Umbrella Surveillance System
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Tabitha Tabitha stands behind a counter, sipping coffee and looking over printouts on charts.. She seems to be drifting from one spot to another, mainly attempting to keep herself busy and lend a hand where she can, but for now everything seems steady with few surprises. She's wearing blue hospital scrubs that look like they've been napped in at least once
Buck Rogers A wrecking ball man swings into the hospital's reception room. He's dressed in faded blue jeans and a pale wifebeater, both straining to contain the sheer volume of muscle that stretches his hairy, vein-laced skin tight. He's covered in superficial wounds-- minor cuts and scrapes here and there, and inkblot bruises that wrap from one side of his torso to the other like a straitjacket. He swings his arms with every step, shaking the earth, and draws to a halt in front of the front desk, leaning over to rap his knuckles against it. "Hey there, beautiful," he growls, flashing a smile. "I'm looking for Emma. O'Connor. Connal? The TerraSave girl. She's always here, where's she at?"
Tabitha Tabitha turns at the rap on the desk... well, she probably felt him approaching but figured it to be some huge truck rumbling by. What she thought was the wind blowing in through the door is just his breathing. Turning around, cup raised to her lips, the receptionist is sprayed with coffee as Tabitha spews in surprise.. Coughing.. "E-E-.." eyes like dinner plates behind her glasses.. "Emma's not here. I'm Covering for her. I can .. help....", moving around from behind the counter. As intimidating as the figure may be, her eyes move to the cuts, bruises and begins moving into Doctor mode because the rest of her mind is trying to hide under the blanket.
Buck Rogers Buck isn't an unfamiliar sight at the hospital, but it's uncommon enough that he doesn't recognize all the staff yet-- certainly not Tabitha, who earns herself a lingering leer by virtue of existing. The giant brute scans her from head-to-toe with the same unmasked hunger a lion watches a gazelle.. but then his mouth splits in a wide, sharp-toothed grin. "Hey, sweetheart," he greets, his eyes settling on hers. He has an uncommon intensity; he never seems to break eye contact first, he does not blink often, and just from his size there's a weight to his presence. It's not charisma, not really, but something more primal. "I wanted to give lil miss TerraSave a piece'a my mind. Real nasty thing they went and did. But if she's not here.. hell, whatever. I could probably use some stitches. Or an Aspirin. That big fuckin' thing hit like a truck." He has to be referring to the recent battle in the catacombs that TerraSave revealed footage of.. which would mean he was one of the soldiers down there. Possibly one of the ones killing civilians.
Tabitha Tabitha swallos dryly.. almost feeling the gaze up and down her form. She shifts a little nervously.. and really hasn't been 'looked at' in a very long time. "I'm Dr. Marshall.. Come over here..", motionging to an small triage area attached to the lobby. "have a seat", trying to be jovial. "Otherwise, I'll need a stool to do a decent exam. And no asprin for you. Tylenol. we dont need you bleeding any more than you are now."
Buck Rogers "Dr. Marshall," the man says, tasting the name. He scratches his surprisingly well-kept beard and muses over how it felt to shape those syllables, following along with heavy footfalls. "Buck Rogers." It's a name familiar to anyone aware of American culture or bio-terrorism-- a celebrity name tied to media appearances and the tell-all bestseller Raccoon City. When it comes to people who have popularized talking about the undead and viral apocalypses, he's on top of the food chain. "Haven't seen you around here before. You got awful lovely hair, I'd remember." He looks around, opts to drag over a chair, and slides it across the floor. With a pivot on his heel he sits and eases down into it, his seat creaking and groaning like old bones. It's a -very- tight fit for him. "And I'm not hearing a French accent. You American?"
