Fire(y tempers) in the Burn Ward

Lady of the Lake Hospital -- Coronet City: Corellia

Pristine walls of white extend as far as the eye can see, and the atmosphere is filled with the disinfected smell of sterile cleanness. Doctors and nurses frequent the halls, and the waiting rooms are commonly occupied by citizens awaiting treatment of one form or another. The polite, efficient nursing staff and large number of young medical students present keep the area alive with a certain level of warmth and friendliness while the serious tones of the doctors and other medical staff give the hospital the air of importance and professionalism such an institution demands.

The burn ward of Lady of the Lake Hospital, like in any medical facility, is a rather sobering place. Most room occupants are kept a mystery behind closed doors and each pod occupant in the critical care center at least has a privacy screen to keep away the lookeeloos. The ambient sound is a mixture of typical beeps, hums, click-clacking equipment and the miserable moans of those sadly still awake. Not all patients are so near death of course. Those who are deemed stable enough are permitted visitation. The atmosphere is still kept exceptionally sterile because supposedly people without skin get infections really easily?

In one of those private rooms there sits an Ambassador. Well, bows, really. Curls? Given the location of her trauma, the most comfortable position for Ambrosia currently is on her kneels, atop the bed, torso lain over a therapy ball. Not so unlike some relief-giving positions for laboring women. It's between this straddling huddle and laying flat on her face that she's spent the night. Her gown opens to the back, giving easy access to the worst of things. Currently, her backside is graciously covered by a few strategically placed, overlapping ties. Her mid-upper back, however, remains exposed.

Translucent, slimy looking mesh covers the few, sizable spots of raw tissue. The margins are slowly filling in with fresh, milky growth and it looks like the center even has produced the lowest layer, sealing off muscle from view. Still. Gross.

On the bedside table is a jar of stimulating/lubricating cream (FOR NEW SKIN) and an untouched juice cup. Ambrosia's face is angled away from the door, staring blearily at the shaded window. Her hair's clipped up atop her skull - not much to clip from the looks of things.

There are some days when he absolutely loves his job. The luncheons, the viewings, the fundraisers and the balls. That's why Teag Darrit got into the business. To socialize, not to make social calls for the corporate CEO. Still, Ewan Dain had been good to him over the years and even this sort of thing fell under his job description. Damn it. The older Corellian moves into the Lady of the Lake peering over his datapad for the right room information. He spots the guard blocking access to the Ambassador's room and stops.

"Evening. I'm here to see Ambassador Delgard. My employer received a com message directing his presence here. Unfortunately he is unavailable but sent me in his stead. I can answer any questions and make or nix any legal requirements that he may be bound to."

Argon was glad to have packed his identification, as he needed it to get back here, which was a sensible precaution on the security's part. He nods to the guard and flashes his ID and says, "Commander Brand, New Republic Navy. Do you have any information on how this happened?"

"She hasn't been very forthcoming, as of yet. Was only partially conscious when dropped off." And that's all the guard's saying 'bout that, for now. He does narrow his eyes upon the corporate employee, not seeming particularly thrilled. "You think so? Well, all right. Wait here." Buzzing once to alert the patient, the guard knocks the 'open' button with a meaty knuckle, then disappears inside. There's some low murmuring...silence...more mumbling...silence...then?

A low, quaking growl of "Coward."

Yep, today was one of the bad days. Teag was getting to old for this. He looks at the 100k credit chronometer on his left wrist and shakes his head. Right about now he'd be having dinner with clients, or having drinks with clients, or sleeping with clients. Instead he was Ewan Dain's dirty work. Of course, none of his true emotion shows on his face, he looks as happy as a casparian clam to be here. He unbuttons his blazer to the top button and shoves his datapad into an inside pocket. "Thank you."

As the guard goes into the room he spots the arrival of Argon and he nods to him and flashes a hundred watt smile. "Commander, Ewan Dain said you might be here. He sends his regards." Teag really hated this.

