[b]Day 1: Afternoon[/b]

Sitting a ways outside the medical tents, Dr. Beirmann was finally taking a moment to rest since the meeting with their mission coordinator earlier. Things hadn't let up. He knew they wouldn't anytime soon either, but the nurses and others volunteering had practically forced him to take a "fiver" by that point, as anyone who looked at the man could see he was practically running on fumes. Not a good state for any doctor, really, but even so, Heineken would have denied any ounce of exhaustion if it meant helping another life. He knew better though. Hein knew he was no help if he collapsed, and so, he sat with his glasses held in one hand draping loosely over his thigh, the other hand covering his face and rubbing gently at his temples. Aside from that small movement of his fingers, however, the man was perfectly still, like a statue upon the folding stool he'd been all but pushed onto by his colleagues. If one didn't know better, they may even think the doctor had managed to fall asleep sitting up. However that surely wasn't the case.
Sleep was probably the last thing that would come to Dr. Biermann at that time. Sleep was the last thing he could have wanted. Rest, he would do, if only to quell the concerns of the others. Sleep, however, he refused. Not until the job was done...
He took this time of rest to simply stop thinking, clearing his mind and trying not to let his worries about the other survivors and his team get the better of him. With his thoughts far off, he focused instead on the activity around him, listening, as he often did, to the various conversations of others. The most of what he could hear came from within the tents, and his chest tugged to get back inside and assist however he could, be he fought the urge, choosing instead to try and listen to conversations further off. People talking about supplies, about the livestock and who or what survived. He listened as the recon team returned to camp with no good news...though no bads news either at least. There was some complaining from one fellow, the documentarian, about the loss of his equipment, and Heineken couldn't help but huff at the young lad's lack of understanding toward the severity of their situation. Cameras could be replaced, the lives of those who had not survived, however...
Again the doctor had to clear his mind. He shifted enough to peer at his broken smartwatch, as though it would magically have started working again as the day went on, then shook his head and returned his glasses to rest on the bridge of his nose. He had no idea how long he had been resting for. For all he knew, it could have been a mere minute, even though it felt like an age and a half. He wondered if his fellow practitioners expected him to sit and wait to be cleared to return to work, or if he could get away with just going back on his own. His mind was buzzing even more than it had been before, and he felt that listening to the conversations around him was only going to make it worse.
He needed a distraction, especially with the pain settling in his leg where his old injury had been. With everything going on, he'd yet to take anything for it. Just one good shot was all he needed, but there wasn't enough privacy yet. Not for him to actually grab what he needed from the supplies without being questioned, nor for him to administer the drug without being seen. Short of helping out in other areas, however, he couldn't see much in the way of [i]good[/i] distractions.
Then came the complaining again. That damn documentary whining away over the loss of trivial things. Heineken wondered if the boy had ever worked a disaster in his career, or if this was the man's first project of its likes. It wouldn't have surprised him, really, if the guy whining over his camera was nothing more than an egotistical brat who thought that coming along for the project would make a big name for himself. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, he finally pushed himself up from where he sat and casually made his way toward the source of the quibbling, a notable limp in his step as he moved across the uneven terrain.
Coming upon the man who was set to be their documentarian and looked down at him with a cold gaze, "Pardon my interruption," he started, "but I could hear your [i]wails[/i] from outside the medical tents and thought I should come and see to it that you are not suffering any injuries at this time."

Jae-Seong looked up at the man who approached him, being forced to tear his attention away from his water-logged, sand-encrusted, and overall [i]crushed[/i] equipment to look up at the near-giant. He scowled, catching on quickly to the doctor's judgment of him, and curtly responded, "I'm fine, doc, why don't you run off back to your tent and make yourself more useful to those who [i]actually[/i] need you?"

Heineken gave another snuff at the documentarian's venomous response and shook his head. The man, for he knew very well that the documentarian was a full-grown man, was less that and more a child. Fitting, really, given his appearance. "I suggest, then," he said as he used his foot to close the case Jae-Seong was moping over, "that you do the same and quit with this childish behavior to make yourself more useful to your fellow survivors. There are far more important things you could be spending your time with than fretting over what's already lost."

