i got the feeling that something ain't right [OPEN/CLOSED]

[circumitus]

Who: Rey and You!
What: Deathclaw tango and the aftermath, along with maybe any other general whatnots for the month of July. ¯\(°_°)/¯
Where: The City, Rey and Nick Valentine's Home (House 1401), wherever your heart's desire.
When: Post-Intro log.
Warnings: Violence, language, and mostly violence.

---

I. The City [OPEN]

It's that time of month again. Equipped with her Exurosuit, Rey is already prepped when she heads out. Though seemingly unarmed (she had been training with the sword, but wouldn't nearly consider herself adept enough with the weapon to feel confident bringing one into combat), she isn't what you would consider helpless.

Some things not even Rey can prepare for, however. She doesn't get the chance to make it to the Colosseum, before halfway there she is stopped by the sound of an animal growl. And not belonging to something fluffy and/or cute.

She ignores it at first, attempting to act like casual, unsuspecting prey. Having been here long enough, she's since anticipated the appearance of new creatures accompanying the arrivals.

What she couldn't anticipate was the walking death machine skulking the city streets.

Rey doesn't move, gawking at the creature for a moment. It isn't much different from the others she had contended with here, but something about it screams more predatory and deadly than anything like overgrown spiders or chests with teeth.

Perhaps it's the sword-like claws, which it bears with a threatening poise as it locks its red eyes on Rey. She isn't going anywhere, the legs of her sturdy armor holding her in place as she gaps at the creature. If she runs, it'll surely follow. If she fights, who knows if it'll be something she can tackle on her own?

Before she has the chance to calculate such a gamble, the black and scaly beast sprints towards her on its massive hinds. It's a lot faster than it looks. Rey stumbles back, curling her fingers into fists as she braces herself for impact. It makes a clean swipe towards her head. No doubt it would have lobbed her skull clean off her shoulders in a matter of seconds just then, had she been a hair slower. She stumbles back, nearly tripping over her own feet when the beast is quick to recover and swings its massive arm again.

This time, its colossal claws tear into the chest of her armor. This sends her reeling backwards, crashing her sideways into one of the walls of the building.

"Der'mo," Rey curses under her breath, tasting blood in her mouth from where she had bit the inside of her cheek. She rolls in time before the creature can lunge towards her, cornering her up against the wall.

The light indicators of her armor flare up then, as she turns and faces the creature. Many times before had she gone up against synthetic creations much larger and greater in numbers than this. She had combated whole platoons to a battalion of soldiers who were trying to kill her.

This? She can do.

Heatwaves ripple in the air around her, as the light indicators on her armor brighten. Sparks inspire flames, casting at the tip of her fingers. She can do this. She just has to be ready, and hope like hell that no defenseless individual finds themselves cast into the middle.

II. Home (House 1401) [CLOSED to Nick Valentine]

Pieces of armor peel off as Rey staggers through the front door of the place she calls home. Bruises riddle her arms and chest. Cuts and scratches and gashes pour blood down the side of her face, a trickle dribbling from the corner of her lip. The metallic taste fills her mouth as she collapses into the couch, not caring to change out of her underclothes before dropping her armor on the coffee table.

"Think you could've been a little more help?" she says aloud to no one in particular, and no one answers in return. Rey's head tilts back against the cushion of the couch, staring up at the ceiling with blurry vision. She squints, shaking the senses back into her.

Though no one had answered her rather specific query, the response of Safronov's echo, the Russian sniper she had once been, seems to scoff at her from the recesses of her mind.

Rey huffs, bringing a bruised hand up over her eyes. "You've no room to talk."

She doesn't know if Nick is around to hear her speak with the ghosts that live in her head. It isn't something she is oft to do unless she's alone, at the risk of looking like a crazy person talking to voices that so rarely talk to her back.

It's probably better that way, anyway. Though it had been those echoes that helped retain Rey's sanity during those long weeks of isolation at the sky prison, she can't imagine the impression her old habits would leave on anyone who isn't aware.

"Fuck you, too," she mutters to the smug, silent phantom.

