[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=8882be]Fitz Townsley[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://s22.postimg.cc/eeqj5m4k1/image.gif[/img][hr][hr][b][color=8882be]Location:[/color][/b] Prometheus: Lower Deck: Single Top (7)
[b][color=8882be]Skills:[/color][/b] None
[/center][hr]	In hindsight, Fitz realized that none of this would have happened had he fallen asleep in his own lodgings the previous night. He could have traced this unfortunate chain of events even farther back, going to the moment he decided to leave Osiris. Or perhaps, it was when one of his engineering professors told them about their time working on an Alliance crew, traveling the 'Verse and practicing their trade at the same time. He could even draw a connection to the time when he was six and Abigail Riaz had punched him in the face, knocking out one of his baby teeth. Or ultimately, back to his conception - or even further back, to when his parents had been conceived. The more he thought about it, the more he was able to draw an exact line of cause and effect that went back to the Big Bang. 

	None of this, of course, provided him any comfort. He was hiding inside Daphne's blankets like a cocoon, having even crawled underneath her bed for good measure. He inched forward slightly until his hand was able to curl around one of the metal supports for the bed, just in case anyone tried to grab him by the feet and drag him out, in order to space him. [color=8882be]"I-I-I-I-I....I-I-I-I-I....I-I-I-I-I....D-d-d-did y-y-you k-know the mi-mi-mitochondria i-is the pow-powerhouse of t-the c-c-c-c-cell?"[/color] Fitz stammered. He didn't know much biology, but his twin sister had often reminded him of that fact, though he wasn't quite sure why she had felt a need to. 

	Fitz then fell silent again. He wasn't ever going to crawl out from this place. He'd just ask Daphne to change rooms with him and eventually, they'd realize he was dead and they'd find his corpse down there. He was going to spend the rest of his life hiding here and he was perfectly okay with that. There were worse ways to die - and apparently, someone on the ship might be test running one of them for him. [hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=4dffa6]Dorothy Pender[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://data.whicdn.com/images/234730115/original.gif[/img][hr][hr][b][color=4dffa6]Location:[/color][/b] Prometheus: Upper Deck: Outside Foyer ---> Lower Floor: Medical 
[b][color=4dffa6]Skills:[/color][/b] Perception, Medicine, Life Sciences
[/center][hr]	Dorothy nodded, beginning to administer the Ox Bag to Atticus without question. She hadn't picked up so much on Jahosafat referring to the Preacher as being their patient, so much as she did her fellow doctor dismissing the eager requests to help. It was music to her ears. One of the largest issues they had with the last crew, sadly, was that there were too many cooks in medical. And only one of them (Dorothy) had any training. But still, Genevieve had attempted to insist that she could help. Sadly, it seemed that only now that Genevieve was gone that her psychological training was in high demand. 

	[color=4dffa6]"On it,"[/color] Dorothy acknowledged, continuing to administer the bag as Jahosafat ran ahead. It was another benefit to having a second doctor - she didn't have to do all of this prep work herself. There had been occasions where she had so much to do that she had brought in a second set of hands, only to have to quickly teach the basics of whatever procedure she needed to complete that day. Once they had Atticus hoisted up, Dorothy moved with them, attempting to do everything she could for their patient and she continued to administer the ox bag. 

 	She just really hoped that Atticus pulled through - though she also couldn't help but wonder what had caused him to end up like this...