My name is Max. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theroadwarrior) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-04-04 12:06 am
theroadwarrior) wrote in driftfleet2016-04-04 12:06 am
Entry tags:
OTA | recovering from a pitfall (and being stuck with you-know-who)
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.
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.
no subject
"I'll remember that when I need them--"
Only, he sways to the side, his injured leg taking the brunt of his stagger, and he sees near-literal stars in his eyes when the pain jolts through his busted limb. His vision whites out for a moment as the knee buckles and he scrabbles to grip for the sink again. Somewhere in this split moment of time he thinks in a rather late revelation, maybe I shouldn't be standing.
"Ngh--"
no subject
Peggy is at his side in an instant. One strong arm braces against his back, while her opposite hand grabs firmly onto his elbow. "Steady, now," she cautions and holds his weight in place while trying to fish for the chair with her toes. It scrapes across the floor until its near enough to be his convenient seat.
"Sit back down. Have some water, for heaven's sake."
no subject
no subject
Her hands hover -- above his shoulders, nearly dancing down his arms to feel the swell in his thigh for herself. But her fingers tighten, and she resists the urge to be quite so forward in her concern. Max is a man seasoned in his years, who likely knows how to manage his pain better than she does. He isn't some young buck soldier who needs a firm and guiding hand. Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is nothing at all.
"Ice? I can get you ice."
There is a restrained concern in the back of her voice.
no subject
And of course, it's a good day. It's not a bad day. He nods.
"Ice... hnm... please." Look at those strained manners, like asking with 'please' is not something he has a bachelor's in. But that will work. He just needs to handle the pain until the knee stops being twice its normal size.