III. Wildcard

[ooc: I might add more prompts as they come to me, but feel free to hit me up if you want to do something or choose your own adventure here!]

Comments

II.

[synthedick]

It's late when Nick finally makes it home, but he's lucky he made it home at all.

It was lucky for others that he'd been at the Colosseum. Despite the fact he'd told Rey he'd stay out of the fray that usually accompanied those brought through the Door, he couldn't help but get involved when he saw what monsters made it into the city.

Deathclaws. Of all the Commonwealth's horrors, it had to be the ones the size of a tank that packed enough punch to easily bring down an entire group of settlers, raiders, or even a Brotherhood patrol -- whichever was unfortunate enough to come across one. He'd only seen them up-close when with a few others, and they'd usually known better than tangling with the gargantuan beasts; when he was alone, he'd kept his distance from the creatures, deciding some things were not worth risking life and limb over.

There was no option this time -- he had a job to do, and there were people who needed help. They had no idea what they were up against. And so he'd pulled out his pistol and fired a few rounds at one's face. The bullets hardly made a dent, but they got its attention, and that was good enough.

Nick was also lucky, at that moment, that he's a synth. He had a few close calls as he kept distracting the beast, his glowing eyes watching the rest of the Colosseum. Some people escaped, running to safety; others fought more deathclaws that wandered the arena, keeping those who couldn't defend themselves safe from harm. There were too many to handle them all -- once he had a moment, he'd run for himself. He just hoped the repaired connection in his leg held out.

It did: Rey did a good job. Hopefully, she could do the same for the rest of him.

There was only so long he could dodge the beast, evading its horns as it charged, ducking under its swings, avoiding the lashing tail that followed behind it. Eventually, it managed to catch him, its massive hand slamming into his side, its claws cutting through his coat as though it were made of paper. Nick was knocked off his feet, flipping like a rag doll as he tumbled across the ground and landed in a heap. The deathclaw pounced to him, upon him in an instant -- it picked him up with one hand, its sharp claws glistening as they pinned his right arm to his side, feral madness in its eyes as it stared him down.

As Nick struggled in its grasp, his gun lying on the ground below him, he thought it would impale him right there, as he'd seen the do to others. He could picture, in that second that it held him in the air, his middle being torn apart, mechanical innards spilling as his primary processor lost power. He'd helped others, people he didn't recognize, newcomers to the city with no idea what they'd been thrown into... but at what cost?

But Nick Valentine was lucky. Instead of stabbing him through, it grabbed his free arm and pulled.

He'd only been vaguely aware he'd been tossed again, barely recalled a second deathclaw arriving and knocking him from the first. Things got hazy when he hit the ground as the two beasts started fighting, forgetting about the ruined synth lying only a few feet away. He couldn't say how long he was out, but by the time his systems rebooted from their emergency shutdown, the monstrous creatures were gone. They must have thought he was dead.

Hell, he'd thought he was dead too. But as he picked himself off the ground -- literally, in this case -- and tried to ignore the warning messages blaring through him, he realized how lucky he was. He might not be so lucky next time.

And so it's late by the time he limps toward the home he shares with Rey. His coat is in tatters, his mechanical body trembling with each step, his left arm completely torn from him... but at least he's coming home.

[circumitus]

The least Rey can say is that she made it back with all of her limbs intact. Which is more than what one could claim for Nick when he approaches the steps to their humble abode that belated evening.

Rey's head snaps in the direction of the front door, her mind immediately torn from her thoughts and the phantoms that plague her when she hears someone outside. It had been a while since she last saw Nick. Since that morning, if she recalled right. While Rey had been holding her own, she hoped like hell that Nick would have better luck than she did. It was the only thing keeping her from going back out there in her current state.

But now, she can't help but worry if her hope had been misplaced. That perhaps she should've been out there despite her injuries, looking for him and keeping an eye out for others.

Hand grasping over her ribcage when she stands up, Rey hobbles towards the door. She doesn't need to give him a once over before an expression of abject horror washes over her face.

