Yankee
TruthHurts
princess
Plank SinatraOswald Connoly- Infirmary
Sapphire seemed to share his misgivings about the current state of affairs. That was something, at least. Either he had a point, or they were both just paranoid. Either scenario was alright with him, frankly: misery loved company, and he was in no shape to lead an investigation into this if they were right.
Her departure was...depressing, to say the least. He was thrown back into the world of cold, clinical medicine. He'd been lucky enough to survive their last mission physically intact, but this time, not even his body was spared the stresses of war. He couldn't fault the nurses for forcing him to rest, though: trying to move and talk hurt like a fresh Beowulf bite. After a dose of painkillers and a few minutes, he was out like a light.
Groaning as he forced himself to wake up, Oswald winced in pain as his rib cage expanded, taking in the first long breath of the day. He wouldn't be getting used to that any time soon, that was for sure. If I ever see another one of those...things...again, I'll tear their lungs out and force-feed them to the fuckers before I deal with this shit again.
For now, it was another day of bedrest. His ribs and lung were healing a bit ahead of schedule, but there was nothing that could be done save for waiting. Nature took its time, even with the wonderful healing properties of Aura.
Diamond brought a nice break from the routine later on, however. Seafood wasn't exactly what he was looking for, but he wasn't going to complain, either. "Looks awesome. Thanks, Diamond." He wanted to crack a joke, but expected that it would end rather poorly for him, especially in his current condition.
It was indeed awesome stew. Thank goodness.