nysalogs | closed; a man walks into a bar

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closed; a man walks into a bar

Who: TJ Johansen (

stargatemedic) & Brock Rumlow (

ukase)
What: Drinking and dares (maybe)
When: Several days after their first bar meeting
Where: The Frosty Tap Cantina
Warning(s): TBD

It was easier for TJ to tell herself that she was following up on a patient than it was to admit that she'd had enough of New and Exciting™ and needed a bit of a break. Where 'following up on a patient' didn't usually entail going to a bar, she felt justified in the fact that his bones had fallen out of his body at the bar, so she could reexamine his hand at the bar.

Maybe it was better to get a drink in her before she started talking dares or anything else.

Despite it being a night out, TJ had still dressed in something resembling her former uniform; absent the pants, she'd pulled on jeans instead, but the Air Force shirt remained. Hair stayed up and she'd even brought her small medkit, just in case anything inside it was needed.

Finding a (relatively) quiet table in the corner nearest the excitement, something that hadn't clearly started up just yet, she ordered something that appeared tame and waited for her new acquaintance to arrive.

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Another drink or two and she'll probably do anything for a laugh at this point. It's not fair to admit it, but the apology wasn't for what happened but for asking a question that made him feel like he had to answer that way. It wasn't in TJ's nature to cause another person harm that hadn't been agreed upon beforehand - like his previous injuries - so it was a little out of her league.

"Then I won't mention it again."

And she wouldn't. What she was going to do instead was finish her drink instead. It would be several minutes before she ordered another one, but that verbal misstep was on her. Honestly, dares were foreign to her, so she wasn't surprised it went badly. Changing the subject from dares to his body seemed like a better idea. "When do you want to see what your body can do?"

"No worries. Like I said, I'm over it. You asked for something, and I told you," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "It was my choice to tell you after all. I could have made something up." And maybe with anyone else, he likely would have. TJ just sort of had him on a similar level, even if they came from wildly different backgrounds and worlds. In the end, they were still soldiers and she treated him like one, and he liked to think he treated her as one.

He sipped his drink and then smirked at her. "How about a few more drinks in and we'll start? Won't be scientific, but damn if it won't at least be entertaining, right?" It wouldn't be the first time he might be sutured by a drunken medic before. He was game.

"A few more drinks in and I can't promise that I'll be able to fix whatever you do to yourself," she told him with a wry grin. "Maybe I'll put it on hold and let you catch up."

Truth be told, no matter what he'd said, it wouldn't have lowered the amount of respect she had for him. He was clearly good at what he did, and, despite any work related issues he'd had in the past with people in the area, she couldn't imagine it reflecting badly on him.

"Let me go back to what you said about dragons," and not necessarily why or who in his case, "and ask where you're supposed to see one."

"I trust in your abilities, even while intoxicated," he replied with a grin. "As long as you promise me that we won't go off in the middle of the night a get a terrible tattoo. That crosses the line for me." He didn't think she was the type, and he knew he wasn't the type to agree. Worst was they stumbled around laughing in the snow trying to remember where they were staying he figured.

He shook his head and took another sip from his drink. "I'll have you know that I have a very time-honoured reputation of being a cheap drunk, so don't wait for me. I'll be three-sheets to the wind in no time." It was due to him not drinking much.

"God, I have no idea. Where do dragons even live? Maybe somewhere around Wyver. It's the dragon city or something."

"One terrible tattoo is enough for me," she assures him with a laugh and shakes her head as she does so. "And no, you can't see it, know what it is, anything."

She even holds up a hand to stave off that line of questioning. It wasn't while she was drunk, it was while she was young, and the answer is just 'no'. It's not anything anyone sees unless she's wearing too few clothes to care, so she's not worried about it, but still. She's definitely not talking someone else into a tattoo they might regret. Unless he won't.

Eyebrows go up as he talks about getting drunk easy and she adds, "This'll be something to see. We can get drunk and go dragon hunting."

He looked positively scandalized! "Whoa, whoa, whoa, you can't just dangle that in front of me and snatch it away! That's unbearably cruel!" Now he was endlessly curious of what kind of tattoo she would have which she just wouldn't share. He thought they were friends! "Is it in a scandalous place? Come on, give, give, give!"

