OTA | recovering from a pitfall (and being stuck with you-know-who)

[theroadwarrior]

Who: Max Rockantansky and you!
Broadcast: N/A; action only
Action: Just a quick Starstruck log for Max!
When: April 1st  and the few days after that.

Max eventually gets back to the Starstruck after his tumble into the mines -- and Beverly's hesitantly accepted medical assistance.  But his brace is broken and he's been put on... temporary bedrest. Sort of. Kind of. Look, he has at least agreed to use the crutch until he could get his brace back in order, okay? And yes, Beverly will probably have follow-ups for his leg. He's not willing at all to do anything invasive with it, but... he's listening. More than he has before. There's a plus, right there, to having spent two days down in a toxic mine shaft with no mask and a gimp leg. He sleeps a little bit, but even after all that's happened, he's restless and quick to get back up on his feet.

He hadn't let anyone treat his other injuries, but they were much more minor. His the forehead gash under a bandage needs to be stitched. He's got bruises the size of fists on his torso from his miserable tumbling. And goddamn, he is tired. He stops by in the bathroom of the Starstruck and slowly pulls off his shirt with a pained grunt, revealing the sad patchwork of scrapes and purple mottled shapes. Ramse had been nice enough to get him heat pads -- he's slowly administering them to his shoulders and ribs. He can't reach the marks on his back, intermingled with black ink, but it's a start.

Once he treats himself (or potentially gets help, because lbr, he's sick as a dog), he's quick to hobble himself into the cargo bay despite said nausea and spreads out a collection of scrap metal, bolts, straps, and welding equipment. He can be found repairing his knee brace there with Rock under his leg, propped up on the dog's shoulder blades as Rock slumbers. He looks tired as hell, but at least he's not going off all over the planet like he had at the ice one. 

Apparently he's pretty good with a welding gun; the end result is something a bit like this, mish-mashed between Tadashi's and his own slight modifications. It's functional, will keep the knee steady. Feel free to say hello while he's focused; we all love to interrupt him while he's busy, right? Or maybe you'll find him sitting in a chair, cycling through Rock's many dog talents: sit, lay down, speak, stay. He seems a bit less restless compared to the other times he's been confined here, but then maybe he's just really, really glad to not be stuck in a goddamn tunnel. Or maybe there's a tension eased there thanks to Beverly managing to treat him without anything horrible happening this time. Either way, a sick and limited Max busy with his usual routine is a contented one.

Comments

[kill_switch]

Furiosa not planning on staying long; she knows he's tough and probably doesn't need checking up on, but he's the only one of her people here. He's getting checked up on.

By now she knows to go straight to the shuttle instead of checking his room first, rapping her knuckles on the door, a plant - different than the one she'd had him watch before - tucked under one arm.

"Fool, you awake?"

[theroadwarrior]

"Almost always," is the groggy reply. But judging by the way he sits up and rubs down some wild misplaced hair and rubs his face, he's actually been dozing quite a bit today. As he glances over at her, he makes a disapproving little face. "Gotta stop meeting like this."

He's looking right towards the plant. Him in a shuttle, in a blanket. Furiosa with a new plant for him to concern himself over. You're a cruel mistress, Furiosa.

[kill_switch]

"Stop falling into things and I'll think about it."

She sets the plant down on the console and nudges it towards him. "Grew this little guy in the Iskaulit. Figured you might want one of your own." It's because their world has none it has nothing to do with watching Max struggle. Or, maybe it's a gentle reminder that - yes - he is indeed good with living things. Furiosa may be cruel, but it's not needlessly so.

[theroadwarrior]

"I do that for a living," he replies, and boy he's not sure if he's even kidding. But at the explanation of the plant, he leans sideways as if to try and better look at all angles of said plant. There's a world of uncertainty on his face, but when she says it's his, there's a whole different aura about him. It's more one of quiet curiosity than panic. If it dies, it's at least 'his'. Killing something of Furiosa's is another matter altogether, it seems.

At any rate, he's doing his best impression of a person trying to see an animal in a zoo habitat, expression a bit more naked and relaxed than it usually is (well, he still looks sickly, but even so - pleasant).

"... What kind of plant is it?"

[kill_switch]

"It's an aloe vera. Low-maintenance, the leaves break off and can be used to sooth small burns." Maybe not what he's suffering right now, but the idea is the plant is useful.

