It's All About Fitting In...

Rpg:
======================================================================
Who: Trisees, Ruffians.
When: Trisees returning from Parrots.
Where: Medibay, though I don't know why.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Trisees walked back into the area he liked to refer to as the 'Bane
Of His Newfound Life' and sat down at his desk. He sighed, a long
drawn out sigh, and glared at everyone at work.
"Where's Charles?" he eventually asked, after he'd felt everyone
had been scowled at enough.
"Keto's gone in search of the Big Pink Tree in the diesel decks,"
informed Coffey, picking up a syringe and administering an injection
in a crew member's arm. She tapped the needle a few more times, then
put it on the side, where a silent Wildflower was preparing and
cleaning instruments.
"Damn. I wanted someone to help me throw heavy things from the
Promenade's monorail train," said Trisees.
"I hope you were kidding," said Coffey, looking up from the
patient, who's expression had changed from pain to shock.
"It's one of my favourite pastimes," explained Trisees. "And
anyway, why are you complaining? It'd give you something to do."
"Well, to be honest Trisees, treating people for impact wounds
isn't exactly what I'd call 'a good use of my time,'" said Coffey,
angrily.
"And sitting here doing sod all, is I suppose?" asked Trisees.
"I do not do 'sod all'!" exclaimed Coffey.
"Of course not, Coffey. That's why, this morning when I walked
into this place, you weren't reading a magazine called 'The Fashion
Of Hairstyles,' you were actually treating somone. And yesterday,
you were obviously cataloguing the vials index, NOT talking inanely
to Wildflower about your beloved Shakespeare. And the day before
that, you were, I suppose, up to serious medibay business when you
gave Wildflower that haircut?"
Coffey was silent and she looked away.
Trisees laughed coldly at this, whilst Wildlfower looked at him
angrily.
"Just as I thought," he said.
'I wish William was here,' thought Coffey, wiping away a tear.
Trisees walked into Keto's office and picked up the scraps of metal
and wires and cogs. He smiled thoughtfully and picked up the small
list of equipment needed. Going through each name on the list caused
Trisees to laugh.
"Isn't there anything to make that's a challenge?" he asked to no
one. He picked up the pieces and moved them over to what was once
Shakespeare's desk, before dumping them in a heap on the top.
"You will clear that up when finished?" asked Coffey, moving the
anethetised Paintent into a sitting position and removing a pair of
scissors and a comb from her back pocket. "This is a medibay after
all." She opened the scissors and began to trim the hair of the
patient, making it stream downwards, whilst picking it up at the
front.
"Of course, I just want to make things, like the scientist I am. I
have to stay here though, don't I? Captain has made you my
babysitter. Why on earth do I need a babysitter?"
"Mphm!" Wildflower shouted from underneath the bandages.
Trisees laughed.
"You had it coming to you. Face it, better me smack you than
Keto," he said.
There was a nasty sounding mphm, followed by Wildflower sticking
her middle finger up.
Trisees smiled sourly.
"I'll break that too if you like," he said.
Wildflower scowled, lowered the finger and passed Coffey the blue
hair dye.
Trisees had been sorting the junk on the table for the last half
hour, into four piles:
a) working,
b) half working,
c) fixable, and
d) Stuff to fling at Wildflower and Coffey.
He grinned as another sizzled transistor flew in the air and hit
Wildflower on the side of her head. She looked around to see Trisees
hard at work sorting.
The sorting now done, Trisees was focussing all the attention he
had into remembering all the components needed for each piece of
medibay technology. He sighed with the entry of an unknown, and
seemingly annoyed man, shouting at the insipid nurse Chrysler, who up
until now, had been indexing the ointments of destruction in cupboard
twelve.
Trisees glowered as they began shouting about some personal ship
being taken apart. He didn't care, it wasn't the time nor the place
to discuss such petty problems. After the unknown man shouted at
Chrysler, Trisees lost it.
"WILL YOU TWO STOP THAT PATHETIC CHILDLIKE BICKERING?!" he yelled
at the irritating duo. "SOME OF US, NAMLEY ME, HAVE IMPORTANT THINGS
TO DO THAN LISTEN TO TWO ADULTS ACT LIKE 5 YEAR OLD CHILDREN MOANING
OVER THE POSSESION OF A TOY!"