"Nick?!"

He looks to be in even worse shape than herself, for one thing. She rushes forward, ready to take his remaining arm and help him inside.

They can nag at each other over their folly later on. Right now, she's more concerned with the fact that her roommate looks like he's on the verge of a literal shutdown at any second.

[synthedick]

Nick doesn't even bother holding onto his disconnected arm as Rey opens the door; he drops it at the threshold, using the hand he still has to hold on to the frame of the door. Even in his damaged state, he can tell Rey is straining herself to help him in -- she's injured, too.

He leans back onto his own legs, declining her help for the second. It seems the deathclaws weren't kind to either of them. "I can walk," he utters as he stumbles to the easy chair, his voice modulating unsteadily as his body keeps trying to run through emergency diagnostics, his mechanical systems fighting against his stubborn nature.

[circumitus]

As Nick makes his way inside, Rey steps out of his path and lets him walk. But not without her trailing beside him, making sure that he makes it to the chair without collapsing into a heap.

She doesn't immediately go to sit back down, hovering over him instead. She glances to the arm he just dropped, and then back to Nick. There's no point in asking him what happened, since she figures his answer is probably going to be the same as hers.

Rey moves to shut the front door that she neglected a moment ago, not wanting to risk any unwanted visitors coming inside. Once that's done, her arm instinctively curls over her ribs again when she turns to him.

"Are you okay? You look like you just walked through a grinder."

[synthedick]

"You've seen better days yourself," he cuts back, sliding into the chair. He gets a prompt to shut down certain systems to conserve power -- no, bad idea. Don't do that.

He straightens up in the chair as he continues, motioning for her to take a seat on the couch. "Those things that came through the Door are from my neck of the woods. Deathclaws. Got to say the name is appropriate."

[circumitus]

Yes, Nick. Rey has seen worse days than this, too. Don't turn this back on her.

At his gesture, she just stumbles a step back, shaking her head. He's clearly in worse state than she is. Her injuries can wait. His...

She has to take care of this, and fast.

"Shit. You actually know what those things are?" Rey says as she goes to limp towards her room. Grab any tools and whatever she can find that'll help.

[synthedick]

"Yeah. Seen 'em take out people wearing power armor, too." His eyes follow Rey as she heads for her room, her gait as unsteady as his; he sighs, wishing she'd rest. He'll survive. "Not—"

There's a pause where he ignores that prompt a second time.

"Not, uh... something you want to mess with. I know what I said about taking it easy, but they're bad news. More than people realize, even back home. I had to help."

[circumitus]

That isn't surprising. Judging by the strength she felt when she had been tossed aside like a sack of flour, those bastards really pack a lot of heat. And that's coming from someone whose skin literally generates fire.

"It's fine. It could've happened to anyone." Meaning that Rey isn't going to get pissed at Nick for putting his life on the line this time. No one could've anticipated this, least of all him.

Rey removes her hand from her chest to grab a box of everything she's sure she needs. She grinds her teeth, hobbling back into the living area. Her fingers tighten over the box edges until her knuckles whiten.

This time, she actually does sit down, after setting the box on the floor. And it's a sweet relief when she does let herself rest.

Too bad it's only temporary.

"Other than the obvious, what are the more immediate issues you're dealing with? Should probably look at those first."

[synthedick]

"I think I'd prefer it if you took a load off," he admits, his gaze trailing to her, face wrinkling with concern. "But at least you're in one piece. That's more than I can say for me."

He holds back an additional comment, knowing how seriously she is taking this. For as worried as he is about her, she's probably just as worried about him. He's taken a lot of damage over the years, but getting up close and personal with a deathclaw is going right to the top of the list when it comes to the worst incidents.

"I think some wires are crossed with the main processor and battery," he answers. There's no time to be proud, and no sense in worrying her further by being stubborn. They have to trust one another. "I'm getting some error messages about conserving power. Probably doesn't help that my systems can't find my damn arm."

[circumitus]

Rey scoffs at Nick's comment about her taking a load off. "Sorry, not happening."