Argon nods to the corporate representative. "Thank you." When the door opens and the growl emits from it, Argon raises a brow and steps in. He is shocked by what he sees. "Well, what information /do/ you have? I would hoep that we have something to work with!"

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Yadayada.

Embodying this age-old saying is the very look that Ambrosia Delgard sends around the uniformed bicep of her security detail. Withering. Withering glare. "Figures." Sheets are sent a shuffling as she shifts painfully around on the bed, attempting to push back from the ball and sit awkwardly on a heel. Just one. The other buttock won't be sitting on ANYTHING for a couple days yet. Her partially fleshed back glistens as the mesh ripples with her movement beneath the squishy layer of cream. A closer look will see her feet dressed with a few smaller bacta patches. Her left forearm and hand bear sickening resemblance to her back.

"Do come in," she intones with the smile of the viper a certain Imperial nobleman once declared her to be across many galactic channels.

Her security guard nods at Argon. "She's confirmed that the wreckage found in the wastelands is hers. Was. Hers."

Teag steps into the room as well and offers his best smile to the livid Ambassador before him. Right now he's just glad there's a guard around, who knows what she might do to the man for baring her less than welcome news. If Teag thinks any less of Dain for sending him in, it does not show on his stubbled face. Few faces on earth look more kindly and understanding. "Thank you so much for allowing me to come in and hopefully, clear some things up. I regret to inform you, as you know, Mr. Dain is not currently available or I assure you he would be."

He takes a seat at one of the chairs in the room and withdraws his datapad. "I was told there would be questions needing answers and I am here to do just that. Consider me an open book. Mr. Dain has fully briefed me on the happenings on Tatooine. I regret I could not get here sooner, but it seems it is hard to drop in on a New Republic ambassador unannounced."

Argon shakes his head at the news, but crosses his arms and relaxes his posture as he listens for the moment, "So that is what is going on. I heard some rumors about something going on over there, but this... is an affront to the Republic. Who did this?"

"Doubtful," Ambrosia whispers through clenched teeth and trembling lips while she takes a little while longer to look this emissary over. Her guard keeps quiet, standing close by with one hand resting casually on his pistol. The ambassador flicks a glance to the mortified Commander. "Someone whom I presume is very far away, by now. A pair, actually."

Her voice, while suitably conveying the tempest simmering beneath, is kept fairly low and even. It's an effort that puts a little warble in it, though. A little twitch in the brow. A bedpan, woefully empty, is within reasonable reach, but her preferred target has purposefully made himself scarce. This only makes the anger stew hotter. Anger's not the only thing bringing color to her grimly gray cheeks, of course. The wet clinging to her eyes' corners is testament to that.

"Ewan Dain knew...he knew of my travel plans. And Ewan Dain was there when all my men, my women, were slaughtered. Obliterated. Dispatched into mere particles...those who were lucky. He was the one to pull me away from them and deliver me into the hunter's hold. They were left there. To rot in some abomination's gut!"

Teag leans forward and listens intently to Ambrosia's words. He ticks away on his datapad screen recording her words. He feels truly sorry for the woman, what she went through. Dain had told him but to see her in person. Teag scratches the side of his nose and responds. "Now, these things your saying, that's not the way it was. And those aren't questions, they're accusations. Now, don't get me wrong, what happened to you was an absolute disaster, but, if you can, try and remember what happened precisely. Perhaps I can spark your memory?"

Teag leans forward into his chair and a hologram of Ewan Dain appears in the middle of the room. "Dain's recollection. 'Me and the Trandoshan saw her being chased down by someone. I didn't know who it was was but she looked panicked. I did my best to detour those that chased her but my shooting isn't that good. Nachkt on the other hand was a damn good shot and obliterated a number of her pursuers. So, Ambrosia is badly wounded out there in the fire fight, so I leap out of the ship and take her burned body out of the wreckage. I call in some backup and Nachkt persuades me to take her onto his ship because she was in danger. I do that and call my allies to link up with us at coordinates away from the attack site. That's when it all started to go wrong." The holo-image shimmers a little but continues.

