Tree Boxing And Missionaries Positions

The Mission Team returns to Base
Continuation of The Mission.

Fredricks is in the Station, having prepped the medical facilities for all kinds of White Missionaries.

Slayback finally makes it to the camp. He looks over to Annabelle, "What was God thinking when he designed /this/ place, eh?" He scratches his head and has a look about. He spots Woods, "Any further orders, oh fearless leader?"

Woods comes up behind, with Kappedal. His hand is a bit bandaged although he looks fearful. Snakes, snakes. Scaley, slithery, phhbtphhbtphbt goign snakes. A wince at the fearless leader comment, "Yeah, get to the station. We'll make our report then I think they'll give us some rest."

Kappedal brings up the rear of the moving party. By the time they reach the aid station he's gone back to quiet chanting under his breath rather than talking with the others, even though Woods is close by. The gutteral language rushes like water. "Likdoshim asher bo-oretz hay-moh, v'adiray kol chef-tzi vom. Yir-bu atz'vosom achayr mo-horu, balasich nis-kayhem mi-dom, uval eso es sh'mosom al s'fosoy…" His eyes flicker up as they near the station.

Only one white missionary in sight, and although there's a fair amount of blood on Annabelle, none of it is hers. She is quite muddy and wet, however, and did eventually put her shoes back on once they were past the river. "He was probably thinking that there's beauty in everything, if you look closely enough," she replies quietly to Slayback. She glances back to Kappedal when he starts chanting again. "Is that a prayer?" she wonders.

"I'm sure it's a nice enough place, without the angry Japanese," Woods offers and winces. Who is he kidding? He accepts that Kappedal is chanting to himself, likely wishing he had a similar ritual. No snakes, no snakes… "We're near the station," He offers.

Fredricks emerges from the Station, squinting at the returning Team. "Alright, Marines. Injured in here, returning Missionaries as well." Wow someone gave him a shot of Officer Serum. He's got that Doctor take charge voice.

Slayback motions Annabelle to the aid station, "Let's find you a cot and something to drink." He sighs and makes his way inside the tent, "Hey there Fredricks, we've got some work for ya."

Quaid follows behind the team, a little slower due to his wounded leg. He limps up to a nice rock and sits down, kicks his muddy boots off. Then he stands, walking barefoot towards the aid station.

Kappedal doesn't hear Annabelle's question to Slayback, too far away and also talking to himself, which doesn't help his hearing. "Adonoy m'nos chelki v'chosi, atoh tomich goroli. Chavolim nof'lu li ban'i-mim, af nacha-los shof'roh oloy. Avo-raych es adonoy asher y'o-tzoni, af lay-los yis'runi chil-yosoy. Shi-visi adonoy l'neg-di somid, ki mimi-ni bal emot. Lochayn somach libi va-yogel k'vodi, af b'sori yish-kon lo-vetach." He unshoulders his pack as they get close to the aid station, finishing the rhythmic lilting before going in. "Ki lo sa-azov naf-shi lish'ol, lo si-tayn chasid'cho lir-os shochas. Todi-ayni orach cha-yim, sova s'mochos es po-necho, n'i-mos bi-min'cho netzach. Amen." Whoosh, he pushes the flap inside and heads for Fredricks.

"I think it is," Woods offers an answer. "He's probably concentrating too, it's been kind of a long day…" He rubs the back of his head with his good hand. "Doc, I'm sorry- you get to see me today," He offers. "And one of the missionaries," He steps aisde motioning to Annabelle.

"Thank you, lads," Anna offers quietly to the assembled men. She was intending to ask Kappedal directly, but the question was probably too soft. She dutifully follows along into the tent, arms folded across her chest and a somber look on her face.

Fredricks watches the Team approaching, moving aside as Kappedal approches, looking a bit concerned as he sees the man praying in Hebrew, though not surprised. He nods, "come on in, let's get you all looked at." He looks at Kappedal, "Triage report, who'se worst?" He asks, businesslike, determined to take the worst off first.

Slayback sits down on a cot, unwraps his puttees, and kicks off his boots. He cracks his neck and sits the BAR on the cot behind him. A look around and he shrugs at Fredricks, "I dunno, I got in on the action late." He pats the BAR, "I feel like I made up for it though…shame about that missionary guy, though."

Kappedal is all duty by the time he gets to Fredricks. His speech is slightly accented for a tick or two as he readjusts his head, but it isn't intrusive. He points to Tavua and Woods. "The native was shot in the arm. Severed some tendons, may have fractured some bone. There's been blood loss. I couldn't do much for it." Then Woods. "Gunshot trauma to the hand, moderate damage to third phalange…" He rattles off the rest of Fred needs to know for Woods. "Two injured. Two didn't make it." That's kind of mumbled.