Tabitha Tabitha is noticably flustered by the comment about her hair. As a nervous habit, she combs her fingers back through it to get it out of her face. Noticing the gesture, she shoves that hand in her pocket.. "Buck Rogers.. ", a bit of a glint behind her eyes. "You've been on TV.. I think I saw you on one of the sets in a patient's room. I just got here. sorta left in a hurry. and yep. I dont speak a lick of french. North Carolina. Land of Hushpuppies and fried seafood.", she begins looking at the assorted cuts, bruises.. "and vinegar-based bar-b-que. You.. fight things like that a lot?", she moves over to the sink to start washing her hands. "what happened?"
Buck Rogers Buck draws his shoulders back and tightens them. His spine arches back, his barrel chest pushes out, and, fists clenched, he pushes his elbows behind him. The movements make the top of his back crack and pop along with some sternal rib joints. Satisfied, he lets out a rumbling bass exhale, vibrating his bones. "I've been on TV a lot," he confirms, eye-fucking her ass as she turns to the sink to wash her hands. "Though less often since coming to Paris-- got a few other jobs going. Other than some commercials here and there, not much." He rolls his shoulders, presses his right hand to the left and squeezes while pushing in, alternates. From all the movements he makes, odds are he's physically sore, and just stretching and cracking whatever he can. "Pretty often, sweetheart. Think my body count's hoverin' around the two hundreds, now. An assorted mixture of zombies, monsters, mutants, and people." A new take on a killer smile.

"This? Ehh.. you seen those videos TerraSave helpd put out?"
Tabitha Tabitha dries her hands, oblivious to the leer until she turns around.. She blushes, puts on a pair of gloves and moves over. 'Yep. Bits and pieces. You were in that?", not asking which side. It looked messy, but she's used to messy and how things never look in real life how they do in pictures. she begins workin gon cleaning the wounds she can see. "Take your shirt off", and starts getting a few things together. MOstly steri-strips, bit of glue, and several handfulls of gauze pads. "I cant say I blame them for putting out the video either. Though, I dont even pretend to know what was really going down." She starts with saline. no alcohol.
Buck Rogers "I was in it," he confirms, curling thick fingers around the hem of his tanktop and drawing it up. He's a hairy bear of a man, that's for sure, and built enough to be called Mr. Olympia-- though judging by the thickness of his midsection, the general weightiness of him, and overall proportions of the muscle, it's raw strength and size more than professional sculpting. He still looks human, just.. big. And wounded, though none too awfully; with the shirt gone, the full extent of the midsection bruising can be seen, over his stomach and ribs, beneath his breasts, wrapping him like a towel. "Eh, fuck 'em. Worthless beatniks that talk about peace but don't do shit to bring it about. Good men and women died down there, and all TerraSave can do is spit poison. Half a mind to smack Emma upside her head. Whatever dumbass intern of hers put that out should be shit-canned."

As she cleans and tends to his wounds, the big man doesn't fidget or even wince. He's been hurt far, far worse before.
Tabitha Tabitha begins cleaning the wounds, using small strips to close up some of the wider ones. Stitches can tear out. Strips just pop off. Somehow 'taking it easy' doesn't seem to fit any kind advice mountain will follow. "I dunno", dabbing at a cut. "If they were shooting civilians, that's not really helping and protecting, is it?" She fingers along one bruised rib, fingertips 'walking' along the strong muscle over it. She thumps the heel of her hand along that broad back.. thump thump here.. thump thump there.. watching for signs of wincing.. secretly pondering of a ball-peen hammer would make him wince. "Seems we have enough monsters already without adding to it. Did you see what really happened?"
Buck Rogers "You're smart, right? Went to medical school." Buck's leveled his gaze at Tabitha as he speaks, watching as she dresses his minor injuries; they're mostly cosmetic, and he heals with an absurd speed, but even his prodigious constitution has limits that medical treatment can help. "You really think a bunch'a red-blooded heroes went underground to kill innocent people for no reason? We're talking about bio-terrorism here; viral weaponry. The civilians were dead men walking the moment James Marcus got his hands on them. Some of 'em were turning into monsters, some of 'em were infected, and the ones that weren't wouldn't listen to the quarantine." He snorts, and quiets as she begins to thump her hand along his back, brow furrowing. "It's not like I killed eleven people because I was mad at them. I did what was necessary, at any cost."