A flash of anger shot through Jae-Seong's eyes as the doctor's foot made contact with his equipment and he tugged the case away from the man, dusting it off as he spoke, "Oh [i]sure[/i]," he spoke with deep-seated sarcasm, "[i]Important[/i] things. Like [i]chasing chickens[/i]," he rolled his eyes, "Thanks for the advice doc, but I think the others got things handled. I'm not much of the run around with your head cut off type, y'know?"

Oh yes. This was [i]definitely[/i] the distraction he needed. Dr. Biermann had spoken with the man not even a full minute, and already despised him. How on Earth this [i]child[/i] had been chosen as their documentarian, he'd seriously have to consider asking Carol, but until then, it took every ounce of himself not to go off on the younger man. Whining over his damaged equipment was one thing, after all, but actively refusing to assist his fellow man in their slim chances of survival? He could pummel the kid, but he didn't.
"I don't know what exactly you're on, boy," Heineken started in response, "But this isn't some [i]oridinary inconvenience[/i] here. People are [i]dead[/i] and still [i]dying[/i]," he pressed, wondering if he could actually get the severity of their situation clear to the young lad, or if he was just wasting his breath, "Everything we have done thus far has been in an effort of [i]survival[/i], and it will take [i]every[/i] bit of help we can get from [i]every[/i] survivor among this crew if we have any hope of holding out long enough to return to the lives we once led. So while you may not be the run around type, you can certainly make a damned good effort to try, so I suggest you take your attitude and shove it right now, or your time here is going to be less than ideal, even beyond losing your precious equipment."

At that, Jae-Seong had had enough of the doctor's words. It wasn't enough that he had lost [i]everything[/i] that mattered to him, but now he had this absolute [i]geezer[/i] telling him off for dealing with things in his own way? Oh no, he wasn't going to take that. Jumping up to his feet, not much of a difference was really made between the two men, as the doctor towered over the documentarian, but regardless of the height difference, Jae-Seong didn't back down. Fists clenched and teeth clenched, he glowered up at the doctor, before giving the man a sharp jab to the chest, "Listen here you old fart!" he snapped, "You have absolutely [i]no right[/i] coming over here and telling me how to act and feel! I don't [i]care[/i] if it seems pointless to you! That shit was my [i]life[/i]! The only reason I'm on this cursed excursion was for that fucking documentary; I shouldn't even [i]be here[/i]! So maybe, [i]just fucking maybe[/i], doc, you could have a little compassion while I come to terms with the fact that I'm probably going to [i]die[/i] out here with the rest of this [i]damned[/i] crew, and it could have been [i]easily[/i] avoided if I just said [i]fuck off[/i] to the offer from the start!"

Though smaller than the doctor, Jae-Seong showed no fear as he went off on the man, his voice carrying over most of the beach and grabbing the attention of many. The doctor, however, stood calm and poised, showing no sign of emotion as he watched the smaller man, almost carefully. The documentarian was getting riled up, and Hein wasn't sure where the young man's anger would lead him. If it came to a fight, he was ready, but otherwise, he saw no harm in letting Jae-Seong release his anger on him. Just as he felt though, as Jae-Seong's voice grew more and more fierce through his rant, so too did the little man's body language, until finally the documentarian raised both hands and gave the doctor a firm shove. Dr. Biermann stepped back against the force, noting that Jae-Seong was much stronger than he appeared, but he kept his footing. He made not a move in response, waiting, instead to see if Jae-Seong would go for a second attack.
The tension was high between the two men, and yet the doctor was completely relaxed, even going so far as to hold his hand up to signal for anyone on the security team who decided to step in to stand down for the time being. He had started this, in his need to find a distraction from both his pain and refusal to sit idly by, even for his own benefit. He had started this fight, and he intended to finish it as well.