Antidote

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Sortz"]

"Thank you. That's very kind of you to say." Samson said, a soft smile creeping up for a bit, before pushing it down again.

Oh, she wasn't looking now, but the last thing Sam wanted to do was scare her with his scars if her eyes darted up and looked at him. Especially not while he was knitting together her wound like this. He listened without saying much for the first while, focusing on her voice but also paying most of his attention towards the way the needle pushed in and out of her skin, sealing it shut.

"Mhm, neither do I, if I am being honest." The reply came softly as he continued to work on her. "What kind of work do you do?" The tone was positively curious, it seemed like a natural question to ask, no?

Seeing as she already knew his profession it made sense.

"It's a good habit to get into- ....not getting stabbed in the side, I mean. Very dreadful affair." Head tilts. "Also less needlework."

The galaxy was a violent place though in his experience. It didn't surprise him, then, that this sort of habit was a very difficult thing to cultivate. More often than not it wasn't really up to you, was it? Sometimes... bad things simply happened and you had to make the most of it. His memories flashed back towards Irajah and how she had suddenly found her end.

How senseless.

It would have been the end if not for the intervention of a few good souls.

Relatively good.

Kind anyway.

 

[Sortz]

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

There was a hint of alarm. Not at the question itself, but at the lack of a clear answer for him. What did she do exactly?

She moved heavy things. Cooked. Moved more heavy things. Sometimes slicing. Mostly heavy things. There was that one time she'd broken that guy's knee cap. More heavy things. Sometimes she shot people trying to shoot them first.

Mostly, she moved heavy things.

"Mostly I move heavy things," she confessed. "But, uh, I like to work with computers."

She didn't really want to admit the part about sometimes breaking knee caps. He seemed nice. Spoke softly. Moved carefully. He was.... almost gentle. Yeah, she wasn't going to mention the knee caps thing, no sir.

Tilting her head to the side, she glanced over at him. The ceiling was having a difficult time holding her wandering, drug addled attention.

"I do not recommend it," she agreed solemnly.

Suddenly, she frowned.

"I never asked your name. I'm sorry. That was rude."

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Sortz"]

"Heavy lifting and computers? That is an interesting combination." Sam replied after a moment of thought. "Most computers are a few sizes too small for me sadly, I end up having to use my little fingers." A blink and another slow thought. "Well, you have similar issues, I reckon. Impressive that you made it your work with that in mind!" Samson was most definitely impressed about that.

He couldn't really imagine trying to work with computers for a living while only using his pinkies.

They continued the same dance- him working on the wound and listening, she slowly talking.

At this point the pain meds were clearly working. She was a little bit woozy, which was good- having another elbow up his nose wouldn't have been his preferred way to spend the night. Especially not her elbow, she was far more reasonably proportioned compared to the average human he had come across.

Sam didn't feel like he'd snap her in half if he forgot himself during a procedure.

That felt good.

Always having to worry about your steps grew tiresome at some point, if Samson was honest. What she said next surprised him. He blinked and didn't immediately say anything, while pondering her words a little bit. "It's okay, Sortz, you had other things on your mind." A pull and the next loop was fastened. At this point he was almost done, just had to finish it and make it neat.

"My name is Samson. It is a pleasure making your acquaintance." Sam had read that phrase somewhere.

He liked it.

Very elaborate and it rolled nicely off the tongue.

 

[Sortz]

She wiggled the fingers on her far hand.

"It's, uh, not easy," she muttered, curling her hand back into a slight fist.

That, however, was easy.

With a sigh, she relaxed her hand again, resting it on her abdomen. The other arm was still up, arched over her head to give him access to her flank.

"You, uh, handle the needle good," she said, a little awkwardly both in tone and language. "That seems harder than using computer keys honestly. Doctor seems way harder."

Samson huh?

"Nice to meet you too Samson, I'm-" It was reflexive and it took her a second to pause it, face darkening slightly in embarrassment. "Uh, yeah, we did that part. Just. Uh. Nice to meet you. Too."

Ugh, Sortz plz.

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Sortz"]

"I suspect it is a matter of perspective." Samson pointed out gently. "Some find the computer easy, others medicine. I do not think I would be able to make heads or tails out of some of your trade."