"I pick the Ambassador up in my arms to get her over to my ship that just docked with the Prayer and the Trandoshan tries to stop me. He raises the barrel of a blaster and I returned in kind. I told him she was coming with me. He didn't like that."

"Who is this Nachkt?" Argon asks, turning to Ambrosia, "And who was chasing you? Either way, /someone/ is going to pay for this." He scowls and paces a little. "Where is Mr. dain?"

"No..." Ambrosia shakes her head lightly at first as the hologram begins its tale, but by the end is tossing her hair with an emphatic "NO! That's NOT right! That's wrong that's....that's a damn lie!" A little light on the side of her bed - one of many buttons/knobs/flashy things on the panel starts to blink red, picking up on her escalating heart rate.

Her expression seems strained, cut to the core by this blatant misrepresentation of events. "He..." she looks, stricken, between Argon and her guard before staring at Teag as though the man's grown a second head. "There was no one! No one 'chasing' me. It was a damn convoy! A lead vehicle, MY vehicle, a rear vehicle...an armed escort! That's it! We had left the palace, Merk had to detour for gastric distress in the canyon, we continued on...not even an hour from the port! Then out of nowhere...this...some sonofabitch freighter blasts over our heads - WAY too low. Just...turret fire...everywhere..." her arms thrash for emphasis, eyes wild. "The rear speeder got kicked over by...I dunno what. F'king ship plowed right by it. Lead one was shot to hell, coms are deafening with SOS for help and...and then we're end over end. I got out, I did. Tried to go for a gun in the sand from the rear vehicle's ....all dead."

Squeezing her eyes closed, she grips at her temples. "Merk grabbed me. Tried to pull me away and I...I hit him I didn't know-it-speeder just---just BLEW UP. And he...everywhere, just..." face puckered with a mixture of disgust and mourning, she cringes.

"I was all that was left, in the end. Me and the droid I told her to stay until the hunter took me in, then start walking, but...just the hunter, at first. I came crawling out...couldn't move well. Then Dain was there."

"Clearly something is up," Argon says, "Who all knew of your trip to Tatooine? I know I did not until now. But I do know that Dain was the one to give me a lift here. I am guessing this Nachkt is the hunter who took you prisoner? I can get a hold of CorSec if you want. At the very least the government on Ord should probably be made aware, through the appropriate channels."

Ambrosia's head continues to wag. "The...those who assigned and approved me to go. The heads of state, of diplomatic affairs, a liason from Intelligence, to whom I was to report Juuka's response to our requests, the...all the right people. I just..." the flustered woman stiffly waves a gooey arm at the holographic victim of her ire. "I was speaking to him in his office about unrelated things and mentioned where he could contact me regarding such things in the near future because of my next leg of diplomatic tour. I didn't think...I never imagined..."

The guard edges a little nearer, perhaps in effort to remind her that she needn't be so distressed now. She's safe! Right?

"I KNOW what happened...I remember what I saw, what I heard, what I felt. Feel. Pieces of it are fuzzy - once we were on board the ship. I remember trying to ask him to not, to put me down to not go inside - he /was/ communicating with someone on his com - but we did. He...the other one. The Trandoshan. Told him to patch me up. I remember seeing the med kit - a joke. I...there was something on my hand. My back - I could feel it. Pieces of the speeder, pieces of...of Merk. A cold table, then...then I was waking up. Naked. Couldn't move. Didn't want to. Smelled the bacta. Dain was gone. He left me there. The hunter said as much...did claim that Mr. Dain tried to bargain for me."