Tabitha Tabitha shakes her head. "I never said that.. things get confusing. mistakes could be made..", pausing in her thumping, to move around in front. "Are you saying some of those people were already infected? Like taking off a leg from the knee down just because a toe got gangrenous? Cant see the infection that high, but you cant risk losing the whole body. that's what was going on? ..Over-sterlization of the area? Aggressive quarantine procedures?"
Buck Rogers "It wasn't over-aggressive," Buck asserts with growled conviction. "You know how quick sickness spreads. Imagine a sickness that exists to spread itself, that wants to spread-- a sickness that hides itself under the skin until it's attacking a crowd and infecting everyone around it, who then do the same thing. You take no chances with that. Better all of them die in the dark than even one makes it to the surface and puts every God damn person here at risk." His hand's balled into a fist, arm folded over his lap, nails digging into the meat of his palm. "Yeah, it would have been better if no one had to die. But they were panicked. They wouldn't listen. And we had no way to tell time bomb from victim. You don't gamble with odds like that. You man up and kill them all."
Tabitha Tabitha pauses completely still.. her face going white. "oh.. gods.. that.. that must have been horrible. To know you're going to get innocents, and cant take the risk..", looking down at nothing in particular. after a moment she pulls herself together. "I guess it's no different than a disaster triage. Dont waste time on those that are dead already. Save the ones you can. Bit of extra morphine if you got it to help ease the poor souls off" She shakes her head, her voice a bit softer. "..you had to make that call, didn't you? And not the first time either..right?"
Buck Rogers "I lived through Raccoon," the man says, jaw clenched. The words are spit from between sealed teeth. "Best time of my life. An adrenaline high like you wouldn't believe-- it's better than fucking. But I know the cost. For that bit of fun.. " His fist uncurls. "For that bit of fun, pretty much everyone I knew died. The douchebag drug dealers, the lifetime cops, the grandmas and the grandpas and the little kids. That's the end of the world, doc-- and I don't mean that metaphorically. The ground splits, demons slip through the cracks, and every breath's all full'a brimstone." He inhales. "Sickness spreads fast. It isn't gangrene. It isn't cancer. It's fucking people whose skin sloughs off them and whose bodies weep with open sores, who twist and mutate and try to rip you apart. It's bloody-mouthed mothers ripping out the throat of the babe at her tit and eating it alive. Yeah, I made a call. And when everyone around me didn't have the balls to do it, I chased those poor bastards down and I killed them myself as they cried and cursed me."
Tabitha Tabitha puts a hand on Bucks shoulder. Yes, it's not exactly a 'clinical' touch, and the difference might be felt. NOthing really different other than.. well, it's just different.. "I'm sorry you had to make that call. I won't say i'm sorry you did it. I can't imagine what you've been through. Lordy, I dont know if I'd want to even try. But if you're fighting monsters and trying to keep the rest of us safe.. Thank you. You probably don't hear that often enough."
Buck Rogers Buck waves a hand dismissively and laughs; the girl can feel how the sound rocks his titanic frame and the bones of her hand. "Ah, fuck it," he decides, arm falling to his side. "What can I say? You're welcome. I know I made the right call-- even if folks hate me for it." He looks toward her and grins with a wink. "'tween you and me, though? Not many people know I was there. My combat gear's masked, keeps me anonymous. I feel bad for the F.B.C., but doesn't do much to me; I'm not one of them." A shoulder lifts in lazy shrug. "But don't thank me that much. I don't think an outbreak's the worst idea.. you ask me, humanity could use a few good crises. We're on the wrong course. But not in fuckin' Paris-- my pregnant girlfriend lives here."
