[ she slips into the room easily, flashing him a smile both polite and familiar, just in case any passers-by or curious eyes would think this could be anything more than a friendly visit. while she's come to find the people of this station far more willing to be open than most, there's still something to be said about privacy, and the fact kovacs had reached out to her personally is a gesture of trust she's not willing to risk ruining. like how she easily waves off his gratitude, but doesn't sully it by saying it's all part of her job.
when he turns to give her a look at what she'll be working with, she finds herself more curious than surprised. a cut that long at that level, seemingly as deep as it is... it's certainly nothing you get by accident. ]
So. [ she moves further into the room so she can set her bag down, trusting he'll follow suit as she begins to pull out her tools. ] Do you want the good news or the bad news first?
[ he might have his occasional reluctance with trust, but kovacs tends to think himself a good judge of character, considering his own talent in perceiving details, in getting a decent enough read of a person when meeting them. marta seems genuine enough (someone who's first impulsive thought is to ask about the loneliness of stars seems like they would be), so in trusting her for her discretion and care in this seems easy enough to do.
at least she isn't immediately scolding him for getting himself hurt, something he knows would have been the case if he'd reached out to someone else about this, and why it seemed easier than taking his injury out to the public eye. ]
Not really the sensitive type. You could give it to me straight. Promise not to cry.
[ there's some audible snark in his voice, even a huffing breath with the smirk he gives to himself as he watches her get settled with her bag. figuring she's going to inevitably need the access, he grips the bottom hem of his shirt to give it a careful upward tug over his head. aside from the fresh bleeding wound at his back, there's a collection of plenty of older scars scattered around his skin, along the expanse of his back, more to match at his chest, and even down his arms, some marred lines old enough to have been there enough long before he'd been placed in this body. ]
[ the movement catches her eye, drawing her attention away from the nitrile gloves she'd just been pulling on. her professional brain switches on first, taking note of how he moves, though she knows better than to think the ease of it could directly correlate to the severity of the wound. from the looks of things, he's used to getting hurt, and that is far more likely to be the reason for his nonchalance here.
(her personal brain switches on next, but we won't talk about what that one notices. or lingers on to stare at.)
before too long, she forces her gaze back down to her work, carefully spreading her items out for ease of use. ]
Well, the bad news is that shirt's a goner. Sorry if you really liked it.
[ all that blood on that kind of material? she doubts it would make off without a stain without some major magic at work β perhaps literally too. ]
[ how many shirts has he lost already? in his defense, he hasn't had an injury this severe since his time leaving braccia, when a face-to-face confrontation with cheri left him nearly cut to ribbons and adorned with broken bones, and those clothes had only really been on loan. at least he's been lucky enough to keep his coat in decent enough condition; he likes that coat.
he bundles the bloody fabric up, tossing it to the side before turning back to her, almost impressed at how prepared she is with her tools, making him realize just how long it's been since he's actually been looked over by an actual professional. ]
No, you don't need to waste it. [ if it stings and aches for him, he's probably dealt with worse.
settling himself down on the bed, he turns his body to one side to where she'd have better access to the wound, taking a deep breath with a sigh. less nerves, more just tired. ]
You already been keeping busy with work like this on here?
[ she hadn't figured he'd have a need for the anesthesia, but she's glad she asked anyway. the bottle replaced, she takes her spot just behind him with one steadying knee on the bed. he's tall enough she doesn't have to hunch, which is good as the first order of business is to clean up the mess the cut has left behind. seeing it now, she can sense it isn't a particularly fresh one, but rather something that had just reopened recently. ]
Most people in the infirmary right now are there for exhaustion, or something more internal. Apart from monitoring them, making sure they get their liquids and nutrients, there's not much else to do but wait. So I read to them, sometimes. Let them know even when they sleep that someone's around.
[ she starts the first stitch, carefully working the needle through his skin, quick but efficient. even as a hint of wryness colors her tone, her work remains immaculate. ]
But wounds like this? Punctures, lacerations... you're my first. Congrats.
Hmm, well, color me lucky. With my track record, I'll probably be your second, too.