Ah hah! So there's a small nugget of memory in Dain's favor. The wave of fury seems to be at end, softened by a tired look moreso than understanding one. "It's possible he had a change of heart, when he saw what he had been part of. But that doesn't explain what he was doing as a willing passenger on board a bounty hunter's ship in pursuit and extermination of a New Republic emissary and her military escorts!" Ah there it is, her second wind.

"I see," Argon frowns, "Perhaps he was duped. I do not know, but I am sure that can wait for the time being. The fortunate thing is that you are alive," he would say well, but that would be a lie and they all knew it, "Hopefully your meeting went well, though I would advise against mentioning details of it until you are in a secure location." With an unapproved company rep nearby who reports to Dain, probably best not to spill beans out here. "I can see to it that you will get to Ord as soon as you are safe to travel."

The older Corellian puts away the datapad that seems to be causing the woman so much distress. He shoves it into his pocket and leans back in his chair. "I have been employed by Ewan Dain for near a decade and what you're saying doesn't make sense. You wont find a man more dedicated to the New Republic... In his own way. He would never, I assure you, go on a mission to capture you, or destroy you. Perhaps you're too angry to see right now, but I think Ewan Dain might have feelings for you." It was embarrassing to say but the holo-producer had confided in Teag that sentiment, more or less. "Something is missing, something that would explain Dain's mistake."

The security guard's eyelids drop about a quarter inch. He doesn't get paid enough to listen to half the shit he does. Seriously.

The vein above Ambrosia's right eye is pulsing. Looks like she might want to hit something. "Well," she says, barely audible, "perhaps you'd better find out what, so you've a better answer prepared when the investigation knocks upon whatever ROCK he's hiding under!" And finishes /very/ audibly.

There was a reason, maybe, that she hadn't composed a formal statement yet to aid in this budding investigation. Well, few reasons. Firstly, it's awfully difficult to knock somebody in the teeth when they're within the protective confines of a cell. Secondly, in the impossibly small realm of possibility, IF Dain were in fact an unwitting participant in all of this mess, she wanted to offer him the chance of clearing the air. Denying her very real experience of events, however, ain't the way to clear the air. It's just made it very full of noise.

Argon blinks as the official speaks. "Well..." The short man is a little lost for words, which fortunately are not needed as silence is defeated by Ambrosia's outburst, albeit a warranted one. "So where is your employer, currently? Perhaps he has more to say than what he did in the hologram?"

"Isn't the point of hospital bed rest to keep the patient /stable/..." Halos' voice cuts in from the doorway. Venturing through security had necessitated the production of a military ID which she's in the process of returning to a jacket pocket after flashing it to the most recent set of humanoid door-blockers. The other hand carries a transiplast wrapped fistful of flowers that look conspicuously like one of the arrangement on sale nearby.

"You, madame ambassador..." she settles her gaze on the visibly irritated woman. "...need a better security detail. This is what, three times in twelve months? They're letting the side down and I got wars to fight, lady...."

The door opens then closes as two well dressed and very well built Corellian men in dark suits step into the hospital room. Each one holds a finger to the comlinks at their ears. They split to opposite sides of the door and the older of the two says something indistinguishable into his comlink. Both men nod to each and cross their arms and stare straight ahead. There is a commotion outside that they ignore, a smirk can be faintly seen on the younger of two's face. The door to hospital room opens with a hiss.

Dain enters the lobby from the street.

Dain has arrived.

Ewan Dain, one time director of New Republic Intelligence strides into the room in his finest. He nods to the two Starlight bodyguards and turns his attention to the wounded Ambrosia Delgard. It is clear by the look on his face that he is not happy. His eyes look the ambassador up and down and he moves towards her. Ambrosia, I'm so sorry this happened to you.

Nostrils flare, drawing breath to fill her lungs for what surely will be the greatest of all shouts this floor has heard yet today! The diplomat's glare is anything but peaceful, all-encompassing as it surveys the multiplying horde of uninvited guests. She's a PR nightmare in this moment - face blotchy from lack of sleep, humiliation, fury, and probably a fair amount of stifled tears. Hair frazzled and unevenly cut, lumped with vain attempt to hide it atop her head. Gauzy gown threatening to fall of her shoulders since the back's still wide open from hips-up to let the goopy, regenerating skin breathe.

