driftfleet | Red Fish Mingle

Entry tags:

Red Fish Mingle

Who: The crew and (many) visitors of the Red Fish!
Broadcast: Nope
Action: Aboard the SS Red Fish
When: Nebulously after the Great Winter Soldier Violence Spree of '16

[it was bound to happen sometime. all three captains of the SS Red Fish are hauled back home in various stages of medical distress, and things have been a little weird since then.

one of these things is the super soldier with the busted metal arm that is brought in to be kept locked up in Coil's lab for a while. turns out those restraints he'd had installed did come in handy. that's a thing.

so, whether you're here to check on one of the various ailing people here, gawk at the guy chained up in the ~~dungeon~~ lab, or are just trying to live your life in relative peace and sanity, come on in!]

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[his brow furrows, looking like skepticism at first, but it's a very brief expression. of all the things he knows that Winter is capable of, lying has never seemed like something that would be very high in that skillset.

'don't remember?' signing the most full and formal versions of the words, just so there's no mistake.

though, he doesn't wait for an answer. there's leftover anger and shock lying deep in there somewhere, and the supposed gap in Winter's understanding is the opportunity it needs to vent a little. Coil is more than ready to explain, though the signs are a little stiff and abbreviated because of his current condition. the motions are short, sharp, pained. very pointed.

'you attacked my partner, me, others.' the blankness of his face is interrupted with the small twist of a grimace then--either from pain or bitterness. 'like enemies.'

then a few disembodied short signs tangle together--fingers curling hard at his mouth and both hands set in claw-shapes moving at each other, for anger and battle--before he points at one side of Winter's body. 'I took your arm.']

[ Oh, he's capable of lying, but he has absolutely no reason to in this instance. It won't help him out of the situation, and isn't called for.

He shakes his head to the question, there's nothing yet. He doesn't doubt that it'll come back quickly enough, though. God, this is a fucking mess, any he has no one to blame but himself.

Winter's mouth draws into a thin line, thinking of how to explain. ]

There's this code..in my head. It's like a fail safe, makes me compliant. [ He pauses briefly, eyes flicking up to catch Coil's. ] I heard it in my head. Wasn't a way to stop it.

[ And well, Coil knows the rest. ]

[whatever explanation he'd been expecting, this isn't exactly it. his brow lowers, he frowns, and his anger tentatively begins to slide toward a different target.

voices in his head, hmm? at least Coil is taking that claim very seriously, and two different options immediately come to mind. knowing the people here, someone breaking into his thoughts to activate a code doesn't seem outside the realm of possibility, but... in his experience, whenever his own mind has been meddled with here, there has been a different cause.

questioningly, he turns his head and taps a finger against his own augment, where the grey plastic peeks above the skin behind his ear.]

[ He debates on whether or not he should mention who he thought it sounded like. Winter doesn't want to shift blame completely if it wasn't just some augment glitch; but it still doesn't make sense as to how it happened if it weren't. He doesn't remember the words until they're spoken, which he supposes is part of the beauty of it.

Winter's expression is somber as he nods his head. It's looking more likely, especially with all the weird things that have been going on lately. ]

That's the assumption.. I don't have any answers aside from that.

[ He still doesn't feel like himself, fully, though, that's always a moot point. ]

[he's still for a good long minute while he thinks. there's a lot to absorb and consider there, a lot to be weighed and measured... and he's not quite as focused as he'd like to be. he tries to work out all of the possible considerations in his head, but he sways a little on his feet as he stands there. the whole thing is ugly and complicated, and it isn't helping him feel any less lightheaded.

he's tired and his guard must be lowering a little, because he risks taking a moment to rub his eye. just a little break to let his mind rest and regather itself before he moves on to the next matter. task-oriented even now... because it's easier than trying to work out mysteries he can't touch, or considering the very human anger and hurt that he doesn't know what to do with, still cluttering up the back of his mind.

after he finally manages to refocus somewhat, he takes a step closer, within the reach of the restraints.