He had glanced over once when a hospital receptionist on Coruscant had tried to fix her lagging screen.

It had been... it had made his eyes cross, if Sam was being honest. "Thank you again, you are very kind." Once more a soft smile tugged up for a bit, before Samson pushed it back down again. Odd, that, few people had made him smile this often in such a short succession of time. It was an odd feeling and truth to be told Sam liked it very much, very different than the usual way of things.

"You have a nice name, Sortz." Sam said lightly, trying to side-step the awkwardness she felt.

Especially because it was a feeling he often had.

It wasn't very pleasant to experience and if he could take it away Samson would. "I wouldn't have minded hearing it from you again." He refocused his efforts, finishing the last stage and knitting it up as cleanly as possible. Then he put away the needle, wiping the surface of the knitted wound with antiseptic. That way it would most certainly not infect.

Caution before anything else.

"There, that's done, how do you like it?" He pushed up her shirt just a little bit more, so Sortz could look at it from her position without trouble.

 

[Sortz]

"I dunno," she grunted. "Wouldn't trust myself mucking around with someone else's body."

What, like crushing a knee cap with your bare hand, Sortz?

Thanks, like that yeah.

She glanced over at him. Yeah, he was smaller than she was, but not that much. They were pretty close really, at least in terms of height. She was pretty sure she outmassed him though. Still, she realized, he probably understood.

"Oh, uh."

She had never had anyone tell her that her name was nice before. Sure some people didn't comment on it, but more often there was at least a look of that's not a name.

"Thanks," she said finally, a bit lamely.

She had no suitable response to his next comment. What even did someone say to that? Fortunately, she didn't need to respond because he was done. Craning her neck, she looked down. The wound itself had been frankly a mess and she'd known it, so she was a little surprised by how neat he'd managed to make the stitches. The area was swollen and clearly angry, but it looked a lot better than she'd expected it to look, all things considered.

"That'll probably be the neatest looking scar I have," she blurted out.

Without really thinking about it, just acting, she started to sit up- the wound itself didn't hurt, after all, but kind of wobbled when she did.

"Oh, uh, hey, can ya ask the floor ta keep still?"

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Sortz"]

"I didn't trust myself either, it took me quite some time and help from very patient people to get where I am now." The reply was earnest and to the point, he truly believed that if Sortz wanted to? They could do it- it would just take a lot of hard work, especially without the benefit of years of flash-printed experience. That last bit was honestly the biggest reason he was capable of doing this.

Without it?

Samson doubted he'd be half this good or even a quarter.

He hadn't noticed that his last remark was a bit... awkward. In all honesty Sam was so focused on leveling out hers, that he didn't even stand to think about how it might have sounded to someone with a little bit more. Hm. Experience.

Which was probably for the best really.

"I did my best, I am glad you like it." He said with a short nod, before moving into help her as best as Sam could. Not because of the pain- he had dozed her enough that Sortz wouldn't really be feeling anything for the next couple of hours at the very least. But the drugs also meant that everything would be a little shaky for a while and that's where his help counted.

"The floor?" Samson looked down confusedly, before blinking. Come on, Sam, get your shet together, okay? "Oh, no, that's the meds, Sortz. Let me help you, we have a couch in the backroom, where you can sit so I can monitor you."

If Sortz allowed it Sam would carefully help her up and steady her as best as he could.

 

[Sortz]

"Oh yeah I'm not going anywhere like this without help."

It wasn't natural for her, but she let him. Mostly because the alternative was ending up sitting on the floor, confused about how she got there. Her arm ended up around his shoulders, his around her waist. She leaned a little harder than she wanted to, but it wasn't really an option now was it?

Slowly they made their way to the promised couch.

"Guess I couldn't have just stayed there," she said, a little distractedly, and a bit too far after the fact. "In case you need the bed for someone else."

It was, after all, a small clinic.

Carefully, he helped her down into a bit of a sprawl- the couch was not made for people of their size and she couldn't sit up or forward like she normally would have.

"Uh, will this hold?" She asked self consciously when the couch groaned. She was suddenly very worried about breaking it.

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Sortz"]

"I am sure it will be fine." If not, they might finally replace it with something a bit more comfortable and less stinging to his back. That was worth being just a little bit rude and letting it break.

