Initial Setting:
RED Med Bay, some unreasonable time of night.


<Dr_Tailor>: ...

<Dr_Tailor>: idk what is is, you come online and zach just wiggles around in the back of my head like some kid who needs to pee

Dr_Tailor does not need to pee.

<Mree>: Is that... good or bad? Because if it's bad, I AM VERY SORRY D:

<Dr_Tailor>: it's slightly bad for me because letting him interact with people for the sake of it doesn't really ah

<Dr_Tailor>: he knows not to bother ardette.

<Mree>: Everyone knows not to bother Ardette.

Dr_Tailor can't I just hang around and... i dont know. be silently content with being miserable

<Mree>: We do it anyways because it's fun

Dr_Tailor ....not even miserable together just

Dr_Tailor parallel like

<Mree>: And now I'm wracking my brains for reasons to get these two talking again and I'm coming up short

<Mree>: Because they both know better

<Mree>: We must outsmart them.

<Dr_Tailor>: HMM

Dr_Tailor nope

Mree is now known as Ardette

Ardette I'm busy.

<Dr_Tailor>: fuuuuuuuuuu

<Ardette>: Smartasses

Dr_Tailor So am I.

Dr_Tailor Good.

<Ardette>: HNGMRM.

Dr_Tailor Please tell me I don't have to do medical updates or something.



<Dr_Tailor>: ...they really don't want to play, do they. :lc


Ardette knocks on the medbay door anyways.

Dr_Tailor hrhhk

Dr_Tailor doesn't make that noise. He opens the door expecting Harvey or Gladys and blinks a couple times when it really really isn't either of them.

Dr_Tailor "Can I help you...?" Is something on fire and is it my reputation

Ardette stares at him. This isn't right at all. Eberhardt never opens the door, just grunts his permission of entry. And this isn't Eberhardt and this isn't right at all. She tilts her head, eyes narrowed. "This isn't your shift."

Dr_Tailor looks at his watch and very patiently checks it over. "Yyyyes it is, I take late watch." He paces his words like he's wary of picking the wrong one by some horrible slipup. Those are... kind of his forte when people who don't take shit for an answer are present.

Ardette sneers. "What? What time is it?" She leans forward a bit and looks at his watch, too. She then shakes her own watch higher onto her wrist and checks that. She stares at the clockface blankly. Merde alors, it's late. How did she let that happen? She'd ask where the time went, but there's no point when she'll never get it back anyways. "Damn it," she grumbles, letting her hand fall to her side with a soft smack.

The pause that follows doesn't exactly know what to do with itself, but Zach is... you know what? No. No I'm... okay, I am tempted to rub in the fact she's off her game and I'm not, but that would imply I'm not also off my game.

Dr_Tailor tilts his head with a little suspicion. "....aaaaare you okay?"

Stupid question

Ardette does not appreciate the suspicion in his voice and she glares at him from under her brows. "I'm--" she snaps, and then exhales. No, no, don't rise to it, don't acknowledge it, don't give him anyth-- "Tired." Sod it. "And late. Where's Eberhardt?"

Dr_Tailor shakes his head slightly and waves it off, "Yes, ahm. ..." he stops. Where was Eberhardt? This realization causes him to squint a little, though not at Ardette. "I. Dont... actually know. He'd already left before I clocked in." He keeps the pessimist's assumption this is going to be his fault somehow to himself.

Ardette deflates a little. That was unlike him. She leans against the door frame and scoffs. "He'd better be asleep. That's the smart thing to be doing right now." A long pause. She looks down at his shoes but she can still feel his squint... "Right!" She pushes off from the door frame. "Nevermind."

Wait, no - DON'T HESITATE, just chill. You have enough problems, Zach. He stays where he is, still kind of tired but otherwise just on duty and mildly interrupted. Redheaded pyro problems and freckly victim problems and big beardy idiot problems. Shh. "That would be my guess... never mind what?" She needed something? She never comes to the medbay. Especially when he's around.

Ardette sighs and raises her hand to take off her mask-- to find she already took it off when she returned from her sweep of BLU. God, woman, wake up, wake up, wake. up! The gesture turns into an absent rubbing of her temple. "I came to pick up a prescription. The Doktor said he was holding onto it for me."

Dr_Tailor "I won't ask. But you probably need it." Absent-minded face-touching isn't really Ardette's style. Being compliant isn't his either, but last time he got to asking questions about medbay supplies going places, it, ah... you know what, he's not even entertaining that memory.