[ since he does have a terribly bad habit of getting himself into trouble, breaking into new skin every time he gets himself thrown into a fight, a violent or amicable one, it seems. the curse of his own recklessness, and the kind of things that comes from someone who's tried to keep himself separated from whatever body he wears.
in listening to her, he comes to hear the familiarity of her accent, realizing how he's reminded of kristin. at least in her quieter moments, since that's where the similarities end; kristin's a rough one, all bark and bite, knuckles always as bloody as his own, as threatening in her hollers of endless spanish swears as she is in an actual fight. even when she'd done something like this for him, tending to a wound, he could feel the calloused grit of her fingertips, the kind of roughness found in anyone working law enforcement.
but marta's hands have the care of someone who's kept them tended to for something like this, made to treat, made to heal; even with the blood at his back, there's gentleness in the details.
he breathes steadily as she works, only giving the most subtle quiet hiss at the first press of the needle, calm through the rest. ]
Most people wouldn't think to do that β reading to them, sticking around. Even people in your line of work. Usually just see them patch things up, take their money, and go.
[ yeah, there's humor there, but beneath that is a tinge of concern she doesn't even bother to hide. (not that she would be very good at it to begin with.) by now she's heard enough of their past missions that she can no longer easily downplay the value of having more people with medical skills in the team (namely, herself) but on that same vein she's also heard enough about their motley crew to realize not every injury is born out of necessity... but rather just plain recklessness.
then again, idle hands and idle minds... perhaps it's more a case of cabin fever than a disregard for one's health.
or maybe it's all of the above. and isn't that a worrying thought. ]
They must pay your nurses well where you're from. If it was really about the money, I would have tried to be a doctor instead.
[ not that it's that easy. not that it's that simple. but she drops the veil of faint sarcasm to grow a little quieter. thinking of their first conversation β of lonely stars, and doing what you feel is worth it. ]
I think, if I were in that bed, and I had to keep waking up to an empty room... it would be a lot harder for me to want to open my eyes the next time.
[ maybe that's why he felt more inclined to trust her for this sort of thing than he might have with some other kind of medic. it isn't as if he's concerned about someone's ability in treating him, especially when he tends to half-ass the job when he does it on himself, but it's natural to feel more drawn to someone you know is doing something with a sense of selflessness to it.
he thinks of barging into that hospital with kristin bleeding in his arms, the way everyone spoke to him like they were selling cars. ]
I ... carried in someone who was wounded pretty bad, going in and out β nearly lost her. Nurse wouldn't even look at her until there was a guarantee of the payment going through.
[ kristin didn't have the money to cover the accident. if it weren't for his being on bancroft's payroll at the time, he knows she would have died.
but he listens to marta, to talk of the empty room, to the number of them that he's woken up in, to being the one to sit at someone else's bedside, to vernon's words of "you're the person who's here. so you stay." and he understands it, to needing someone to just be there. ]
Maybe that's ... why we were all picked. [ it's the question that's been asked a number of times since he's been here, by himself, by others, by marta herself, and he's never had an answer. his voice is quiet and he's glad he's faced away from her. ] We're the people in the empty rooms. So they put us all together to ... fill the empty space.
[ without realizing, marta has begun sewing to the cadences of kovacs' words. so when he pauses, when his breath catches on a word, so too do her hands stop and start, as if she were quite literally hanging on his every word.
there's something about what he's telling her that breaks up the normal methodic rhythm of her actions. a confession that doesn't reveal much, other than the quiet understanding that he can say what he wants. so he does. ]
...I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened to either of you.
[ she wishes she could say it would have been different, had he carried his friend into a hospital in her own world. but marta knows not everyone can disregard the rules in a moment like that. funny, how even stretched across vastly different existences, people can still be so very much the same. ]
I like that. [ empty rooms and empty hearts. stars so far apart that even in their infinite brightness they could grow lonely. why not fill a room β a station, a universe β with the ones who need another the most? ] Everyone's here for their own reason... but maybe that doesn't mean we have to face it all alone.
[ he can tell that if it had been marta in that hospital, she'd likely have tried what she could for them, regardless of the money. the way she talks to him now, the way she treats him, fingers moving with grace and care as she stitches him up, she seems to be one of the rare good ones, and he hopes that gets preserved, that whatever she's made to be put through, she doesn't lose it. most people usually do.
but there's an uncommon sense of hope in their shared words, his own out of his mouth before he can really consider the rare kind of optimism enveloped in the sentiment. a few months ago, he'd probably not have said anything close to it.
he huffs an amused breath through his nose, the act prompting a shift in his muscles, visible from his back. ]
Some of us are still more deserving of the company than others probably. [ it's less of a judgment on anyone else in this station and more on himself, knowing he's too dirty to be in the same category as someone like marta.
a pause before he continues, this time with the subtle smirk heard in his voice. ] And some of us are are just reckless asshole patients you gotta put up with.
You'll have to tell me which ones are the assholes. I haven't met any yet.