He was confident that he could get the information - even a tidbit - out of her over time, but he would have to work for it. She seemed like she wouldn't give up information easily after all, but damn! His eyes dropped to scan her and despite all the clothing they had to wear in the cold, he was trying to find out a good place for an embarrassingly bad tattoo.

"...you realize it's unlikely here. We'll just freeze to death," he remarked. "And I'm only getting drunk with and for you if I get to know more about this tattoo."

"No."

TJ rolls her eyes, unable to stop the laugh that she gives him, aware that he's exaggerating his excitement over her tattoo. She's not telling and, when he mentions the getting drunk, she fixes him with a stare. "You say that as if you were doing it for me in the first place."

Still she's amused. Though, if they can't go dragon hunting here, they'll just have to settle for doing their best to break his body. "And maybe freezing is something your body can react to! We can just leave you out there and see what happens."

Her eyes go wide as if it's something she'd actually do. It's not.

Okay, he might be a little dramatic about it, but that was his call to make. It earned him a laugh, and that was good enough by his measure for the effort of the antics. "Well, I might be? How else would it be okay to agree to questionable experimentation that may leave me scarred and in pain for days or weeks?" His dry tone indicated that he was joking and she shouldn't take him seriously.

He paused in taking another sip of his drink at her suggestion and it was his turn to roll his eyes. "While that may be true, I don't want to freeze to death. Cryo is bad enough," he replied, though honestly with a few more drinks in him, he'd probably agree.

"If I turn into an ice cube for science, you're the first one on my shit list."

"Days or weeks? In that case, I'll be sure to bring you breakfast in bed." She points with her empty glass. "Right up until you can do for yourself again and then you're on your own."

It has the 'psh' tacked on even if she doesn't vocalize it. She's a doctor (almost), not a delivery service. At his assertion that he doesn't want to be an ice cube for science, she laughs again. "I promise you, no one's ever been an ice cube for science, unless their world has disappeared. Even then, look how well you thawed out." Insert a cutsie baby voice here. "Don't put me on your shit list, you volunteered for this. Remember?"

Also, yeah. If he's going to have one, she's going to take one more. That's it.

"Considering you don't know where I live, that's going to be awful difficult for you," he replied and stuck his tongue out at her. He wasn't one that enjoyed being babied, and he was more than likely to be on his feet as quickly as he could be no matter what kind of serious injury he might be carrying around in the mean time. "I'll be on my own no matter what, Lieutenant. I can take care of myself, always have."

He still lifted a hand and ran it through the flare of his bangs, pushing it from falling anywhere close to his face. "I guess I'm just too hot for cryo. I come out looking so fine," he remarked, just being cheeky. "I volunteered, but I'm a man, and when has any man not doing something without bitching and whining about it first? Give me a moment."

Being tipsy makes her attempt at jokes fall flat and she merely tips her glass at him and nods in acknowledgement when he says she doesn't know where he lives. The tongue was an added effect and she rolls her eyes. Honestly, she was the last person that anyone would want cooking for them, so he was really better off.

"I have no doubt, Colonel. You seem incredibly self-sufficient."

The second time she rolls her eyes - in response to how hot he must be - she's afraid she's done it so hard that they're going to fall out of her head. It's the response he deserves and she shakes her head. "Anything from bones falling out to the common cold. Men are useless, it's true."

"That's Corporal," he replied smoothly. "You outrank me, and you are right about that, I'm so self-sufficient, I stitch myself up in the field just to get the job done so we can finish the mission."

He knew that she meant his real rank, and he was only teasing her about that. He didn't want either of them to think that rank actually mattered much here anyway since there was no action military body to oversee them. They also weren't from the same branch, and really, this was just another excuse to tease her as she grew more and more tipsy.

"God right? I'm also a terrible patient. I never sit still. Last time I was in the field hospital, they ended up drugging me to keep me from getting up to head back into action with my team. I figured restraints were next on their list. I'm not a complainer but I'm stubborn, which is probably worse." He knew more than a few whiner men for even papercuts.

"Mmm." Between the Corporal and the Colonel, she'd been bound to make the mistake eventually. Maybe. Or it was the alcohol talking? "I do outrank you, which means when I order you not to stitch yourself up, you'd better listen."