Ardette stops rubbing her temple and curls her hand into a loose fist hovering uncertainly next to her cheek. "And what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

Eyes closed, he breathes once calmly and rubs his hand at his mouth. No snarking, damnit. please. Just. let me not ... perpetuate this crapfest. being annoying around Ardette wasn't fun. Plus Callahan seemed to get more out of insulting him without also carrying legitimate threats. "It means you look exhausted, I am exhausted, and the longer I talk the more likely I'm going to remember I have a foot in my mouth." It's okay if he insults himself first, right? Or does that make it worse. Hrm.

Ardette glares at him for a few seconds longer... and then snerks. If she can appreciate him for nothing else it's for his strategically-placed honesty. "Then keep talking, and let me in."

Honesty as a tactic is the only tactic he has that works consistently, and it's one he absolutely hates. "...I'm not sure if I'm supposed to reply to that seriously or sarcastically. Do I get to pick?" He gets out of the way of the door.

"Oh," Ardette says breezily, walking past him. "Your choice."

Dr_Tailor wiggles his hands in a baaaaaarely contained gesture of glee, kind of out-of-sight. "Oh, goodies." you know what? Between being a complete ass and being a complete medical wreck, he is too tired to muster up anything creatively worse right now.

Ardette looks over her shoulder at him. "That's it? That's your reply?" She shakes her head and mutters: "Disappointing." She walks straight towards Eberhardt's desk, hoping he left her package someplace obvious. She would happily go rummaging for it herself. She would not so happily have Zach giving her a hard time about it.

Dr_Tailor contrary to past indications, the man does learn sometimes. "I said I was tired. I know what.... no. no. I'm not bringing up last time medication was a topic. Do you want coffee?" He clearly has no idea what to do besides let her, uh. Do whatever the hell she wants.

Ardette wrinkles her nose. "And when was the last time medication was a topic? Oh--" she adds, distracted, pausing with Eberhardt's top drawer half-open, "Yes, please."

Dr_Tailor tactfully leaves the question unanswered. He wasn't going to ask her just what she was looking for anyway. He was too tired to snoop, and the reasons of a) to know his patients better and b) know his enemies better don't apply here. Paying attention to the coffee was more important. "Right on, then."

There's nothing but the sounds of desk drawers scraping open and thunking shut, and a huff here and there when she doesn't find her item immediately. Eberhardt's desk is organized and regimented, as always, but there are still traces of his presence there: notes written in a hurried scrawl, an empty but clean coffee mug, and a few pencils pocked with indents where he chewed on the ends, a habit he's picked up since he stopped smoking. "Aah, I remember, now," she drawls, smiling down at the pencils. "You thought I was stealing."

Theeeere's that familiar little pit in his stomach. He knew he was kidding himself if he thought his coffee wasn't going to come with kicking himself served in it, but whatever. The coffee pot's puttering as it brewed at least made for a better backdrop than no noise at all. "I didn't know you then. We were losing a lot of little things to greedy hands at the time." His words are glossed over with the hum of someone trying to remain impartial.

Ardette hums knowingly and nods. "Yes, and I'm a spy, my hands are the greediest of all." Even as she says this, she's still going through Eberhardt's desk, looking right at home there. She opens the bottom-most drawer and bobs her eyebrows. Found you! She pulls a small, misshapen package wrapped in brown paper out of the drawer and glances up at Zach. "Did you think I was a drug abuser, Dr. Tailor?" She says it calmly, in neutral tones that make it no longer a question, but whatever it is, it's clearly loaded.

The familiarity of her motions does not pass unnoticed. He leans against the countertop, turning to face her with elbow planted and hand hanging slack. "I think you were sneaking an awful lot, but such is your job. Do you like watching me squirm over old news?" He has no fire to his words, it's rote practice. Any liveliness to be had is currently dribbling into the coffeepot.

Dr_Tailor actually chuckles, once, just to himself. It's more of a sad little protest than a laugh.

Ardette nudges the drawer closed with her shin and then leans against the corner of Eberhardt's desk. "I get some satisfaction from it, yes," she admits, undoing the twine from the package. They haven't seen the worst of each other, but they've gotten pretty damn close, and this has given them a strange familiarity that she frankly is too tired to contest. She pulls a weathered-looking flask out from the packaging and tosses it to him.