But he's right. She's the one that's in one piece. He isn't. And Nick looks like he's almost on his way out if left untended. Rey can last a good long while in her condition before it gets anything serious. After all, she was built to last, and has withstood far worse beatings.

Nodding, she starts digging through the contents of the box, grabbing for everything she needs.

"Got it. I'll see about reattaching the arm once I take care of the processor and battery issue. Suppose that's going to involve opening you back up again."

Which should give Nick his cue on what she expects him to do while she finishes grabbing whatever she needs. She can keep her focus for the time being, so long as she has something to focus on. Right now, it's Nick.

[synthedick]

Nick takes that cue, wearily getting to his feet. While he's not fond of shedding the clothes that identify him as who he is -- of the person he wants to be -- there's no room for modesty at the moment, especially not when he's getting warnings of an imminent power failure. The coat slides off his shoulders and remaining arm easily, falling into the seat behind him without the slightest bit of his usual care. The buttons on the front of his shirt are the worst part: he only has his bare hand left, and even with the nodes on the ends of the fingers, he struggles to finagle the buttons through the holes.

There's a moment where he freezes, the lights behind his eyes flickering. He snaps back to awareness a second later, but it's a moment long enough that someone perceptive might have noticed. The involuntary twitch that accompanies his recovery is even more obvious.

He swears under his breath and yanks at the shirt, tearing those last three buttons. He's going to have to sew the rips in the side that made it through his coat, as well as put the sleeve back on. What's one more task?

[circumitus]

To no one's surprise, Rey is that perceptive. She gives a start when Nick flickers out for the tiniest moment. Brief that it may be, her eyes don't leave his, almost as though, if she looks away for merely a second, her friend just may give up the ghost then and there.

She could easily foresee Nick's trouble before he goes for the buttons. Wrestling with clothing one-handed would be a challenge to anyone, even without the skeletal fingers. But before she can reach out to help, he's torn the remaining ones off in a fit of frustration.

Okay. That works, too.

"You need to take a seat. Now. This isn't something you can put off." As she says this, she drags over a chair from the table. It'll be easier for him to sit there while she works on whatever is wrong.

[synthedick]

"Yeah," he agrees instantly, not bothering to put up a fight when he knows he's in trouble. "The thing knocked me down hard at one point. Guessing a—"

Another pause -- no, don't redirect power. No wait, do. Do whatever needs to be done to keep his memories intact. Shit.

"— a, uh. Wire got clipped or something got knocked out of place."

He takes the seat she offers him, managing to get that undershirt off with only one hand. He's trying to stay calm for Rey's sake -- he knows good and well she's probably not as cool as she currently appears, all of her focus on keeping him running -- but he's starting to realize the gravity of his injuries with every warning his synthetic body gives him.

[circumitus]

His frequent flicking in and out is more than worrisome, and Nick's intuition would once again be on the mark. Rey really isn't as calm as she's making herself out to be. It's difficult enough just to focus with her injuries, to keep inhaling without worrying him in return. If he suspects even for a second that something serious is wrong with her, he'll try putting this off in favor of taking care of her own damned self. And she can't have that. Not one bit.

Trying to level her coarse breathing for now, she wills her hands to stay still long enough for her to work them into opening up the panel in Nick's now-exposed back.

"I'll look into it. You should try putting yourself into a low power state or something while I do this, just in case. Don't want you shorting out while I'm working these wires."

Yes. He needs to conserve his energy, anyway.

[synthedick]

Silent for the moment, Nick nods, leaning forward just a little so Rey can have easier access to the panels on his back. He would put himself into a low-power state, but his mind is working overtime, the gears in his head turning when what he should be thinking of is conserving every bit of power he has. He can't help it, though: it's what most humans would do when faced with their own mortality.

One advantage he's had over the original Valentine is knowing what he is and never quite considering himself to be as human as he feels. It made it easier to accept the fact that one day, his time would run out. His gears would wear down to the point of no return, his battery would fail to charge, or hell, maybe a deathclaw would rip off a limb and critically damage both his frame and his wiring. Whatever his end, he'd been ready for it for some time -- not looking forward to it or anything, but ready if it came nonetheless. He's done some good in what time he's had, and hopefully made the world just a little better for those still be living in it.