She used her glass for emphasis, knowing full well he was going to do what he wanted when he wanted, but it didn't matter. Other than the man who was from when and where she was (more or less), she wasn't about to pull rank or anything close to it. She could take the teasing, especially since this was the most she'd had to drink in more than two years.

For his description of his activities the last time he was injured, he gets A Look.

"You know that's not good for you, right? If you're injured, you have to give yourself time to heal." She'd heard it enough herself and she was obviously reciting it by rote. "Believe me, Corporal," emphasis on his rank, "I've been there. You don't have to jump in and save the day just because you can."

"Wow, you wouldn't do that, would you? What if you're not around and I'm bleeding out?" He was going to march scenarios right by her so that she couldn't give that order because it would make no sense. He also wasn't likely to listen to it anyway, no matter how much he respected the ranking system. He was a survivor, and he'd do whatever that took.

He just took a sip from his own glass, though he was making certain to take his time so that he didn't hit rock bottom too quickly. He hadn't eaten before he came, so he knew that moderation was going to be the key here, if he was likely to survive without making a complete ass of himself. Besides, they got on well, and he'd hate to ruin that so soon into establishing some ground rules of questionable experimentation.

"I gave myself twenty-four hours," he reflected. "And I'm no use to my team if I'm not there helping them take the objectives." Rumlow was a jump in and never back down kind of guy, and he disliked the idea that he needed to listen to even doctor's orders anyway. It was boring laying in bed. "I use the pain to motivate me to work faster. That's how it works, right?" He was teasing.

"Fine. If you're bleeding out, you can do a patch job, but I'm afraid of what you're going to do to yourself if you just go sewing yourself randomly." And then, "Plus, I plan on being there when you're injured unless there's a reason you think I won't be?"

Is there a reason he's going to be hurting himself when she's not around? Or going into battle? She'd be there for that, too. She has a gun and everything, Rumlow, so don't think you'll get to leave her behind.

Then he said something that he meant to be teasing, she was sure he meant to be teasing, but she raised her eyebrows and tapped the rim of her glass against his before agreeing with him. "That is how it works. Pain is an incredible motivator. It gets us through things we'd never think we could do."

"I've survived this long on my own patch jobs, so I can't be horrible at them," he pointed out with a grin. She might take issue with his methods, but they worked. He had had to run some operations alone and with no support, one learned how to take care of themselves even in violent situations. He had learned how to sew himself up pretty well.

Though, he paused with his glass half raised to his lips when she said she was planning on being there for his injuries. He figured it would mean the experiments, not if he ran off into operations to protect people or just... push a political agenda of his own. He watched her for a long moment, then down the rest of his cup.

"You gonna have my six, is that it?" It took a real soldier to actually say that. Most people he had met were less... cohesive, more willing to be the flashy first into a scene and wanting to wow everyone with their abilities. That wasn't how a military operation worked generally; they were a team.

Something in her words were a bit too serious for the joke. He sobered and lifted his hand for another drink. "Yeah, I know. There's order in pain. It's a great driving force for some who know how to make it their own."

Honestly, he's still alive, which puts him in a category all his own. Most soldiers (men and women) aren't capable enough to patch their own wounds and, like they've already discussed, men in general are whiny infants, so she has to give him credit for that, too.

"I'm gonna be there to make sure you have someone to watch out for you if you need it," is her reply, utterly serious. "As much as you want to be a badass all on your own, someone has to watch your back and be there to pick up the pieces." Sure, he can go it alone and is probably good at it, but TJ has seen enough people do things on their own and end up in trouble. Even if she's not right there, she can be there when he needs her.

Not quite ready for her own refill, she watched as he downed his. "Look at you, trying to catch up." It's followed by a wink and a grin.

Old soldiers were often the most dangerous. They had survived and become skilled in the art of war and killing. Rumlow had seen more than his fair share of combat, been wounded and still kept going back to the next battle. He had done plenty of field medicine, learned as he went, but he could never doubt the skill of a medic in the heat of combat either. If she wanted to keep him in one piece, he certainly wouldn't put up a fight about it.

"No one's said that to me since I came here," he said thoughtfully and maybe the alcohol was starting to loosen him up. He relaxed more in his seat, and he snorted at her comment. Loyal type, was she? That seemed rare even in these parts. "You might be picking up weird pieces falling out of me if this... ability shows up in combat. Maybe I'll become a living jigsaw puzzle for you."