'how are you?' --it's the next issue at hand.]

[ It's easier to be angry at someone when another party isn't responsible. Easier to lay the blame on the hands that caused the destruction. Can the weapon really be blamed for it when there is a hand pulling the trigger? Winter wants to believe he can still be held accountable for it. He should have been stronger. He shouldn't have gotten comfortable in this place. He shouldn't have tried so hard to be a person.

He watches Coil, concern written very visibly on his face. He doesn't make any sort of move, even with Coil within reach. His restrained hands in his lap.

How are you? Honestly? Not okay. He's wounded, fucking guilty, and he's tired down to his bones. He's grasping for what the fuck to do to move forward, and awaiting some sort of death sentence. He looks back up to Coil.

'Fine.'

He's alive, and not with HYDRA, though his current residents is eerily similar and his skin buzzes in unease all the time. ]

[Coil had been so cautious a minute ago, but maybe it's that clinical gear that he's shifting so intently into that has him suddenly reaching for Winter--right for somewhere vulnerable. maybe it'd been the possible malicious intent that Coil had wanted to stay out of range of, and not the threat of physical harm itself. because now that Winter has cleared up his current state of mind, Coil is much more bold.

he might not like the look on Winter's face, either. another thing he'd like to fix.

so, regardless of what the soldier had so recently done to him, he experimentally grabs at his defective shoulder, digging a thumb where corrupted metal meets flesh.]

[ He remains unsure as to what Coil is actually doing, because he still can't get a peg on him. He's supposed to be good at this, dammit. The Fleet has made him soft. That, or it's made him less suspicious of everyone.

Coil's hand lands on his left shoulder, which, okay. Sure, but then pain flares sharply where the metal sinks into his flesh, and the very irritated scarring that someone had bruised a few days ago. The bruising had faded, but the shoulder still remains sore. Winter flinches, his shoulders hunching as he hisses through his teeth.

He raises his good hand to gently push Coil's hand away. That fucking hurts. ]

[regardless of whatever other motives may or may not have been behind it, the little jab and subsequent reaction actually tell him a lot. it tells him that the nerves there are alive, they are still angry or damaged, and it also tells him that the soldier isn't going to lash out at him like a wounded animal might. that last piece of information is by far the most important.

so, Coil doesn't go very far. he winces too, as a brighter flare of pain than he expects flashes across his chest, just at trying to use whatever muscles would have been needed to resist having his hand pushed away. but he comes right back, finally getting a closer look at exactly what he'd done to that arm--pushing a little at the metal and running fingers along the corroded fractures running through it.

eventually, his eye scans over the larger picture in front of him, taking in how much has already been healed, until it lands on the deepest, meanest wound in the soldier's leg.

and because his bedside manner doesn't usually take into account patients that are still living, he doesn't even think this time before he reaches down to push fingers at the edge of that one too.]

[ He's trying incredibly hard to be gentle, when the instinct to lash out is screaming at him. But that's not who he is. He doesn't want to hurt anyone. Coil's touch recedes to something a little more clinical that he can't feel as they run over the ruined metal.

Winter turns his head away, the sight of the corroded metal giving way to the mechanics underneath make bile rise in the back of his throat. Some wires get crossed in his head and it aches where there should be chunks out of a flesh arm, exposing muscle and bone. His head is telling him it should be painful, but there's no flesh, no fresh wounds. It's all in his head. It fades quickly when his attention shifts.