She looks like a crazy person.

"GET--" And the holler is cut short by the sudden, inward stroll of the originally intended recipient of her wrath. "You..." she hisses lowly and reaches her good hand aside to grip the mobile little bedside table's edge. For stability. Certainly.

OK!! Her door detail steps in, arms up and pointing with both hands to the doorway. "You, you, c'mon. Out. Visiting hours are about over, this is a private meeting...and it's gonna be short." and maybe he can minimize damage, this way. His chin dips aside, muttering something into his com with a sideways glance at Dain's bodyguards. Something about backup. Seriously. Patrolling the burn unit of a civilian hospital was /not/ supposed to entail drama like this. Supposesd to be sad people and comatose patients.

"Lieutenant," Argon nods to Halos as she enters the room in greeting. He is about to say more when the functionary speaks and is further surprised when Dain himself enters, "Well I guess that answers my question." The shorter Corellian winces at Ambrosia's reaction. He looks to all of the parties and holds his ground for the moment, just to ensure that everything is all right.

Halos is several inches shorter than the bodyguard, but she's begged off a promotion to Spec Ops major enough times that brow-beating just doesn't work on her anymore. Instead, she stands her ground, head-craning and all.

"Son..." she begins, closing the pocket into which ID has been slipped with a nonchalance that suggests she's dressing down an NCO not begging entry.

"...I could begin to describe to you the levels of poodoo i've pulled that woman out of, but you would have no frame of reference, and I don't have that kind of time." short or not, Halos has a mean shoulder barge and she levies it to not so much go around as through the would-be obstruction's left side, to the loud rustling of plastic as she waves the flowers like some kind of flag of truce that might shield her from the irritated tirade previously stemming from badly burned lips.

"You look like /shit/."

As Ewan Dain enters the hospital room, Teag Darrit hops to his feet with a five hundred watt smile. "Glad you could make it Dain. I was starting to worry about you." Dain smiles and places a hand on Darrit's shoulder. "Thanks Darrit, I owe you one." "Yeah, you do buddy." Teag turns and nods his head cheerfully at the ambassador's detail and practically floats out of the room with a spring in his step, singing 'O Corellia' on his way out.

As his men are ordered to leave the room, both darkly clad Corellian's look to Dain for the ok. The one time NRI Director nods to them in turn. "But stick close by." They nod without a word and turn on their heels and exit as swiftly as they entered. Dain turns his attention to the devastated Ambassador and the woman who now offered her flowers and a Crime Moon compliment.

Aw. Flowers. There's a somewhat placid expression on Ambrosia face as she regards the little blooms and the marine holding them. It's short lived and the storm clouds roll in again.

"OUT!" She echoes the guard's attempts with a little more vehemence and authority. "Mr. Dain, you have one minute to convince me that I ought not throttle you myself." Or offer his estate as compensation to the families of those corpses now strewn about the desert in piles of scavengers' shit.

"If I scent even a remote trace of dewback dung in what you have to say regarding the fate of the fine men and women escorting me through that miserable plot of dust, then so HELP me, I will."

"It's my job to filter the door," grunts the guard back at the bossy little marine! "She says you can stay, you stay. She says you go, you go. History or not." A hapless shrug of his hands.

Argon steps forward, hoping to avoid any issues, and listens as Ambrosia threatens Dain. He nods in approval at Halos and looks to Ambrosia and then to Dain, "There are certainly issues that need to be resolved." He rubs his forehead in frustration, "Either way, someone is going to pay for this."