Tabitha Tabitha 's eyes open wide, blinking.. "...her name wouldn't happen to be Celeste, would it? Teeny little goth thing?" She only half expects an answer, but Tab's not really been that big on coincidence lately, and is starting to have a newfound belief in Something.. if not the almighty, then a particular twisted form of Fate.
Buck Rogers "Sure is," he confirms with a follow-up chuckle. "Cute lil thing, all dolled up, tits out to here," and he holds a hand in front of his chest, mimicking Celeste's disproportionately ample bust. "Works with those TerraSave kids, too. But she's smarter than most of 'em. I'm just glad it keeps her out of trouble. You know her?"
Tabitha Tabitha blushes a bit, tugging her lab coat closed a little more after the 'gesture'.. "Met her earlier. She seems really sweet. Told her she needs to get an obstatrician. Make sure she gets checkups. Medical folks make the worst patients" She reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a wad of free Tylenol samples and offers them to Buck. "Dont take more than two every four hours, and not for longer than a day or two.. though, you could probably take three.."
Buck Rogers "She's sweet. Morbid and totally fucked in the head, but sweet." Buck grins and takes the Tylenol samples from Tabitha, slipping them into the pocket of his sweats. Once he's out of the hospital, he's going to march right back to his local apartment (his fancy properties are in America and the Caribbean), drink, and watch TV until he falls asleep. Maybe fool around a little, if Celeste's there at the time. "Good girl, though. Went a little fast, but what can I say-- I'm a sucker for curves. And I knocked her up, so." He shrugs, and says it in a way that suggests she's not the first. "What'd you say your name was, doc?"
Tabitha Tabitha smiles. If she hadn't seen the way Celeste talked of her boyfriend, she'd be a bit worried, but she can't help but think they make an absolutely lovely couple. "Marshall. Tabitha Marshall. I pretty-much live her for the time being. I work and they feed me and give me the latest in attractive pajamas. Tell Celeste I said Hi when you see her. and.. ", pausing for a second she rushes over and grabs a handfull of sterile gauze pads and a clean roll of tape, offering those as well. "Here. she should change those if they get wet. And if you have trouble breathing, get back her fast. You've had some contusions. You aren't gonna let me get an x-ray, so all I got to go is your own expertise and in getting tenderized."
Buck Rogers "I'll be fine," he insists, smiling with something resembling gentleness at Tabitha. "Injuries like this heal up awful fast for me; I really only stopped by to see if Emma was here. But I appreciate the concern, Tabitha. Thanks." He takes the tape and the offered gauze, and rising to his feet -- towering now over the woman -- slips them too into his pocket, his wifebeater slung uselessly over one massive shoulder. "If you'd seen some of the hits I've taken.." His fingers curl through the sworls of hair on his lower stomach, near his navel, and trace along the indent of his Apollo's belt. "Bitten," and his nails slide up above his stomach, and trace a faint bit of scar tissue that cuts up through his chest and terminates just below his throat, "cut open like a fish," and his hand widens, fingers stretching, to pat his broad chest, "had one of those, what do you call 'ems, the scars from lightning, when I got struck a month and a half ago," and his hand falls, "and that's ignoring the times I've been shot, stabbed, punched, kicked, tackled. Hell, you ever been tossed by a twelve-foot roid-raging mutant that's half machine, and landed beneath a sparking wire that zaps you? 'cuz I have."

He rolls his shoulders, lifts his left arm, and indicates for Tabitha to move. "Well, ladies first," he says-- and when she turns, he'll reach low to give her ass a slap. "Get goin', sweetheart. Bet you're busy."
Tabitha Tabitha seemed to forget just how big the man is.. She notices the scar, and mental images tell her just how bad it probably looked. Other little scars, marks, etc sorta jump to her attention, having been missed when she was too busy trying to count the fresh ones.. She steps back, moving to the door, jumping at the smack ass.. and the size lingers in a sting on her flesh.. "I- Uh-Yes.. Yes..", and leaves the triage area. she moves to the relative safety of the other side of the counter in the lobby outside