swindle jokes, "Seriously though whatever this is, it comes on fast. It's making me recycle my oil just trying to purge the blasted things. I think my internal microsanitizers are malfunctioning." He sighs and leans back.
- Vortex has posed:
Vortex backs away a bit but stays close enough to offer support. "ew. Want me to get you anything?" he asks.
- Goth has posed:
"lovely.." Goth says tartly and vents, watching the diagnostic outputs. "Well, this should pick up whatever it is.. bugs are quite annoying." He'd nod.
- Swindle has posed:
"How about a medical waste bucket next to my bed?" Swindle says, clearing his throat noisily, "I will need to ...dispose of things." He looks over at Goth. "The sooner this can get picked out and flushed out, the better. I think I'm even running a little warm. Maybe my internal temperature regulator is off too."
- Vortex has posed:
Vortex nods "I can do that." he says, running to get the bucket. Hes very helpful when it comes to his brothers.
- Swindle has posed:
Swindle begins coughing as Vortex goes in search of a bucket. Hopefully the bucket will make it to his bedside in time. He tries to suppress the cough, but it won't be supressed, and soon he's in full hacking mode.
- Goth has posed:
Goth hems. "Wouldn't surprise me, systems are likely attempting to burn the blasted thing out." He'd muse as Vortex gets a bed-pan, or, well, bed-bucket, for Swindle. "I'd suggest covering your mouth." He'd say with a tired vent, last thing /he/ wants is to get this.
- Swindle has posed:
Swindle hastily pulls an old oil rag out of subspace to do just as Goth suggests, a sizable lump of old thick feeling oil deposited therein as a result. He eagerly awaits Vortex's return with the bucket so he can deposit both rag and unmentionable grossness into it.
- Vortex has posed:
Vortex brings over the bucket and ooks away. "I hope thats not contageous..."
- Swindle has posed:
"I dunno if it's contagious but I had to have got it from somewhere," Swindle says, once he's disposed of the soiled oil cloth. "I think I need some hot energon to clean the vents out."
- Goth has posed:
"Obviously, it's not common for us to fall ill, so.." Goth would cringe. "This is more of Dustoff's area of expertise then mine, but I can see what I can do." He'd vent, before glancing to Vortex, grateful for his help at least.
- Vortex has posed:
Vortex grunts. "It could be aft scraplets." ...what? It could be.
- Goth has posed:
Goth just gives Vortex this.. Look, really? just... Really? Goth raised a ridge.
- Swindle has posed:
"Yeah, maybe the Autobots made some sort of biomech weapon, and this is it," Swindle says, "I don't think it's scraplets; I think I'd have my hull flaking off like crazy if it was."
- Vortex has posed:
Vortex blinks. "Well. It could be aft scraplets." he huffs. "I've heard of them. Maybe its a rust rash." why is he bringing up embarassing medical conditions.
- Goth has posed:
"Don't even joke about that." Goth would groan loudly as he moved to get a sample of the oil Swindle was spitting up to look under a microscope... He really did NOT want to deal with /another/ one of Pharmas lovely virals. "vortex..." He'd say dryly, loking over.
- Swindle has posed:
"No, if it was a rust rash, my skidplate would be itching. Nothing is itching. My vents feel clogged," Swindle says. He hacks a bit more, spewing another dark oily deposit into the medical waste bucket beside his bed.
- Vortex has posed:
Vortex nods "Could be the pharma plague.." he seems serious about that. "/Is/ it the Pharma plague?"
- Goth has posed:
"No, thinning plague doesn't have these symptoms." He'd quip as he kept looking in the microscope, and starting some tests.
- Swindle has posed:
After hacking up some more oily goop, Swindle sighs and leans back on the bed, among pillows. "I think I need an ethanol vent rinse," he murmurs, "We got any of those around here? To flush out the junk?"
- Goth has posed:
Goth hems and rolls his chair over, and gets into the cabinets, starting to rummage through them. "Positive dustoff has some around here."
- Swindle has posed:
"Oh, good," Swindle says, "Can't wait to swish out my vents with it. This is so disgusting." He seizes up in another spasm of coughing, knocking some pillows to the floor in the process.
- Goth has posed:
Goth would bring over the item and huffs. "You're telling me.. Well, can rest here, but I will need to bring the privacy current around to keep this from spreading." He'd explain... They had a quarantine, right? He'd look around, arms crossed.
- Swindle has posed:
"That's good," Swindle says, unleashing another round of disgusting oil into the medical waste bucket. He takes the item, applies it to his vents via his oral receptor, making sure to swish it around and 'gargle' a bit before spitting it out. Lather, rinse, repeat.
- Goth has posed:
Goth vents. "Till then, please keep your mouth covered." He'd reply, going to wash his own hands. "least now you have an excuse to be in here." he'd muse.
- Swindle has posed:
"Maybe I need one some kind of mask," Swindle says, "Maybe that'd keep the nanite spreading to a minimum." He rinses out his vents one more time, taking care to spew the resulting mix into the medical waste bucket, and for now his vents seem to have calmed somewhat so he can lean back and relax.