Dismissal from Ambrosia herself is received a little differently. Halos nods in commiseration, the flowers deposited on the nearest available surface and a small pouch fished from the other side of her vest. Its set next to the foliage - a few of what marines'd recognise as med-bay essentials. A portable comlink, a fifth of decent scotch, a selection of cosmetics - for when that swelling comes down, an self-inflating neck pillow, some colouring books (hey, they're fun for ALL ages) and a few novels on audio tape. "You need anything..." she nods, letting it trail off before rounding to collect Argon "Come on 'Hero of the Republic' she taunts him with a shoulder-shove and moves to lending her assistance in bodily checking Dain's unwanted hangers-on out of the room. "Lets leave them be. You think the burn victims are going to jump your boss? You'll be right outside. The lady's got her own security, doesn't need a whole audience, eh."

As the gathered supporters of Ambassador Delgard slowly trickle out of the hospital room, Dain can feel the room go colder and colder as each one leaves. He spares a moment to watch the last ally leave and then turns to Ambrosia and holds up his hands. "I have a lot of explaining to do, but first you gotta know I didn't kill any of your escort, I wouldn't. Here's how it all went down.

I had bumped into Nachkt on Tatooine and we seemed to hit it off well. I admit, I usually don't like Trandoshans but he seemed different. Long story short, he invited me to come along on a flight on the Prayer. I was minding my own business as we're flying over the rocky outcropping there. I'm not sure what happened but he swoops in low and starts firing, so I look at what he's shooting, figuring wampas or something. Nachkt is firing on a group of people that seemed to be chasing someone, or so I thought. I couldn't get a good look.

I peered down into the desert below and had this feeling I knew the lady up front. It was you, but Nachkt was devestating the vehicles and I couldn't tell up from down, but I saw you were in trouble. I waited until we landed, with my limited knowwledge I thought maybe we'd saved you, when I saw who it was, scattered around you..." Dain looks pained and shakes his head. "There was nothing I could but save you... I picked you up off that blasted desert and was calling my droid to bring the Ace so we could put you in the medbay right away. Nachkt convinced me you were still unsafe and that we should leave the area, and we did. Once back on the ship with you in my arms I set you on the table and did my best to help you. I called my ships over to dock with us so I could get you under the medical droid but Nachkt raised a blaster and decided I wasn't leaving with you alive. We almost got into it, I was going to... Well, I had no choice, but he talked me into a peaceful soloution, I had to leave you there with him to be traded to the Empire or we would all die together." Dain takes a deep breath and peers into Ambrosia's eyes hoping to see some understanding, praying she didn't think he'd tried to kill her, or blamed him for the deaths he had nothing to do with.

"I'm so sorry."

Argon raises a brow at the marine's actions. "I am sure nothing will happen. Dain is smart enough to not do anything too stupid." He turns to the other two before leaving, "Your excellency," he says to Ambrosia, "If you need anything, send word." To Dain, he only nods, not entirely sure of what to do at this poitn besides get word to headquarters. With that, he departs the room.

Bomb diffused. For now. Maybe. It's hard to tell what's lurking behind that stony expression bordering on nauseous as Ambrosia stares ahead into the beseeching eyes of the CEO who charms people for a living. There's a strong sense about that she'd still like to hate him. Hit him, at least. The juice tremors in its cup, stability threatened by her unyielding grip on the rolly table.

Finally, after much too awkward a silence, she relents. Relaxes her hold on the cold metal and takes up a fistful of sheet instead, trying to get situated around the bulk of the ball and her own untouchable patches of self. Nothing is comfortable. "...I deem this account of events to be plausible, from your perspective," as though she were the high court! "Less irksome than your assistant's patronizing concern."

Dain is ready for the face full of juice, or a mouthful of fist and he braces for it as it seems Ambrosia's rage is over the boiling point. He closes one eye tight and clenches his teeth, this was going to hurt. But nothing comes. No fist, no juice, no Ambassador beating on his chest in a rage like the holo-films suggest would happen. Dain is left with only guilt, regret and a overpowering need to make it up to the Ambassador. There was no making it up. Dain was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But Ewan Dain is a man of action and he would take it upon himself to do whatever the Ambassador requests. "You're understanding is... Thank you. If I knew then what I do now." He shakes his head again. "What can I do? I can never bring them back, but..."

