TrippyNightmareJackson Tanner
Location: Medical Bay
Jackson groaned in irritation as the kid threw up on his foot, taking a step back as he began to spill his guts about the vial. Looking over his boot, he shook his head and took a moment to wipe it back off on him. As Genevieve came over, pleading to his better nature against harming the boy, he couldn't help but chuckle, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. "Talk to 'im all you want now, got the info I needed."
It wasn't uncommon for Jackson to get like this, the generally good-natured man going out the window as he became all-business, as if he was still in the military, completing a mission. Anisa being in the situation she was, and having only just been shot at, brought it up all the more fiercely than usual. The kid with the broken leg just happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and on the wrong side. He was satisfied enough that the man had given him some info, otherwise he might've snapped toward Genevieve even as she came to offer some help. Not that he'd been particularly friendly to her offer regardless.
Moving back into the medbay, Jackson could see Dorothy had obviously heard the kid as she poured the contents of the vial into Anisa's mouth. For a few moments he stood there, waiting, to see what might have happened. What did happen in the next few moments would very well dictate the fate of the boy in the other room, and, well, likely Patience her self. Jackson didn't feel in an avenging mood yet however, and it seemed it wouldn't be necessary as Anisa seemed to recover, prompting something of a smile to grace the First Mate's lips. "Gorhammit, Captain, next time you do that i'm just goin' to take over and run the ship with an iron fist." He commented, masquerading any concern which may have been making its way up behind humour.
Gregory Quinn
Location: Lounge (Sealed Off)
As they arrived in the Lounge, Quinn set down the crate along with the others and stood up straight, dusting his hands off. Without his usual uniformed jacket, he looked far more relaxed than the business-like and procedural officer preferred to. With just the simple change of wardrobe, he almost looked like a grunt, his undershirt tucked neatly into his bloused trousers. With a good look to his face however, Quinn still looked every bit the calculating leader he always was, giving Jahosafat a look of relative pleasure as he made his request.
Shifting his hand down, he wrapped his hand around the grip of his Walther, generally otherwise hidden under his jacket. Dragging the weapon from its holster, he reached up, slowly dragging back the slide to engage a round as he flicked the safety off. Outside of field executions, the weapon didn't get much use, it certainly wasn't a regular weapon for combat, it was far more for intimidation than anything else. The doctors next words only served to further displease Quinn, and he pre-emptively pointed his weapon toward the crate, finger on the trigger. In the event that whatever was housed in the crate was dangerous, he had no plans of thinking twice.
As the crate began to open, Quinn watched the smoke as it came out, waiting for the top of the crate to open up fully. As it faded away, it took him a moment to fully grasp what he was looking at. When he did, it was a surprise that Quinn could gather a look of even greater displeasure, his weapon remaining trained on the body as his gaze shifted toward Moreau. "Doctor." He began, and eerie calmness to his voice. "Please explain to me, immediately, why this is aboard my ship."