It should be fine though.

But Samson decided to pick himself a different chair regardless, because he didn't want to be too rude. That would be unworthy of Irajah's lessons as far as Samson was concerned here. "Mhm, it's fairly late, but if I am here to monitor you more people might come in for help." He could have simply closed the shop, but that didn't seem quite right to Sam.

After all, he was here, was he not?

What if it was something serious?

That would be a very bad thing to ignore as far as Samson was concerned. "Would you like some tea or caf maybe?" Sam suddenly asked, already rising- for himself really, not for her.

It would be a long night and some caf would be good for this. Tryp had left him a package with her... infamous caf the last time she came to visit. It had surprised Samson when she had come in, but apparently she often was around Terminus and these parts with the Outer Rim Coalition being de facto in charge. They didn't travel together as often as before, but for some reason Sam felt like she was surprised they traveled together at all.

She was used to people quickly detaching.

But Sam liked her and enjoyed the occasional haunts through dusty ruins, there was much to learn there.

"What do you like doing outside of your work, Sortz, if I may ask?" Simply making conversation, Tryp had taught him a bit about that. Always offer a few questions about the other person, many enjoyed talking about themselves!

Apparently!

 

[Sortz]

"Not a lot," she admitted, a little more freely than she might have otherwise. Most of what she did related to working for Daro, or trying to figure out who she was and where she'd come from.

"I'm, uh, new. Around here." She looked a little sheepish. New in a way that had nothing to do about her location honestly.

She tried to keep still, because every time she shifted the couch protested.

"Wait."

With the drugs it had taken a moment for some of what he'd said to sink in and percolate.

"Uh.... is this.... not a twenty-six hour clinic?"

She looked vaguely alarmed, which was about all the alarmed she could manage at that moment. She started to sit up, like she was going to get up, and the couch made a truly hideous noise- the Tro'zet froze.

"Do you need to close? Cause I'm okay, really."

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Sortz"]

"You too? How long have you been around?" Samson asked over the lid of the caf apparatus. He had only been here for a few weeks himself, so everything felt a little bit strange compared to the grand scale of Coruscant. It was busy, yes, very busy, but compared to a cityscape that stretched out across the entire surface of a world already larger than most?

Not comparable, no.

"Oh, it's okay," Walking over with two cups, one put next to her and the other for himself. His hand -- free now -- softly touched her shoulder as she tried to rise and shook his head gently.

"I would worry if I let you go like this, so please- sit with me and maybe have some caf?" The caf was obviously optional, Samson wasn't going to enforce that on her, but the sitting was.... less optional, he supposed. He would be greatly upset if she tried to leave now. Samson settled himself down in the chair, grimacing a bit at the sensation of it pushed down.

It always made him worry a bit that he'd make it collapse.

That would be rude.

"What do you do in your free time then, if I may ask?"

 

[Sortz]

She was a little unsteady on her feet- and while she could have made an issue over it, it was much easier to just let him insist on the whole sitting thing and accept the mug of caf. It was a pleasant surprise that the mug fit in her hand and she glanced over at his to make sure she wasn't using the mug he brought for himself. It really was a nice change of pace. While they'd picked up a couple of things for around the apartment, most of the stuff in Daro's home was painfully undersized for the Tro'zet.

Large hands wrapped around the mug, the vague fog of the meds making her be even more careful than usual, but less sure if she was accomplishing it.

"Two weeks?" She said, looking up and counting back before nodding. "Two weeks," she confirmed. "What about you?"

She raised the mug, sniffing the caf carefully.

"Uh....." She'd already answered that question. "You can ask." Hadn't she? She thought back, the drugs making it a little hard to be sure if she had, or if she had just intended to.

"Not much," she repeated, not entirely certain which it was and assuming it must be the later. "It's..... kinda complicated. But. Mostly I fiddle around with computers, which I guess is really more work, just for myself."

A pause, a sip of the caf which made her wince a little.

"Hot," she explained, when she caught the flash of concern on his face. "Um. So. You? What do, uh, you do? Besides this, I mean."