The unknown man turned smartly on his heel, utterring the
words "Listen Buddy," before ceasing. He looked at Trisees for a
second, his lips twitching into a grin as he looked at Trisees hair.
"Oh, it's you. Hi Will," he said, before turning back to look at
Chrysler.
"Problem with my hair?" asked Trisees, glaring again.
"Sorry?" asked the unknown man, turning around once more.
"I asked, do you have a problem with my hair? The snigger gave it
away," said Trisees, folding his arms, this frown becoming more
pronounced.
"Calm down Shakes, I'm sorry," said the unknown man, raising his
hands apologetically.
"What did you call me?" asked Trisees in a low voice. He was sick
and tired of being called any derivation of the name Shakespeare. It
sickened him to his very core.
The unknown man now wore a new expression, one of puzzlement.
"Say, why aren't you speaking olde English?" he asked.
"Because for the simple reason that I'M NOT SHAKESPEARE!! AND IF
YOU EVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN, I WILL PERSONALLY DISEMBOWEL YOU WITH A
DULLED AND BLUNT OBJECT! COMPRHEND?!" screamed Trisees, suddenly
rising to his feet and staring, wide eyed at the unknown man.
There was a nod from the man, who then turned to Chrysler again.
"We'll continue this later Vanessa," he said, before hurrying out
of the medibay.
Trisees sat back down.
"Well done, nice way to treat Jay Chrysler," said Coffey.
"My heart bleeds," said Trisees, looking back down at his
components. "And so will yours if you don't get off my case."
Trisees sat in the medibay, alone now, finishing off the final
sorting of his parts for the last Calcimated Dispersion Rindenizer.
He was savouting the fact that the other medibay occupants had
trundled off to Parrots for an hour, which left him some peace and
quiet.
There was a knock on the door and Trisees looked up from his work.
"Go away," he shouted.
There was another knock.
"There's no doctor here," he called back.
A third knock caused Trisees to stand up.
"Look, come back in half an hour! I don't care how bad it is, you
can wait!" he sat down again and waited. Silence. He picked up the
smallest transistor and stared at it's tip. There was a knock, and
Trisees threw the transistor down in a huff, hurriedly got to his
feet and marched over to the medibay doors, hitting the open button
with all his might.
"Get lost woman!" he shouted at the obviously drunken woman.
"Hi Sssshhhakssspere," came the slurred speech of the woman who was
now using him for a leaning post. "Niccce hairrr!"
As the drunken girl took another gulp from her bottle, Trisees
growled loudly and took firm grasp of the woman's neck, before
forcing her aginst the wall. He looked at her and shook his head.
"I am not Shakespeare," he said through gritted teeth.
"Don't be ssssilly. You've all wayss beenn Sssshhhakssssey," she
said happily. Trisees growled much louder and threw the woman to the
ground. She went over and spilled down onto the floor. As she lay
there, Trisees heard her say:
"Well I'm here now. Wonder how I got back?"
Trisees looked at his desk and, leaving the drunken and prone woman
where she lay, strolled out of the medibay to the engineering
department. He needed tools, tools that did manual labour type
actions, not diagnosing patients type actions.
Minutes passed and then Trisees entered main Engineering where a
female engineer sat at one of the workstations eating an apple.
"I'm Trisees. I need things," he said.
"Who, and what the hell kind of request is that?" replied the
female, looking up at Trisees.
"My name is Larry Trisees, I'm a scientist. i need equipment which
I know you have an abundance of in this sorry excuse for a
department."
"Well I am Katy Roskev, engineer, and you're not getting any of the
equipment in this sorry excuse for a department."
"Why not?" asked Trisees, annoyed.
"Insult my work area, you insult me," Roskev replied.
Trisees sighed.
"Fine. Sorry. Now can I have stuff?"
"Not yet. You say you're a scientist? Well, I need a scientist to
help me with a machine I'm building."
Trisees sighed.
"What is it you want fixed/amended?" he asked.
<Roskev - It's Your Turn>
----------------------------------------------------------------------