[ two meetings in and she's already calling his bluff. a bold move on her part, and maybe she really ought to know better by now, but marta's operated too long on defaulting to giving others the benefit of the doubt that not even a sudden teleportation into space will stop her. if she started every encounter with suspicion, her trust wouldn't be the only collateral. at least this way, if she's wrong, the only one getting hurt is herself.
besides... who is she to judge? the very nature of the orbs and these deals means they've all got something they'd like to clean up, a mark on their ledger for which they've decided they'd rather risk it all to erase than let it remain. is anyone's hands truly clean? is anyone here really clear of conscious? ]
There β all done.
[ true to her word, she finishes in no time at all. stitches neat and orderly, made with the kind of care her professors would either praise her for, or chide her for sparing the time. it's only a few minutes more for her to further clean up the site and cover the area with a bandage and gauze. the rest get thrown into a medical waste bag she'd brought along, and all that gets tossed back into her bag, slung over her shoulder.
she shifts back, lets the feeling settle back into the leg she'd been leaning all her weight on. leveling his profile with a look, she ventures: ] Will it make any difference if I asked you to be careful?
[ with his face turned away from her, he can give a slight roll of his eyes, paired with an almost humorless chuckle, since apparently it seems she's going to be joining in league with some of the other women on this station who seem insistent that he isn't as bad as he makes himself seem. not that vocalizing it with honesty ever seems to make much of a difference. maybe they just have to learn the hard way that he's exactly as disastrous as it says on the tin.
but he's not going to get on her case about that now while she's doing him a favor, figuring he could at least spare her from the lecture about his personal demons (which seems to be an ongoing trend every time he has one of those aforementioned women in his bedroom, paired with their stubborn insistence of their more positive expectations from him).
she tends to the wound far more than he would have if he'd been able to reach it, only slightly close to saying something about not bothering with the actual bandaging before he decides against it.
when she straightens up, he gives his own back a light stretch, just to feel the difference of a stitched up wound compared to an open bleeding one. ]
Probably not. [ he looks at her with a smirk, honest with his answer, before he stands, turning to her. ] I'll at least try to behave enough so that your hard work on this one doesn't go to waste.
[ she likes to think her work would warrant at least that much care, but it's not like she'll make a habit of holding her breath about it. after everything she's heard about the people on this station (both by those making the messes and the ones having to clean them up) marta can only assume that kind of self-preservation is an uncommon trait.
and given the generous smattering of scars all over kovacs' bared skin, he's likely one of the worst of them. ]
That'll have to be good enough for me, [ she sighs, resigned. checking to make sure she's got everything, she assumes her welcome has met its end and sees herself to the door. there, she gives him one last glance, one last reminder: ]
[ he can at least ease up on the intense training for a little while, even if these days it's mostly to give himself something to keep him busy, feeling a bit on edge at times while he isn't too certain what to do with himself while trapped in a space without a mission in mind, without a purpose to keep him moving. honestly, if he's not fighting, he might as well be sleeping, which is ultimately going to be for the best for both his exhaustion and the wound he promises to keep from opening again.
reaching for a fresher clean shirt, he slips it on over his shoulders, fingers slowly closing up the buttons as he watches her walk towards the door. ]
I'll avoid the house call next time too. [ not that it's bothered him having her here, but he imagines she'd probably be more comfortable in her own territory.
watching her for a moment, he sighs, honest when he adds, ] Thanks for this.
[ it doesn't much matter to her where she works; from clinics in cuba to hospitals in massachusetts and eventually the thrombey estate, she's grown quite adept at adapting, doing what she can with what she has. but it doesn't seem necessary to clarify, so she merely nods in acknowledgment before making that turn to leaveβ
it's the sincerity in his voice that draws her back, prompts a faint smile on her lips. ]
Of course.
[ and, in case he makes the mistake of thinking this were anything close to an inconvenience, she adds: ]
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no subject
when he turns to give her a look at what she'll be working with, she finds herself more curious than surprised. a cut that long at that level, seemingly as deep as it is... it's certainly nothing you get by accident. ]
So. [ she moves further into the room so she can set her bag down, trusting he'll follow suit as she begins to pull out her tools. ] Do you want the good news or the bad news first?
no subject
at least she isn't immediately scolding him for getting himself hurt, something he knows would have been the case if he'd reached out to someone else about this, and why it seemed easier than taking his injury out to the public eye. ]
Not really the sensitive type. You could give it to me straight. Promise not to cry.