But that had been before, when he hadn't had someone who really depended upon him -- maybe for a brief moment during a case, where he had to protect a client, but not like Rey. Not like this.

That error message comes up again, and he can't help but wonder what she'll do if he can't be repaired... or worse, if he can, but the Institute put in more fail-safes. There might have been another prototype out there he didn't know about, a brother he may have murdered. There's plenty that's still a mystery even to him, and there could always be more. He's seen the earlier model synths when they're on their last legs: they have a habit for going out with a bang, literally.

Shit. The things that come to mind when there might not be much time left to use it.

"Rey," he starts quietly. His voice is unsteady not from his body's struggle to stay online for just a moment longer, but because of the regret rising in him -- regret and fear. He hadn't been afraid of death -- what death a synth could have -- before, but now he was, if only because he was afraid for her. She doesn't want to be alone. "Just in case this doesn't wo—"

[critical error]
> shutting down...

The light behind Nick's eyes flickers out, and he slips forward from the chair, crashing onto the coffee table before him, the dead weight of his metal frame nearly breaking it upon impact.

[circumitus]

That fear is very real in Nick's tones when Rey hears him speak. She doesn't want to say anything, or hear him say or do anything that may end up wasting whatever energy he has left.

It's all too little too late, when Nick cuts off mid-sentence and topples forward like a broken doll. Before she can even grab for him, he's on the floor.

"Shit, no!" Rey yells, bolting to Nick's side on the floor. She places a hand over his shoulder, checking to see if she can feel any sign of functionality in his body, but senses that he's gone into a full system shutdown. "Don't you fucking do this..."

Rather than flipping him over to try and wake him up in vain, she hurries to work. First placing Nick on the floor so that she can kneel beside him, and then use whatever tools she has to lift open the panel in his back. Once his inner clockwork is exposed, she takes but a few seconds to re-familiarize herself with the mechanical setup.

Body aching and breath harsh, Rey gathers a moment to squeeze her eyes shut and focus. Pain erupts in her body; the damage taken from the deathclaw suddenly hitting her as she attempts to get started.

"Need you to work with me," she gasps, speaking to what would seem to be no one in particular. But in her head, she's gathering the knowledge of the personality that has an infinitely better idea on what to do here. Her eyes snap back open, understanding the display in front of her as she leans over Nick's open back. It's different from what she's used to, but a machine is a machine. Once you have the basics down, it doesn't take much more to discern what goes where and the function it serves.

It takes time. She can't rush this, and she has to remain calm. Wrong slips and shortcuts can lead to sloppy work, and Nick deserves better than that. He deserves better than going out this way in this damned pisspit of a city, with there being no certainty whether or not Hope is even capable of bringing him back with no ill effects. And as much as Nick claimed to be fine with his mortality, Rey isn't ready to let him go.

What a goddamned hypocrite she is, but it's an ugly flaw she's willing to live with if it can get Nick up and running again. This isn't about her, anyway. Hell, in a way it isn't even about him. It's about doing what needs to be done, because the world is already chalked full of shitty people. People who would no sooner leave their own mother to the flies, let alone help a synthetic. Rey has no right to judge, in any case; she knows that there are fragments of her being that makes her just as rotten. And that's why she has to do this. Has to help preserve what little good she has in this wretched life she's got. Lord knows she only has so many...

With what little she has in her box, she uses to replace whatever damage she can find inside Nick's workings. A frayed wire here, a fried circuit there. Taking out bits and pieces of broken equipment and putting the Tin Man back together again. She can do this. She has the memories, and the memories can walk her through it, tell her not to panic, not to scream, not to shake at the risk of damaging the interior even further. She even refrains from making a crude comment or two, not wanting to break her concentration from the connection she's maintaining in her own mess of a mind.

