Kotze accepted the prescription from Varrus, a small bottle of pills, and studied it over for a brief moment. He hid the disappointment in his face, though not his thoughts. Kotze hoped for some med tech more sexy, more exciting; the little white capsules reminded him of hoary grey-haired women. He doubt he'd even take them, afraid they'd interact negatively with the Alpharotec constantly coursing through his veins. It was a hell of a lot more important to keep his synthetic organs from shutting down than stitch a shoulder back together, but [i]damn[/i] did it hurt. Kotze stashed the plastic bottle into his jacket, just in case, and smiled. [color=silver]"Thanks, doctor. Those'll come in handy.[/color]"

The Illithid brought up the damn potato scooper again. Kotze wondered if the Varrus could tell he was more metal than man just by looking at him, or if the good doctor would be caught off-guard by the spliced nerves and microbionics as his artificial eyes were pried out. No, he probably knew, but hopefully Varrus would practice good doctor-patient confidentiality. [color=silver]"Well, I don't mind being poked and prodded,"[/color] Kotze said as he headed for the door. Perhaps a double entendre, perhaps not. [color=silver]"I'm sure I'll be back around soon."[/color] Kotze shut the door of the medical bay behind him just as he felt the ship shift underneath his feet for a brief moment, the ship's artificial gravity quickly compensating for the acceleration. A change of direction. [i]Guess this ship's used to picking up transients,[/i] Kotze thought as the captain made his announcement. [i]The Island of Misfit Toys[/i]. He made his way through the narrow ship to the kitchen, where a few of his new crewmates were floating about the room. Kotze smiled and played nice, but avoided talking whenever possible; the interaction with the doctor pushed him to his limit, and he knew any more interaction might make him snap. Instead, he simply filled a plate and took a table to himself. Kotze was simultaneously thankful for the brief isolation and crushed by loneliness. As he stared at the food, it dawned upon him that he could never go back. He'd been at the top of his game, one of the best in the field, and now he'd never work again. Not even a backwater planet third-rate corporation like Gengrove Group could take him on without his former employers breathing down their neck. [i]Maybe I should've let the suits on Helios finish their job.[/i] 

He missed the voice in his ear.

Kotze ate his food quickly and deliberately, like an automaton. He didn't taste a morsel of it, though not for lack of trying; Kotze's taste receptors had been fried to cinders years ago, so that he only picked up the texture of bacon and dry toast. It was just fuel to him. 

Another announcement over the ship's coms, a briefing on the next job. It was a good chance to learn more about the ship and its crew, certainly, but Kotze was far from up for the task. He passed the War Room on his way to the kitchen, and the thought of cramming in there with every person on the ship was physically repulsive. Still, Kotze was a member of the crew, and like it or not, he'd have to act like it. The agent finished up his meal and slipped out of the kitchen, climbing his way through airlocks until he reached the War Room, which to his surprise, was empty, save for Stryker. He gave the man a quick nod and a smile. [color=silver]"First one here, huh?[/color]" he said to the empty chairs before taking a seat. [color=silver] "I guess punctuality isn't in the crew contract."[/color]