[ there's some audible snark in his voice, even a huffing breath with the smirk he gives to himself as he watches her get settled with her bag. figuring she's going to inevitably need the access, he grips the bottom hem of his shirt to give it a careful upward tug over his head. aside from the fresh bleeding wound at his back, there's a collection of plenty of older scars scattered around his skin, along the expanse of his back, more to match at his chest, and even down his arms, some marred lines old enough to have been there enough long before he'd been placed in this body. ]
no subject
(her personal brain switches on next, but we won't talk about what that one notices. or lingers on to stare at.)
before too long, she forces her gaze back down to her work, carefully spreading her items out for ease of use. ]
Well, the bad news is that shirt's a goner. Sorry if you really liked it.
[ all that blood on that kind of material? she doubts it would make off without a stain without some major magic at work β perhaps literally too. ]
But the good news is I'll be done in ten minutes.
[ she holds up a small bottle, brows lifting. ]
Do you need anesthesia?
no subject
[ how many shirts has he lost already? in his defense, he hasn't had an injury this severe since his time leaving braccia, when a face-to-face confrontation with cheri left him nearly cut to ribbons and adorned with broken bones, and those clothes had only really been on loan. at least he's been lucky enough to keep his coat in decent enough condition; he likes that coat.
he bundles the bloody fabric up, tossing it to the side before turning back to her, almost impressed at how prepared she is with her tools, making him realize just how long it's been since he's actually been looked over by an actual professional. ]
No, you don't need to waste it. [ if it stings and aches for him, he's probably dealt with worse.
settling himself down on the bed, he turns his body to one side to where she'd have better access to the wound, taking a deep breath with a sigh. less nerves, more just tired. ]
You already been keeping busy with work like this on here?
no subject
Most people in the infirmary right now are there for exhaustion, or something more internal. Apart from monitoring them, making sure they get their liquids and nutrients, there's not much else to do but wait. So I read to them, sometimes. Let them know even when they sleep that someone's around.
[ she starts the first stitch, carefully working the needle through his skin, quick but efficient. even as a hint of wryness colors her tone, her work remains immaculate. ]
But wounds like this? Punctures, lacerations... you're my first. Congrats.
no subject
[ since he does have a terribly bad habit of getting himself into trouble, breaking into new skin every time he gets himself thrown into a fight, a violent or amicable one, it seems. the curse of his own recklessness, and the kind of things that comes from someone who's tried to keep himself separated from whatever body he wears.
in listening to her, he comes to hear the familiarity of her accent, realizing how he's reminded of kristin. at least in her quieter moments, since that's where the similarities end; kristin's a rough one, all bark and bite, knuckles always as bloody as his own, as threatening in her hollers of endless spanish swears as she is in an actual fight. even when she'd done something like this for him, tending to a wound, he could feel the calloused grit of her fingertips, the kind of roughness found in anyone working law enforcement.
but marta's hands have the care of someone who's kept them tended to for something like this, made to treat, made to heal; even with the blood at his back, there's gentleness in the details.
he breathes steadily as she works, only giving the most subtle quiet hiss at the first press of the needle, calm through the rest. ]
Most people wouldn't think to do that β reading to them, sticking around. Even people in your line of work. Usually just see them patch things up, take their money, and go.
no subject
[ yeah, there's humor there, but beneath that is a tinge of concern she doesn't even bother to hide. (not that she would be very good at it to begin with.) by now she's heard enough of their past missions that she can no longer easily downplay the value of having more people with medical skills in the team (namely, herself) but on that same vein she's also heard enough about their motley crew to realize not every injury is born out of necessity... but rather just plain recklessness.
then again, idle hands and idle minds... perhaps it's more a case of cabin fever than a disregard for one's health.
or maybe it's all of the above. and isn't that a worrying thought. ]
They must pay your nurses well where you're from. If it was really about the money, I would have tried to be a doctor instead.
[ not that it's that easy. not that it's that simple. but she drops the veil of faint sarcasm to grow a little quieter. thinking of their first conversation β of lonely stars, and doing what you feel is worth it. ]
I think, if I were in that bed, and I had to keep waking up to an empty room... it would be a lot harder for me to want to open my eyes the next time.
no subject
he thinks of barging into that hospital with kristin bleeding in his arms, the way everyone spoke to him like they were selling cars. ]
I ... carried in someone who was wounded pretty bad, going in and out β nearly lost her. Nurse wouldn't even look at her until there was a guarantee of the payment going through.