It's a rough patch-up job, but that's the most that anyone can expect, given the situation and timing and the fact that sometimes her vision blurs. Not even Rey's box of spare parts is enough this time, as she'd surely have to request for additional pieces to get Nick running at one hundred percent. But, hell, she'd be happy just to get him up and running at all.

Once she's finished, she leans back and coughs. She brings her arm over her mouth and coughs again, harsher this time. Stifling an all out fit, she reaches down with her other hand and completes the finishing touches.

From here, it's the waiting game. A little bit of tinkering, and pray that she can get the synth booted up again. She doesn't close up the panel just yet. Not until she knows that it's over.

That's right. Finish what you started.

[synthedick]

The deathclaw had indeed done more than rattle Nick's insides: wires that were already falling apart from age had split and frayed as he'd been tossed around the arena, and rusted mechanisms that somehow still managed to turn were dented and knocked askew from the creature's grasp. The claws that had torn through his clothes had made it to his synthetic skin, leaving marks and rips along his side, but only managing to shred a few of the wires to his leg beneath. There were support rods and tubes that were bent, some cracked beyond simple repair.

But it could have been worse. The metal plating around his primary processor, while it had a few new scuffs and dings, had protected the device inside, and though his body had taken a beating, his head and synthetic brain were nearly untouched by the deathclaw's assault. And on top of that, he lived with a woman who had the mind of an engineer crammed into her brain, someone with enough know-how to assess his state and maybe put him back into some kind of functioning order. Valentine was indeed a lucky man.

And that's the first thing on his mind when his system finally does reboot. It takes several minutes for his processor to run through its emergency diagnostics, checking for the bare minimum of what he needs to be brought around. It whirrs and ticks quietly, scanning for the necessary components. Eventually, his body twitches slightly as a current runs through him. There's a spark from left side where his arm used to be, life coming back into the body as his eyes light up.

They narrow as Nick blinks a few times, his brow furrowing in confusion as he tries to sort through the ongoing processes in his head. He attempts to pick himself up; his remaining arm shakes from the effort, prompting him to stick to the floor for now. "R... Rey? What happened?"

Given what he can see of Rey and her tools from his vantage on the floor, he already knows the answer to that. So much for not making her worry.

[circumitus]

Relief should have washed over Rey the instant life springs back into Nick's once-lifeless body. Grateful that she is to see him at least sitting upright and asking her questions, she can't help but worry if all she did was borrow more time for him.

Rey opens her mouth to reply, only for another cough to escape. She lurches forward, holding in another series of coughs until the need subsides. Her throat scratches when she sucks in a wheezy inhale, trying to hold herself. Nick has to worry about keeping himself going. Not her.

"System shutdown. Had to restore connection to the power to get you... to get you back online," she tells him, her voice raspy when she speaks. "Should run some diagnostics. Maintenance on the cooling and..."

And that's all that she can get out. Her shoulders tuck inward as her hand covers her mouth.

[synthedick]

Still booting up or not, Nick reacts immediately as Rey curls up, what energy she had spent on trying to get him back online. He grits his teeth -- he can be relieved he's alive and frustrated with himself all at once later. From the way she's coughing, she might have some internal damage, and there's no blessing from the gods to help her this time.

He pushes himself off the ground with his remaining hand, wishing he had another to help her up. Still, he extends the one he's got. "Come on, Rey," he insists, obviously not running diagnostics. "We either need to get you to a doctor, or get a doctor over here."

[circumitus]

Unlike Nick, Rey can't run a full system scan to see what's wrong with her. That would have defeated the whole purpose of allowing her to often live without the knowledge that she wasn't human. Whatever the damage is, though, she can sense it in her chest. Nothing like a collapsed lung or major organ damage, but still not something that she can simply ignore. And yet...

"Will be fine." She shakes her head, letting out a shaky exhale. "Have survived worse than this. Just need to rest."

After the beatings she had taken and several blows to the head too many, sleep is sadly the last thing she should be doing.