He grinned and his next drink arrived maybe a tad too quickly for his likes. "Well, if I'm going to embarrass myself, why stop the inevitable, right?"

Listening to him talk about puzzles and pieces of his body, TJ just shook her head.

"I'll be honest, I prefer my puzzles in the thousand piece range and being put together on a table that isn't for combat surgery," she told him wryly. "Nor do I want to see you in a thousand pieces, despite the fact that we're gonna do experiments on--" She motioned with her hand to indicate all of him, then shook her head again for both emphasis and to indicate her sudden disapproval.

His grin, however, was contagious and she couldn't keep up the mock disdain for long, especially when he mentioned embarassing himself. "Oh, this I've gotta see."

Rumlow huffed noisily and took up his next drink when it arrived, lifting it as if in tribute. At this point, he was starting to feel the effects of his previous alcohol consumption, but he was still a big man so he could take a lot more. "I bet I could be about a thousand pieces if you needed the challenge."

He shrugged his shoulders. She had sold him a little more than previous when it came to finding out more about this oddity that occasionally happened to him. It seemed like he had at least an ally in those ventures, and she had proven to have know how in the medical field.

He took a sip from his newest drink. "You better keep your distance. I'm told I get handsy, and that's why people always take me out of the public eye before I get a harassment charge." Rollins had been excellent on gauging his drunkness and keeping him out of trouble.

"Yeah, let's put that off until the second experiment," TJ said with an actual laugh, aware that he probably could still be put back together at that point and not entirely sure she could do it herself.

She appreciated the vote of confidence, she really did, but doing surgery under forced conditions had been nerve wracking and she suddenly was struck with the knowledge that she was here and no one who knew her was there, too. It was daunting - in that moment - to be trusted by someone new and not because he had to, but because he chose to.

Shaken from her thoughts when he mentioned getting handsy, she took it as a joke and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Don't threaten me with a good time," she teased in return, then added, "I'm sure we can make an exit if you start grabbing too many people."

"Just the second? Man, you're a slave driver on these experiments," he replied, though he was grinning again. He figured that it would take longer than two experiments, since he couldn't actually control what was happening to him. He wasn't even certain that it would happen again, even if a part of him thought that it would given the right stimulation.

Rumlow shook his head slowly at her, almost pitying her. She had no idea what she was dealing with. "If you like a hand grabbing your ass or sliding around your waist, that's exactly what might happen. I'm serious. I have been slapped so many times," he said, and yeah he had deserved it too but come on, he only wanted to touch. "The moment I start reaching, you better get me out of here or it all goes south quickly."

While it might take longer for that kind of thing to happen, TJ still didn't want him to go throw himself off a bridge - just in case. If banging his hand took the bones out of his hand, then what would a heavy fall on the ground do? Extra bones everywhere? It was a daunting thought and she was actually impressed all over again that he was going to allow her the opportunity to, well, test her skills.

"I can grab back if you get that familiar," she told him with a Look, not aware of how serious he was. "But a lot of it is just redirection. Moving a hand to a place that's not nearly as offensive. I appreciate the heads up," she added with a wink. "It's not as much of a shock if I know it's coming. But if you grab other people, then we'll have to leave. I'd like to come back at some point."

"Well, I might enjoy that," he remarked with a smirk. It usually landed him in trouble or at least someone's bed if they decided that his advances were worth a reply in kind, and he wasn't entirely looking to move their partnership in such a way. They seemed like they had potential to be such a good team after all.

"As a woman, I feel like you've had to endure shitty men grabbing at you," he reflected. He had seen it a lot when he was a kid, didn't entirely understand it until he was older and he certainly appreciated when it made a woman uncomfortable. "You can push me in the snow if I grab too many passing people, fair?"

"Foreplay? I'll be careful, trust me."

As someone who'd slept with her CO, she wasn't looking to instigate that with someone else, especially where she was the higher ranking officer. Not to mention, she had decided long before she'd landed in this place that the single life was for her - with no offense intended to the man across the table. She was sure he was a nice guy, but he seemed like he was holding a torch as it was and she definitely didn't need any more entanglements.

"Not as many as you might think," she said thoughtfully. Her expression turned almost gleeful. "Can I push you in the snow for fun?"

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