ataraxion | 002: video;

I don't really enjoy making these recordings so I'll try and be brief. While things are slow in medbay - and I know I'm probably jinxing it by saying that - I want to remind people that we're open for run of the mill check ups, consultations on existing ailments, examining any strange itches or lumps, help with nutrition or sleeping problems--anything you need. We've seen it all before.

For those of you who frequently put yourselves at risk, the medbay really works better when we have stock of your own blood available, which means coming in and getting it drawn. We have synthetic blood, and all sorts of injections and tablets that can improve the capacity of blood production, but nothing is better than getting your own blood back when you get injured. It's especially important in the case of gunshot wounds where you lose a lot of fluids much too quickly.

And uh, finally... [ Dexter scratches his nose. ] If you have any odd nutritional needs, it'd be better if we could discuss them now rather than have to pick up the bodies later. Medbay can help, just give us a call. I promise we'll be one hundred percent discreet, no matter what.

Oh-- [ Not quite done yet, okay. ] Does anyone know how to make bear claws? Jelly filled donuts? I owe someone an apology, and baked goods have always been the way to go.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Benny nods. A puzzle. But he brushes past without expanding on that, lifting the lid of a large pot and dipping a ladle into it to stir. ]

The hell am I supposed to make of you? You come here, carryin' synthetic blood by request -- an' you don't even know me.

I'm willing to bet you and I both know that this ship ain't just ferryin' livin', breathin' humans across the universe.

At least not only living, breathing human beings. Spending most of my time doing the night shifts to get away from my colleagues means I get to meet the ship's more interesting customers. And then serve them their late night snacks.

[ He reaches up, rubbing his right eye. ]

I'm just the blood guy. Literally, it turns out.

And you ain't concerned that in all that deliverin', you won't find yourself on the menu?

[ Benny aims a broadening smile over his shoulder at the lab technician. His nonchalance is interesting... and reminds him a bit of a certain hunter. Only nerdier. ]

No offense, but I dunno if that means you're stupid or suicidal.

Edited 2013-06-27 23:23 (UTC)

I don't think I'd be that tasty. All that greasy Miami cooking.

[ It's so casual, the way he brushes it off, with a great big fake smile. ]

Besides, anyone who goes eating the delivery guy is missing the real trick.

[ Benny turns around, advances on Dexter and immediately crowds into his space. You know what? He takes that back. Dexter has the calm confidence of something else entirely, something unlike Dean. It kind of reminds him of himself. Now that is strange. ]

Alright. Clearly this ain't your first rodeo. [ The self proclaimed 'blood guy', so comfortable with what most humans would disbelieve or shrink away from if they knew what was better for them. ]

...So what's the trick?

[ Dexter doesn't lean back in like a monster filling up the remaining space, but his mental black wings rustle, unfolding about him. He meets the other man's gaze. Not challenging, just looking. Not standing his ground, but not quivering in surrender, either. He's confident just where he is, in his own skin, no more defiant--just existing.

His thumb slides over the plunger of the syringe, but it's barely there before his hand obscures it, sliding it into his palm. He can recognise a bluff, but he can't barter on that alone; you only live once. ]

I'm one of the few people who knows how the machine works, which means I can refine the process. Choose a blood type, vary the ratio of red, white and plasma--personalise it, then replicate it time and time again.

[ That either means this man here ain't a man... or he's a hunter. Or as near to one as Benny can see. Crazy 'n stupid could fit too, but all in all Dexter's proving himself to be quite an interesting find. A find that also seems to have one hell of a talent for slight of hand, although Benny sure as hell couldn't catch sight of what he just palmed.

Or maybe lack of blood is making him jumpy. ]

And that all means what exactly?

[ Benny drawls, not following much of that technical mumbo-jumbo except he can kinda-sorta piece some of it together... enough at least to ask after he cocks his head to a slight angle: ]

You mean if someone were to want a servin' of AB Negative, you're one of the only ones on this rig who can whip up a batch?

Uh huh. And you can have it reduced with a splash of Tabasco sauce, if that's how you like it. Warm, cold, with a straw and a cocktail umbrella - whatever you like.

[ He angles his head back toward the table. Benny is still looming. ]

I brought you a variety. For your friend.

[ He knows it's not for a friend. ]

[ A smile slowly returns to Benny's face, nodding as he steps away and toward the table, dropping a container of gumbo on it. He got what he wanted out of this test -- Dexter doesn't budge and likewise doesn't seem all too concerned about his humanity when faced with a vamp. And he's human. Benny can tell his own kind at a glance, and Dexter is certainly ranked among them. ]

My friend is much obliged.

[ Benny's dealt with the black market before. Hell, it was the only way he was able to get his hands on what he needed for survival without taking it from the living. He paid good money for donated blood, had to considering it wasn't donated to him. But these interactions were all the same. He was buying for a friend, and the seller would be skeptical and sell anyway. ]

So what do you get out of it? What, you keep the beasties well fed as your part of maintainin' the peace on this craft? Or is there something you're lookin' for in return?

Other than the gumbo?

[ Dexter offers a smile, pushing the container over toward Benny. ]

It's not really about maintaining the peace. I didn't sign up for security, which might surprise anyone who knew how many times Tyke called me every month. [ Maybe a little bit too much information. ] I'm a doctor. Nutritional requirements have medical consequences, which means it's in my best interest to make sure my potential patients are all healthy.

[ He's bullshitting a little bit, playing the caring MO, when actually he's poking around to see if anyone is dangerous enough that he should be taking them out. ]

Not all the vamps here are the same.

[ In his efforts to remain beneath the collective radar of every hunter on this ship -- and that went just about as poorly as one can imagine -- Benny doesn't know who this Tyke is... but that sure is one of the more unfortunate names for anyone who wants to be taken seriously, particularly in anything involving security. The name conjures up the image of a babe in swaddling clothes and that thought alone makes it hard for Benny to stifle a short laugh. ]

And what would you know about vampires?

[ Here Benny thought that the medical profession only concerned itself with the living... not so much the dead except in opening them up to find out what went wrong. Benny's less than comfortable with that idea, though... and no less skeptical about a doctor who concerns himself with the well-being of monsters. ]

002: video;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action; so late sry ;;