[ kristin didn't have the money to cover the accident. if it weren't for his being on bancroft's payroll at the time, he knows she would have died.
but he listens to marta, to talk of the empty room, to the number of them that he's woken up in, to being the one to sit at someone else's bedside, to vernon's words of "you're the person who's here. so you stay." and he understands it, to needing someone to just be there. ]
Maybe that's ... why we were all picked. [ it's the question that's been asked a number of times since he's been here, by himself, by others, by marta herself, and he's never had an answer. his voice is quiet and he's glad he's faced away from her. ] We're the people in the empty rooms. So they put us all together to ... fill the empty space.
no subject
there's something about what he's telling her that breaks up the normal methodic rhythm of her actions. a confession that doesn't reveal much, other than the quiet understanding that he can say what he wants. so he does. ]
...I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened to either of you.
[ she wishes she could say it would have been different, had he carried his friend into a hospital in her own world. but marta knows not everyone can disregard the rules in a moment like that. funny, how even stretched across vastly different existences, people can still be so very much the same. ]
I like that. [ empty rooms and empty hearts. stars so far apart that even in their infinite brightness they could grow lonely. why not fill a room β a station, a universe β with the ones who need another the most? ] Everyone's here for their own reason... but maybe that doesn't mean we have to face it all alone.
[ at the very least, it's a nice thought. ]
no subject
but there's an uncommon sense of hope in their shared words, his own out of his mouth before he can really consider the rare kind of optimism enveloped in the sentiment. a few months ago, he'd probably not have said anything close to it.
he huffs an amused breath through his nose, the act prompting a shift in his muscles, visible from his back. ]
Some of us are still more deserving of the company than others probably. [ it's less of a judgment on anyone else in this station and more on himself, knowing he's too dirty to be in the same category as someone like marta.
a pause before he continues, this time with the subtle smirk heard in his voice. ] And some of us are are just reckless asshole patients you gotta put up with.
no subject
[ two meetings in and she's already calling his bluff. a bold move on her part, and maybe she really ought to know better by now, but marta's operated too long on defaulting to giving others the benefit of the doubt that not even a sudden teleportation into space will stop her. if she started every encounter with suspicion, her trust wouldn't be the only collateral. at least this way, if she's wrong, the only one getting hurt is herself.
besides... who is she to judge? the very nature of the orbs and these deals means they've all got something they'd like to clean up, a mark on their ledger for which they've decided they'd rather risk it all to erase than let it remain. is anyone's hands truly clean? is anyone here really clear of conscious? ]
There β all done.
[ true to her word, she finishes in no time at all. stitches neat and orderly, made with the kind of care her professors would either praise her for, or chide her for sparing the time. it's only a few minutes more for her to further clean up the site and cover the area with a bandage and gauze. the rest get thrown into a medical waste bag she'd brought along, and all that gets tossed back into her bag, slung over her shoulder.
she shifts back, lets the feeling settle back into the leg she'd been leaning all her weight on. leveling his profile with a look, she ventures: ] Will it make any difference if I asked you to be careful?
no subject
but he's not going to get on her case about that now while she's doing him a favor, figuring he could at least spare her from the lecture about his personal demons (which seems to be an ongoing trend every time he has one of those aforementioned women in his bedroom, paired with their stubborn insistence of their more positive expectations from him).
she tends to the wound far more than he would have if he'd been able to reach it, only slightly close to saying something about not bothering with the actual bandaging before he decides against it.
when she straightens up, he gives his own back a light stretch, just to feel the difference of a stitched up wound compared to an open bleeding one. ]
Probably not. [ he looks at her with a smirk, honest with his answer, before he stands, turning to her. ] I'll at least try to behave enough so that your hard work on this one doesn't go to waste.
no subject
and given the generous smattering of scars all over kovacs' bared skin, he's likely one of the worst of them. ]
That'll have to be good enough for me, [ she sighs, resigned. checking to make sure she's got everything, she assumes her welcome has met its end and sees herself to the door. there, she gives him one last glance, one last reminder: ]
You know where to find me anyway.
no subject
reaching for a fresher clean shirt, he slips it on over his shoulders, fingers slowly closing up the buttons as he watches her walk towards the door. ]
I'll avoid the house call next time too. [ not that it's bothered him having her here, but he imagines she'd probably be more comfortable in her own territory.
watching her for a moment, he sighs, honest when he adds, ] Thanks for this.
no subject
it's the sincerity in his voice that draws her back, prompts a faint smile on her lips. ]
Of course.
[ and, in case he makes the mistake of thinking this were anything close to an inconvenience, she adds: ]
I'm glad you called.