twenty-seven ♢ video

[versusnurture]

[The video cuts on with Abigail ever-so-dubiously holding the camera, selfie-style. A wave. Hello, Barge, someone's here with bad news.]

So, um. I feel like we should really have a pre-formatted broadcast about this ready, a kind of fill-in-the-blanks-here style thing, but, well . . .

[She pans the camera back, revealing that she's in the clinic, and directs it towards Scott. Who is asleep halfway out of a kennel, his head resting against the bars. He's drooling a little. Some cute puppy snores are happening, too.]

I need help getting Scott to the infirmary. Or, you know, wherever you people want him.

Comments

[videocamera]

[Well. That's sort of creepy, coming in the wake of his own coma.]

...God, I hope I didn't drool on anyone.

[Normally he might not say anything but he's still weirded out about having just been dead to the world for weeks and it makes him want to talk to people. Like proving he still exists or something.]

[versusnurture]

I don't know. I didn't visit you.

[Mean? Maybe. But she didn't, and she doesn't know, and she doesn't feel like lying is going to change those things any.]

Everybody needs to just cut it out, though.

[videocamera]

[Hey, don't worry, he didn't really expect she would have. Why would she? They're not close, even if they have things in common.]

Tell that to the ship. Or the Admiral. Or whatever weird thing makes it happen. It's not like people choose it.

[versusnurture]

Fine, maybe I will.

[She said pointlessly. All in a huff:] At least you're up.