Good thing he's still attentive when tired, his gesture snaps quickly, snatching the little bottle. Peering at the label, he recognizes the contents quickly enough and catches himself looking up at that little neck scarf. That's not what she needed way back at teufort. The argument is irrelevant considering she just handed him an answer to a question he hadn't voiced. "...It does make a difference." he nods a little. That sounded more like personal experience than medical. He wonders if she'd let it lie or pry.

Ardette scoffs - oh, don't patronize me, Tailor - and drums her fingers on the desk. She glances down and moves an errant pencil over to line up with its friends. "It smells good. That's about all it does."

Dr_Tailor grins at the bottle rather than her, and mimics her gesture tossing it back to her. "Hehh, so don't use it!" Always a big fun being reminded the only reason anyone's honest with you is because the bone you've just been thrown is completely inconsequential. "..." Asking her how bad the scar is would just be stupid. So would sharing anything personal. This is... he looks at the coffeepot. Not yet. He sighs softly. At least he's smiling again.

Ardette catches it with both hands. She smirks to herself and leans aginst the corner of Eberhardt's desk, rolling the bottle between her palms. Perhaps she still uses it because she trusts Eberhardt. Perhaps she still uses it because she can picture the man's disappointment if he ever learns she isn't. Perhaps she uses it because it's more than Ballard has ever offered. Whatever the reason is, even if it never works, it's become part of her routine. She imagines perhaps that's what religion is like for some people. The thought makes her tilt her head back and chuckle. "Is that your official prescription? Go to hell."

Dr_Tailor inhales through a grin, his teeth adding an audible hiss to it as he stares up at the ceiling. He walked right into that. Damnit, she's just being difficult on purpose and he knows damn well that's all he's ever done. He considers whether it would be more satisfying watching him point that out and be just as guilty, or watching him stand there unable to reply in an effort to not step in said guilt. "Ohh, my feelings are hurt." he chimes in this tiny little laugh.

Ardette quickly tames her chuckles to a low hum. "You'll live." As the coffeemaker putters dutifully in the background, she pops the cork from the bottle and lifts it to her nose. She expects the sweet, floral scent of rosa rubiginosa oil, but it smells acrid and sharp in the cold air of the medbay, mingling with antiseptic and plaster. "O'hannigan seems well," she remarks, corking the bottle again.

Dr_Tailor rides the amusement through as long as he can, "Yea, that seems to be the worst punishment I get dealt these days." He wouldn't stick his own nose so close to that bottle. Maybe he's just used to the results being unpleasant when it comes to medical goods. Something wrenches when she shoves the conversation back on him, he holds it from showing. Drops some of the smile though. "Beside a few milder headaches, he's... been remarkably so." He's trying to gauge her reason for the topic choice.

Ardette sets the bottle down and perches herself on the corner of the desk properly, crossing her legs and getting comfortable. They've by now passed the point either of them could choose to leave without that damn coffee. She raises her eyebrows at his choice of words. "'Remarkably,'" she says, and then nods. Remarkable. "Has he been cleared to fight?"

Dr_Tailor puffs a breath, looking at the fucking coffee pot like it's either the clock, or at fault. Almost ready. As much as he cares not for Christmas he might just ask for a gift replacement. He looks at a scuffmark on the tile floor for a second. "Quite some time ago... not my choice, but. He was fit for duty physically." He couldn't argue a psychological counterpoint with so many basket cases to compare with. Looking up, she seems oddly content to park herself here and just watch him. Ardette, are you asking for Harvey's sake, or just prying into my rationale? "...sorry about the coffee. Maybe that's the real punishment." He knows the topic of choice isn't over with yet but he says that all the same.

Ardette waves off his apology. She's approaching 29 hours awake, and she can wait a few more minutes for a cup of coffee. That, and she was hoping his attempts to change the subject would be less obvious. "One could argue that's a good thing." Indeed, Harvey's been lively enough; a bit subdued, but otherwise nothing in his personality had changed: still insufferably polite and optimistic to boot. "I'm just curious. I haven't heard from him, or you," she nods to him, "...about contacting his family. He seems content, recovering... Will he ever?"

Oh, shit almighty, she is trying to care. He doesn't know what to... do... with ... unless this is some weird attempt at making amends, but that also doesn't give him any indicator on how the hell he should respond. "Amelie had him writing home for some time... he still does. No, ah. No truth to it concerning his 'job'. I don't know why they haven't come picked him up yet, suppose others in his family work away from home too...." Will he ever? A flit of expression to his posture and he doesn't want to be there. It's gone again. Resignation? Stubbornness maybe. "I don't know."