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Sortz"]

"I think about a month now." He thought about that answer for a little bit, before giving a soft nod. "Yes, exactly a month in three days on Taungsday." It had been... quite the event, when he had first entered the clinic and the reactions from the daycrew.

They had assumed he was new muscle of a local crime boss.

Samson had never seen them run that fast, trying to either find something to buy him off or cover for the remote chance that it wouldn't be enough to assuage him. Their reactions had ranged from disbelief to simple astonishment that he was to be their new assistant from Coruscant. When she gave him permission to ask Sam was halfway through actually asking her, but he was stopped when she already began her answer herself without the prompt of the question.

Hrm.

Maybe she wanted this conversation to be over as soon as possible? That was certainly possible. His face fell just an inch, but he didn't let her notice that- opting to cover it with the mug of caf and taking a great sip to mask it completely.

"Similar situation to be honest. I either work in the clinic or study-" A thoughtful look passed over him. "Though sometimes I take a break, a few weeks off-" For some reason none of the people that Samson had worked with had ever minded when he took a break. They even seemed eager about it when he did. "-I explore places, old ruins, try and learn more."

That got a chuckle from him.

"I suppose I like learning new things. I have been told that hobbies are important though, you should try and find one for yourself, maybe?"

 

[Sortz]

She listened, hands wrapped around the mug, claws resting lightly on the ceramic as he spoke.

"Maybe," she said dubiously.

"Maybe someday," she clarified after something flickered over his face.

"I, uh. Have a lot of things I need to figure out," she mumbled, looking down and into the mug as she brought the mug up. "I don't even know where I'd start."

It sounded lame, even to her.

Like who she even was. What she knew (a thing she seemed to be constantly discovering more and more about without any particular rhyme or reason), what she didn't know (a lot). Where she'd come from. What exactly was on the damned chip in her head. It all seemed like so much. She frowned into the mug, her tusks clicking against the edge of it audibly.

Her eyebrows rose when she took a sip and she looked back up at him over the rim of the mug.

"This is good caf," she said a moment later.

The stuff Daro kept around was like sawdust mixed with motor oil.

"So, uh, you.... explore?" She was genuinely curious about that, and it was better than talking more about herself. Honestly, she wasn't used to people wanting to know.

"What kind of ruins?"

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Sortz"]

"I believe all of us have things to sort out, Sortz." Sort out... Sortz... hm, wasn't even on purpose. "You seem like an intelligent woman, I am sure you will figure things out for yourself." Samson had faith in her, after all, how bad could it truly be? It couldn't be worse than waking up to discover you are the clone of the most infamous genocidal Lord of the Sith that has ever walked the Galaxy. Then to uncover that your creator was coincidentally also one of the victims of said genocidal Lords of the Sith and that the reason she had been distant and clinical all the time was that he looked exactly as the man's uncle. With whom Irajah Ven also had.... relationships even after corruption rot away his face.

It was a big mess as far as Samson was concerned.

Which was honestly part of why he had decided to pursue his medical degree and try to discover something that resonated with him. After Raj had been murdered everything had piled on to him, he had been a wreck, a useless one.

Never again.

"Thank you," A nod followed before taking another sip from his cup. "I will put some aside for you to take home." The joy of good caf was not something to take lightly and as far as Samson was concerned, it was the only right thing to do to share some of it with her. The next question she asked made him blink and look up from his caf. It wasn't really often that anyone was interested in.... well, him. It wasn't something that really bothered Samson anymore.

Just the way of things.

"Oh, ancient civilizations. Rakatan, ancient Sith, Je'daii, it's tough sometimes- they didn't exactly leave their ruins in well accessible areas, but that's half the excitement. Testing your body and mind against what they left, finding out more about yourself because of the challenge, very enriching."

"Can I ask what sort of things you are struggling with?"

More curiosity than anything else on that one, he wasn't a therapist after all.

 

[Sortz]

"Oh, no, you don't have to-" She started, to say he didn't have to share the caf like that- but he was already moving on and Sortz was a little foggy, almost drowsy around the edges.

Hopefully the caf would help.

She sipped slowly, listening as he talked.

"Uh," she said when he switched tracks to ask his question, caught a little surprised (though she shouldn't have been he had been specifically making sure she was engaging herself again and again). She didn't really think, the next part just blurting out-

"Kinda the same actually. Just, instead of Sith it's me."

