OPEN;

[neverknocks]

who. York and YOU!
what. for anyone who wants to talk to, see, or run into York since her injury
where. anywhere in Zeta District -- The Quad, York and Wash's apartment, somewhere in the markets, etc
when. anytime this week!
warnings. probably lots of feelings :(

It hasn't been a good week for York. It's the understatement of the century, really. The mission on Saturday with Garrus and North had gone so fantastically awful, she's still reeling from it a little. It's too fresh in her mind, still, even the admittedly blurry memory of the incendiary grenade going off in her face. Garrus and North had had to drag her out of there to the clinic, and she'd lost a good day to emergency surgery and recovery. And in the end, they'd botched the job. Nobody had even gotten paid.

Mordin had done his best, and honestly, considering the limited resources, he did a pretty damn good job. Especilaly for an alien. She wouldn't have figured a salarian could fix up a human face this nice. No, nice isn't the word for it. It doesn't look even close to nice. The wound is healing, but it's still fresh, an ugly red swath of skin around her left eye, pulling down her cheek. Even when it's bandaged, it's impossible to hide the way the damaged skin pulls unnaturally tight around her eye. And she can't hide the eye itself. Even once the skin heals -- if it even heals all the way -- her eye will still be that awful, milky white. She'll be lucky to get it back to fifty percent functionality, at this point. Last time this'd happened, she'd had UNSC medical facilities available to her; better equipment, more staff, more resources. Last time.

York's starting to feel like the butt of some cosmic joke.

It's bad enough to have a job go so fantastically wrong like this one did, to have her ass land in the hospital with such a severe injury. To have it become something permanently debilitating, to have to wear it like she does. It's bad enough that it hurts. But it's even worse that this has happened before.

The similarities are too eerie, so much they make her feel a little sick. She'd gotten the eye fixed back on Sacrosanct because she didn't want to be a liability. She wanted to be able to watch her own back, and without Delta, she couldn't do that, not with a busted eye. And now she's right back where she started -- worse, even -- and this time, she doesn't even have somebody else's Delta to understand. Maybe six months with a new eye and she'd gotten used to it. She'd gotten used to looking in the mirror and seeing the perfect symmetry of her face, to smoothing her hand over her left cheek and feeling only smooth, soft skin. She'd just gotten used to the delightful ease with which she could read and focus and see, with no headaches, no strain. She'd only just gotten comfortable with it. And what -- that's it? That's all she gets? Well, joke's on her for ever thinking things might be easy, for once.

But there's nothing York can do. She doesn't have Delta to help her compensate and Mordin's got the best care she can receive on the station on her paycheck. So York does what she does best -- she keeps moving forward, making like nothing's happened, because what's she gonna say, anyway? She goes back to work at The Quad as soon as she's able, because she can only stand to be laid up for so long and it's just her face, it's not like she can't walk, and her boss comments on her face in a way that's maybe supposed to be funny, but maybe she doesn't get krogan humor. She keeps going about her business, just like before, and she doesn't look in mirrors much anymore these days, but at least she's still moving.

Comments

[traitortwin]

She grins as York pours the shot. Of course, the first thing she notices is that it's really, really... green. But, she's had some other ridiculously colored drinks before in this place, so it doesn't throw her too much, just makes her snicker a bit. Besides, to be honest, she was almost expecting it to be pitch black or blood red. Especially after a build-up like that, now she's really interested to see what the big deal is. It can't be that bad, can it?

"Thanks, York." She flashes that grin of hers at the other woman, then picks up the glass and looks it over for another second while she asks, "Hey, how are you doing, anyway?"

[neverknocks]

"I've had better days," York says blandly. South had been trying not to stare at her face, and now she's going about her business like nothing's happened. Well, it is South. And she can't say she wants to talk about it with South. "You gonna drink that or just stare at it all night?"

[traitortwin]

"Yeah. I bet." She sighs, worries at her bottom lip. She kind of hates that she wants to say something about, you know, the situation, and yet doesn't really know how. When the fuck did she start caring?

"Look, you've probably heard it from someone else before? But whatever. It's good you're still around. We just have to stick together when shit goes down. Right?"

.... That could have come out a lot better. But whatever, it's out now! And just to keep her expression from showing how aggravated she is by her ridiculous word-failure, she takes that shot.

And good lord does that shot pack a hit! She can't keep from wrinkling her nose a bit and pulling a face like she just snorted rubbing alcohol.

[neverknocks]

Man, there's one thing York can say for South, and that's that she does have her bouts of unpredictability. She'd always suspected the South she'd known from her own universe had never liked her all that much, so this is a little surprising, at least. Then again...things are different here. They always are.

Still, York's relieved when South takes the shot and gives her an excuse to laugh, to ease the discomfort. And, okay, it's pretty. "Take it easy," she advises, her laughter fading. She scrubs at a spot on the bar with a rag, sucking on her front teeth in thought for a moment. "...And I appreciate the sentiment, but I wasn't plannin' on going anywhere, anyway."

[traitortwin]

South likes to think of her unpredictability as an advantage, so she'll always take it as a compliment. She's also more than aware of how different things are around here. It's weird what a complete change of scenery, responsibility and type of high-stress (because it's sure as hell high-stress, just not like back home) can do to anyone involved.

But that's yet another thing she doesn't like to actively think about. Too broody, or some shit like that.

"Better not," South mutters in response, though the corner of her mouth is still tilted just the slightest bit upward. She winces yet again, wondering just how long of an after-burn this shit has, and then scowls at the shot glass like it's personally offended her.

"Kinda hard to take a whole shot like that at once and take it easy," she admits, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't amused. She wanted a challenge, and she sure as hell got it. "So tell me again what the hell that was? Exactly?"

[neverknocks]

"Ryncol," York says, unable to suppress a grin. Okay, yeah, she's not in the greatest of moods and South isn't usually the kind of go-to person she'd think of for a pick-me-up, but somehow, this is lifting her mood a little. In a kind of morbid way. "Krogan liquor. Packs a real punch, that shit. Don't be surprised if you puke it up in a couple of minutes. Most humans do."