Ardette glances away at the mention of Amelie; the use of her first name is too familiar, too private, and she remembers now that Harvey and Amelie Sinclaire had been an item. Christ, first his girlfriend gets killed, then the surgery... If he recovers completely, Ardette couldn't predict if he should cut his losses and go home, or if the boy would be ruined enough to be right at home here. "Well," she sighs graciously, linking her fingers. "I suppose we let him decide. I won't do anything until he does."

Tongue to his teeth awkwardly, he nods once softly, again a little more as she speaks. "That's been my stance on it this whole time, and he's been here a year longer than I have." The coffee machine clicks, finally having gotten off its behind to make these two something drinkable. "I think it's been nearly... three years for him? Fucking hell." The last words are quieter. He grabs two mugs from the cupboard, tucked up top far enough from spare bedsheets and such to not seem weird.

Ardette eyes him from across the room. She really is curious as to Harvey's well-being, but that isn't the only reason she brings it up; Zach is as protective to Harvey as Eberhardt is to her, and significantly more defensive about it. When the conversation turns to the scout, it's harder for him to hide from her. "Three years and five months..." She looks at the calendar. "Yesterday." She remembers well the first new batch of recruits since her own arrival at RED, the people with whom the convenient rumor would start that she'd been there forever.

Dr_Tailor mouths the word yesterday, yes. He's a creeper for data, too. Though this kind of puts him off wanting his coffee. He pours it anyway, gets a tiny box of sugarcubes down from the cupboard too, gestures to it. "You want any of these? I'm sorry I can't..." he stops and breathes. Looks calm. Pensive as his eyes saccade between his mug and whatever important thoughts are in his head. "What is it you want from me. I understand your concerns for Harvey, and I agree, but I can't address those with answers until he voices a decision." He wonders if she realizes how long he's been awake. Hopefully she wouldn't timestamp that like she did just now with Harvey's career here.

And Zach's biggest misconception here is that Ardette's trying to drag anything specific out of him at all. He probably won't ever understand that she does it just to see some honesty out of him, something novel, because she'll never tell him that. "From you?" She dips her chin and gives him an incredulous look. He suddenly seems too overcome to face her and this annoys her more than anything else. Calm down, man. She stands up and walks to the counter, taking one of the mugs. "Coffee. That's it."

Dr_Tailor was mildly aware he was using the coffee as an excuse to face the other way, but he's been through enough shit lately that he needs a break from being prodded. He looks back, looks her in the eye then as she gets her silly coffee. Congratulations, you've found tired honesty from an honestly tired man hiding here. "Mmkay." There's a sort of... a reluctant admittance of kindness as he pours the coffee for both. "It's too damn late for me to try to play verbal games is all. I don't know. I'm just too used to you picking me apart." No offense. He's not entirely sure why or where he's going with this.

Ardette nods in thanks and just cups the mug in her hands, letting it warm her palms. She knows a thing or two about too-damn-late, so the accusation doesn't impress her much. "Quoi, do you think I give you special treatment?"

Dr_Tailor "No." he stirs his own coffee and manages to burn his tongue on the spoon.

Dr_Tailor "I think I make it difficult on purpose and most people go away at that point."

Ardette furrows her brows at him from over her mug. "I meant, the picking you apart."

Dr_Tailor stops, hovering over his mug in hand with a soft inhale. "...probably not. I don't think I've socialized enough or seen you socialize enough to really gauge that fairly." The grin's still missing, but the hint of mockery of the both of them is there as always.

All's fair when you knock yourself down a peg too, right?

Ardette smirks to herself. What a diplomatic response. She forces them into silence for long enough to plunk probably one too many sugar cubes in her steaming mug, and then to cross the room and retrieve her bottle of oil. "Well, I do," she says. She raises her mug to him. "Thank you for the coffee." She leaves, coffee in hand.

Dr_Tailor "wh-" she tactically saved that reply for being right by the door and she's gone. DAMNIT. He clunks his mug down on the countertop and pokes his head out the doorway soon after "The hell's that supposed to mean??" if she's even there to reply. Doesn't look that way.

Dr_Tailor is grinning from ear to ear out of surprise though