It shifts quickly to very real pain as Coil's fingers prod at his still-healing wound. This time he pushes his hand away quickly and with a little more force. ]

Yes, it still hurts. [ That's what you want to know, right? ]

[he actually wants to see how deep the wound still goes, what kind of edges it has, what important things are severed and in danger of scarring into a knot instead of smooth, useful muscle. he doesn't know how the soldier's healing ability works. this sort of progress is important to track in something that wants to keep all of its functionality.

so, he's more caught off guard this time when he's pushed away. he'd been about to try and pull back at the torn fabric there when Winter shoves at his hand.

that hurts much more than the first time. pain lances across his chest, makes him hiss through his teeth, and he shies back into his own space again. Coil is still hovering, but Winter has a little more room to breathe for a moment.

it takes him a minute to fight through the little spasm in his ribs, and afterward he keeps his arms held low to sign, because he can't lift them higher.

pointing at his leg-- 'want stitches?']

[ As soon as he does it, he regrets it. Winter casts Coil an apologetic look, but he does breathe a little easier with the extra room.

He watches Coil try to regain his breath through his previously-caved in chest until he manages to gain control again. ]

It should heal on its own.

[ Besides, Coil really shouldn't put too much effort into helping him when he's not even healed properly himself. ]

[he frowns. 'scar. bad.'

the ideas are abbreviated, cut down to their simplest forms for efficiency's sake to save his own energy. he also gnarls his fingers in the direction of Winter's leg to clarify that he means more than just a superficial scar. going by how typical humans heal, that looks like the sort of thing that would mend itself much more quickly and cleanly with some attention.

because, even though the soldier had nearly killed him, he knows how important it is for a machine to run smoothly. it would be a shame for such skill to end up permanently marred.]

[ He's no stranger to scars- some of the uglier wounds are bound to leave their mark, even on a body that heals the way his does. Winter can't ignore the fact that it wouldn't be efficient if it didn't heal correctly.

He concedes with a weary sigh, his shoulder sagging. ]

Alright.

[he nods--looking a little bit energized, suddenly. he has a goal; he has something to tinker with and mend. and whether other people in this room would agree or not, doing something that he was made to do is something that always makes Coil feel a little bit better. it's easier to ignore the ache digging deep into his bones and muscles when he has a task to focus on. it hurts, but it's better than rotting still on a hospital bed.

it doesn't take him long to shuffle around the lab and pull the necessary supplies together. stitching up one another's wounds had practically been a form of bonding for him and his partner, and he'd been skilled with a surgical needle long before that. he pulls a wheeled tray along with him, slowly but efficiently gathering up all the tools he needs, before returning to Winter's parking spot.

Coil looks like hell, but he's focused now. and once he returns, he motions for Winter to probably straighten his leg, while he pulls a pair of scissors from the array of tools.]

[ He watches Coil move efficiently around the medical bay, gathering items on the cart he pulls over with him. A spike of anxiety bubbles in his chest, just the sight of the instruments on the table. Winter shakes his head subtly to try and get rid of the feeling. It's fine. It's Coil.

He straightens his leg when prompted, shifting on the cot. ]

[it's just Coil... but boy does he move with the purpose and precision of a scientist. or a mechanic. it would almost be something like a doctor, if it wasn't for his lack of bedside manner. he's delicate about snipping the cloth away from the wound, but he doesn't think to provide any anesthesia before flushing it out and beginning to clean up the edges. which likely means that he won't think of it before proceeding any further in the treatment, if he isn't reminded.

speak now or forever hold your peace.]

[ Don't worry, Coil. He's used to having wounds treated with no anesthesia. He wouldn't think to say anything before. Maybe it's one of those things he should remember, but honestly, it's not a big deal.

He'll hiss when the needle breaks skin, but the pain is minimal compared to other wounds. Or wounds he inflicted on anyone else. ]

[you know, sometimes guilt is the only analgesic you need. Coil knows what it's like to receive pain that you know deserve. maybe he'll even feel a little better after a bit of healthy suffering.

and regardless of the reason these wounds are there to begin with, Coil does a thorough job--taking his time to tack the depths of the injury together before lacing together neat, strong sutures along the surface.

other than the fact that he's not wearing gloves or anything, it's fine work.]

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Red Fish Mingle

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