[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190711/d85b94130afb7c4900935f5ab212fa77.png
[/img] [/center]
[right][hr][color=white][b][b]Smith's Rest | Medical Offices[/b][/b][/color]
January 16th, 2677
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1emb3IQZcQ]Music[/url][hr][/right]
[indent] 

[i]It's been a while since I had a doc look at me.[/i] Alan sat in a plastic chair against the wall, casually holding his hand up, rotating it by the wrist, looking at various callouses and scars that marked his limbs. How many scraps had he been in by now that had left some memento? The worst was his facial scar, which dug into his left cheek. Metal debris had flown into the cockpit when he was cut open by an enemy NC outside Dead Springs. Time had caused the scar to fade in color, but the shallow recess on his face remained. 

[i]A memento.[/i] 

[i]Voices echoed throughout the hallway and a klaxon sounded, the sound of countless men and women rushing down metal hallways into hangars. A deep voice came in over the intercom, but he couldn't make out what was being said. Only the feeling of dread over what was to come. A door opened, revealing a large hangar of pristine NCs, ready to be deployed and-[/i] 

Alan blinked. His head throbbed. He ran his left hand over his face, putting pressure over his eyelids and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Anything to keep these...flashes at bay. How many did this make this year? Three? Now four? It was only around a year ago that the flashes really started happening. The idea of the frequency increasing, the idea of being lost in one of these dreams, and not knowing reality from fiction; that frightened him deeply. 

[i]Don't be obvious about it.[/i] He wasn't the first with feedback from a PS, and he wasn't going to be the last. Still, if these were going to be an issue, he was going to need to speak with a medical professional about this. And that could hurt his chances of making the grade for Graham's little army. 

He scanned the room. He glanced Ryn, then the Saxon-boy and the girl he had arrived with; there was the foreign girl as well. Some deep, lizard brain part of his psyche wanted him to go over to Ryn, to explain things, to talk to her. But he knew all too well that would just lead to what, getting slapped? Punched? Cursed out? No reason to drag something like that out in the middle of the damn medical office. 

So instead he clipped the datapad from his belt loop and brought it up. His library was still packed with literature he hadn't finished reading yet. Something short, maybe a collection of short stories would do until they called him up. Maybe a book of poetry. Anything but thinking about talking to Ryn. 

[/indent]