Nope.

The wordless, hapless look of agreement deepens the sullen gaze melting through Ambrosia's icy facade. It's tiresome, being fierce and bitchy. But sometimes, one must resort to such things to slap the truth out. Settling for a simple droop of frame over the ball, much like her original position prior to this onslaught of stress, she watches him bleakly from around the hunch of shoulder and inflated polymer.

"Disclose a fully, written and recorded account of events transpired to the NRI office. In addition to any pertinent information you have regarding this 'Nachkt'lyysk' of clan Voth. Including his curious sense of obligation regarding the tracking of missing Wookiees..." One brow raises slyly above the lingering tears. Yeah that's right. Seems she wasn't unconscious the /entire/ time on board. Regretably.

Dain listens intently as the Ambassador lays out her request. Dain is all too happy to oblige. He would do everything in his power to right the wrongs he'd been an unwitting stooge in. Ewan Dain doesn't like looking like a stooge. "Of course, I'll have it to them by 0600." Dain shoves a hand through his short hair. He could really use a drink. "How you holdin' up?" He asks the Ambassador. Her health is more important to the man than anything else he's experienced in the last few days since the Disaster on Tatooine. "You've looked better." Dain chuckles but stifles it in the blink of an eye. "You still look great, though." Shut up Dain. "I mean you are a little worse for wear but." SHUT UP DAIN. "..."

* Sigh*

"I know." Ambrosia cuts him off softly, tone carrying with it an edge of warning. "I've felt worse. Look worse. Admittedly it's difficult to recall precisely that 'worse' feeling I'm downplaying this against, but...well. Birthing children, surviving two devastating embassy attacks, Imperial detainment, abduction and detainment by one whom fancies himself a Sith Lord," not to mention what came prior to her induction into the Republic, "I'm sure it's there somewhere, filed away in memory. Presently drowned by this fantastic cocktail," she utters a short, harsh laugh then promptly regrets it as her shoulders jerk.

Dain almost moves in to lay a hand on Ambrosia's shoulder and help her back into bed but he thinks better of it. "Been through all that and here you are, alive and a New Republic Ambassador. I'd say you did pretty well for yourself. I'll tell you what, after you heal, we can have a bonfire on the beach and..." BonFIRE, change the subject! "What I mean to say is I'd like to check in with you once you're out of here, if you want. Just see how you are. If you need anything, really anything let me know. I imagine NR health insurance is pretty good but if you need financial assistance for whatever reason." Dain was batting 0. "Want me to head out? Let you sleep?"

It's almost as painful, listening to the man fumble over himself. Face screwd up in a seemingly permanent wince, Ambrosia nods a little for his benefit and closes her eyes before they can roll. "Don't forget to make a statement. I anticipate they'll keep me another day or two then discharge with instructions. The worst is behind." And a week or so of low stress environemnt ahead, if her beachside home has been prepped and readied yet. Complete with offspring and senile mother. Maybe /not/ stress free. But comforting. Definitely a comfort.

The tall Corellian nods and smiles. He wasn't at his best tonight, and it frustrates him knowing it. He silently gives up on all pretense of making apologies, as he seems to continue to make things worse. Ambrosia was being forgiving though, more than he deserved. "Alright, the report will be done and a full debriefing for NRI in the morning. Thanks for seeing me, and not punching me in the face." Dain chuckles, with a touch less confidence than the Corellian known for. "G'night."

"It'd probably have caused me more pain than you..." Ambrosia grumbles as a means of farewell, laying her head down to face the other way, back to the blockaded window. She remains tensed. Cold. Without real mode of relief until she's lain flat again - later - with sheet drawn up to block the drafts with its flimsy weightlessness.