She blinked, trying to rewind. Not the words themselves but how they applied. She hadn't meant to go into it, but she also wasn't used to people actually wanting to know.

"Uh. If what you do with the ruins was a metaphor. Not. Literal." That didn't help.

Why was this so hard?

"Idon'trememberanythingbeforeacoupleofweeksagoandtryingtofigureitoutisjustlikethat."

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Sortz"]

Head tilted at the initial response.

Then the clarification.

Then the clarification of the clarification that actually summed up the situation she was in. Samson didn't immediately respond, instead allowing himself to take a sip of his caf and marinate on what she had just told him. She couldn't remember anything from before two weeks ago? His mind was already picking at that problem -- Sam couldn't really help himself here, it was simply the medical instinct that took over and started prodding to see what would come out of it.

"Have you seen a doctor about it?" Samson asked after the silence had stretched out for a bit. Of course, he could start diagnosing her herself or even sum up a few options that could be a thing here.

But maybe part of her 'discovery' and 'exploration' had to do with a doctor, who could know?

Best to be sure about that part first, before elbowing into an ongoing situation, no? It did somewhat interest him though- the fact that their seemed to be somewhat of a mirror between the two of them. Samson was searching for his identity by picking through the history of others. While Sortz wished to figure out her identity by trying to find out her own identity.

Interesting.

"There could be some medical explanation." Sam clarified a moment later.

 

[Sortz]

"Uh. No."

There was a very definitive quality to that no.

"Very, very no."

She turned her head, gripping the mug with one hand and using the other to sweep the hair up away from the side of her head. Just behind her ear, a scar only half healed with a slight raise beneath it crossed angrily beneath a shaved portion of her skull that was hidden by the otherwise long hair. The hair there was starting to grow back, but it wasn't enough time since it had been done to not see that it had been deliberately shorn.

"The why part isn't really a doctor thing," she explained.

The fact that she was wrong about that, well.....

"Got a data lock. Dunno who put it there, but," she shrugged, letting her hair drop again. "Think it fried some stuff."

That was Daro's theory, and made sense. It was, at least, the simplest solution.

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Sortz"]

Samson pushed himself off his chair and leaned in to take a better look at the data plug entrance.

"May I?" He asked softly and only once she nodded or otherwise gave consent did his fingers gently explore the area round the exit. It was well-done, well he couldn't actually judge the mechanics, but the surgery had been done professionally and Samson doubted he could have done a better job here. He was listening to her possible explanations and it was clear from his expression that he wasn't completely convinced.

"What you are saying is that you have a cybernetic implant burrowed into your brain." He recounted it calmly while settling himself down again, swiping up the cup of caf and taking a sip in between. "That got possibly fried while it was implemented in your brain."

As simple and direct as possible was probably the best solution here.

"...and you do not think you need a doctor for that?" This was probably the closest that Samson got to being snarky or sarcastic on purpose. Mostly out of concern, because it really didn't seem like a good idea to be walking around with a fried piece of hardware in your brain. Especially one you had no idea what it was actually doing or what purpose it served.

And couldn't access.

The more Samson thought about it, the less positive he was about it.

 

[Sortz]

A beat and then-

"Well when you put it like that, yeah okay."

Elbows resting on her knees, she held the mug loosely with both hands, nails tapping softly against the ceramic. With hunched shoulders and the chagrined look on her face, she looked more like a kid that had been caught doing something they weren't supposed to than a hulking Tro'zet.... you know, if you could ignore the green skin, tusks and heavily muscled frame.

She shrugged, partly in answer, partly as a physical manifestation of 'it's not a big deal'.

"Other than not remembering, I seem okay. Headache's gone. It's not..... bothering me. Physically. A..... uh.... someone I work with.... he thinks I might have been smuggling data," she made a bit of a face that said more than the words did. "And something happened and it got fried. We tried to access what was in there buuuuuuuut. Uh. I kinda..... wrecked his rig. Accidentally. I didn't want that to happen again so I just.... once I was feeling better I just...."

She shrugged again, looking away.

"I didn't think about it from a doctor angle I guess."

[member="Samson"]