[theroadwarrior]

"Aloe vera..." He takes the potted little plant in hand, studying it, giving a small, approving nod. "Seen it before; anything that can exist in our world's got to be sturdy." And it is. The Wasteland leaves very little, but the plants that can be cultivated? They're goddamn tough. After a moment, he glances at her with considerable pause.

"You don't want it? It's useful..."

Here sits Max, terrible at accepting useful gifts.

Furiosa could be using this; he feels stingy with something he isn't even hoarding.

[kill_switch]

"There's plenty more, not a large amount but a few. This guy was struggling so I set him apart and worked him back up, and now he's bigger than the rest. No room."

See Max, you'd be doing all the plants a favor.

[theroadwarrior]

He relents, takes the plant as his own. He's never really made it a point to own a plant, mostly because his way of life - well, it doesn't leave much room for plants thriving, now does it? But this is fine. This is nice. He has little in the way of travels now (as much as that irks him).

His expression relaxes, and he nods.

"... Thanks. It'll be useful."

Wasteland talk for I really like it aw you shouldn't have I'm flattered.

... He frowns in concern.

"Hope I don't kill it."

[kill_switch]

"I don't think you will." Her voice is soft and considerate, rare and only afforded to those she trusts.

"I'll be around if you have any questions, at any rate. Or Ino or Beverly."

[theroadwarrior]

He almost visibly winces at the mention of Beverly and Ino. Even though he's let Beverly tend to his knee, he still feels... awkward, about the whole situation. It's clear enough though since that horrible day dealing with his tooth. Better than before, but still a painful memory of what he's incapable of controlling, some days.

But the faith that he'll keep it alive makes him feel a little... better.

Warmer, maybe.

"Mn. Make sure you wear a mask."

[kill_switch]

she sees him wince, figures she can guess what it's about, and does him the respect of not inquiring. It was a tough time, and she doesn't begrudge him his response then; they both had their demons. You didn't survive in their world without picking up a few.

The mention of the mask, in fact, causes her to frown and look away for a moment. "Yeah, okay." She won't, not yet.

[theroadwarrior]

Max rolls his eyes toward her, looking like he doesn't believe her at all.

"You'll get sick again..."

[kill_switch]

She's quiet, struggling internally. Of course he'd be able to see through her. You don't go through what they did and not pick up a few ticks, learn to read the tells. She pulls in a breath and hefts it out, turning to look at him.

"It doesn't bother you at all, seeing the masks everywhere?"

[theroadwarrior]

"Bothers me just to wear one," he says, mimicking a mask over his face. He figures he doesn't need to explain to her why it would mess with him. To have that small but no less horrible part of his existence at the Citadel brought back to the surface. Hell, it was part of the reason he panicked and hit Beverly. "... But we — adapt. We survive. Getting sick, it'll make us less ready, if things fall apart."

So his obsessive survival concerns have at least overrode his deeply rooted anxiety.

Or muted it enough that he can function for a while on the planet, anyway.

[kill_switch]

She nods. It makes sense. They adapt, they survive. It's just one system. They'll move on eventually.

"Okay. I'll wear a mask if I go back down." She could just stay up here, but after their previous experience at the station, she figures it's not a bad idea to bulk up on credits when she can.

"Do you think we'll ever find a healthy green planet?"

[theroadwarrior]

"... We could."

He sinks into his blanket, looking exhausted and sick, but a bit better with talk.

"Hope is dangerous. But it has... it's place sometimes. Just..." A pause. He bites his lip, considering how to word it. "Don't let it dig claws too deep."

[kill_switch]

"No." Her voice is soft, she gets what he's saying, and hope definitely seemed to work in odd ways. Their hope to find the Green Place died, but their hope to live free in a place where things could grow did indeed succeed in the Citadel.

Maybe she's already found hope here, in the form of the gardens on the Iskaulit? She sits in thought, quiet, and then notices him looking tired but with a little better color. She stands to leave.

"I need to get back to my ship. You know how to reach me, if you need anything."

[theroadwarrior]

He gives a nod.

"Know where to find me if you need me."

He relaxes back into the chair, blinking wearily as she leaves.

He glances once at the plant, scoots it closer to thumb one of the rough spikes, and then lulls into one of his usual short (but mercifully restful) slumbers.