[synthedick]

Nick would say the same for himself, except that he hasn't survived worse than what the deathclaw did to him. That's the closest he's come to death as a synth. He watches the way she breathes, how she holds her ribs, his frustration clear on his face. He doesn't want to lose her any more than she wants to lose him, and the fact that she had to deal with an emergency like his system shutting down from a power failure when she should be getting medical attention just riles him. Maybe she would have gone and gotten it sooner if he hadn't suddenly blacked out.

He shakes his head, his expression hardening. "Then rest on the couch, but we're getting a doctor over here whether you like it or not. I'll go get one myself if I have to."

[circumitus]

Much as Rey would love to argue, Nick's suggestion does sound enticing when she wants nothing more than to close her eyes a while. But now that she's got Nick up and running again, she also wants to make sure that he doesn't shut back down.

How stupid for the both of them to be in the identical predicament for the same (different) reasons.

Not wanting to cause more strain on her already bruised muscles, Rey ducks her head.

"All right," she says after a brief silence. "Just... don't ask me to go to the clinic. Won't make it that far."

The clinic isn't a terrible distance from their house, but it's far enough in Rey's condition that it may as well be halfway across the world.

[synthedick]

"I'm not sure either of us would," he utters. His power is back on for the time being, but it's definitely a patchy fix, one scraped together out of desperation. This crisis is not what Rey needs right now.

Nick takes a step toward the couch, but he's not walking so well, either. The dented parts and damaged wiring in his side that trail down to the limb make up one item on a long list of fixes he's going to need to get back into any kind of working order. Putting pressure on it brings up an error; there's a jolt through him as his processor tries to send power to it, but with the wires barely hanging on, he might as well be getting nothing at all.

The rest of him is powered up enough, though -- there's another spark from where he arm was, and the shock sets off a multitude of his sensors at once. The sensation is obviously unpleasant as he grabs at the ruined socket. "Damn!"

He collapses back into the easy chair, trying to dig his phone out of his pocket, knowing good and well he's not going anywhere, either.

[circumitus]

Just when she feels like she's fading out at any second, Rey whips her head in Nick's direction at his exclamation. Her heart gives a jerk at the thought that, if anything were to happen to him right then, there wouldn't be much she could do about it. She can barely move, and what little she can do involves a world of hurt.

Seeing him struggle with his phone, Rey holds up a hand before pushing herself onto her feet. Her posture is broken, like she's got a two-ton weight holding her down on one side. She wipes some of the damp blood down her chin from the open cut in her lip.

"Take it easy." She's quiet, unable to raise her voice above a murmur.

Rey is so out of focus right now that she doesn't trust herself to deal with the wirings in order to reattach Nick's severed limb. She limps towards Nick's arm, ignoring the twinge in her muscles when she moves to scoop it up off the floor with one hand and place it over the nearly broken coffee table.

She looks at him with a weary smile. It's about the most comfort she can offer in her current disposition. "Will get someone over here. Then I'll take care of your arm. Okay?"

[synthedick]

Nick watches Rey as she gathers up his arm, his eyes focusing on the way she carries herself, his metal hand tightening on his shoulder in frustrated defeat. He wants to help her, but there's not much he can do. He can't pick her up and carry her to the clinic, certainly not while he's missing an arm. He doesn't have the medical know-how to treat her himself. Hell, given the only hand he has left is the bare one, he can hardly even use the touch screen on the phone to call someone.

He stifles a sigh. With the way he's still getting prompts to run diagnostics, there's still plenty wrong with him, and he needs to check it out. He's just going to have to trust she'll call someone, and she will be okay. She's a hardy woman, tougher than she seems in some ways. More fragile in others. They're lucky to be alive. If either of them were truly human, they'd probably be dead.

His mouth draws a wide frown across him; he realizes the best way for him to help her now is to help himself. Rey won't get any rest while he's still struggling to stay upright; she'll run herself ragged just trying to make sure he doesn't power down again. It's what he'd do in her shoes, after all.

His eyes flick back to hers. "Okay," he agrees. "I need to go run a couple of scans before my internal clockwork decides to do it for me. You gonna okay for a few minutes?"