Quaid enters the aid station after the Doc's invitation and takes a seat on a cot. "Ahhh," he sighs. To Fredricks, he says, "Told you to get syrettes ready. We weren't fast enough to save 'em. Didn't even see the other bastards until they started shooting. Fuckin' jungle," he grunts.

Woods looks to his hand, "I think I'll live." There's a joke about not going blind in the near future somewhere in there. "I feel really bad… wish I'd known," He shrugs and frowns. "Guess that's a lesson about not hesitating," He offers weakly.

"His name was Edward," Anna pipes up after Slayback refers to the 'missionary guy', looking at him. "Edward Clark and Reverend James Patterson." Then she falls silent again, clenching her jaw and fighting back the sadness.

Fredricks nods to Kappedal, "Right. See if you can get the Native in here, I'll handle Woods." He looks to Quaid, and nods, "Fine." He turns to Woods, "Have a bed there, Woods." He points to a bed. turning to Annabelle, he says, simply, "If you could take Bed three, Ma'am, I'll have a look at you after I take care of the Private." He starts to where he sent Woods, "If you're not injured, try to stay out of the way, please, men." He moves to scrub and take a look at Woods' hand.

Slayback glances over at Annabelle, "Oh, sorry. I didn't know their names." He shrugs and says, "I wish I could've seen the bastards before they got…was it Patterson?"

"Aye aye," Kappedal tells Fredricks. He's covered in blood and what might be bits of Patterson's lung tissue, caking and staying nice and moist in this jungle humidity. He nods politely to Annabelle as passes by, macabre sight that he is, and slips outside the tent to see if he can spot Tavua out there.

Tavua has found himself a nice tree to sleep under. His wound isn't too serious, a bandage will do, the tough old islander closing his eyes to try to find some sleep.

Woods nods, quietly. "Yes sir," He sits on the bed obediently. The hand's fairly dinged up, rifle shot likely. He wants to whimper, but stifles it. Woods is a quiet, cooperative patient at least. "The Islander helped us a lot too," He epxlains quietly. "Good fellow," He smiles feebly. "I just … feel awful." His first day in charge. Yeowch.

What do a Jew and a Pacific Islander have in common? Sure as hell not language. Kappedal wipes one of his bloody hands against his equally bloody (and muddy) trouser sides before he approaches Tavua, cautiously. Shit, is he dead? "Hello?" Ah, how did that doctor say the native's name… "Tavua?" Butchered pronounciation, probably.

Annabelle gives a brief nod to Slayback. "Sure you did your best." She does not head to the cot right away but instead follows Fredricks over toward the basin. "Sir, if I can be of any service. I…" she swallows hard, but steadies herself, seeming reasonably composed all things considered. "I'd often assist my husband. He is…was, a doctor."

Tavua rolls over as Kappedal approaches. He sits up, grumbling a bit, nodding towards the man, indicating he got his name at least a little right.

"Um." Kappedal crouches down, biting back a grimace at how the mud and blood feel squishing in his boots. Ugh, gross. He taps his own chest where Tavua's injured, then points to the man's bandaged wound. "You're hurt." Pointing back to the aid tent. "Jason." The doctor had tried to give his name earlier. Maybe it stuck for the native. Maybe not. "Jason wants to help you." On the word 'help' he points to the red cross on his bag, hoping Tavua might recognise the symbol.

Slayback shakes his head at Anna, "No, ma'am. My best would've involved your friend making it back here to this aid station." He slips his boots on and tosses his puttees into his pack before walking out of the tent in whatever passes for a 'huff' in Slayback's world.

Fredricks takes the hand, and looks it over, injecting a styrette into Woods' hand, and starts to get to work, "Really." He says, speaking to Annabelle, as he begins, slicing into Woods' hand carefully turning the hole into an incision with practiced ease, "That's quite interesting," He says, as he checks the state of the mans hand, seeming satisfied, "If you don't mind, Ma'am, I'd like to ask your name, before I accept your help, and it might be worth the time if you rested for the evening and we discussed this in a moment." He gets out the stitches and needle, starting to sew up the incision. He looks to Woods, "You'll be fine here, Woods."

Tavua shakes his head in response to Kappedal, "I good." he states flatly, "Want sleep…" he adds, settling back, closing his eyes, leaving things at that.

Yeow! Poor Woods. He doesn't complain as work is done on his hand. He does smile faintly at Annabelle, probably trying not to be a total downer. He doesn't look as he gets an injection. He seems to be avoiding looking at the hand. "Okay," He murmurs, "Thanks Doc." He offers a feeble smile. Must. Not. LOOK. "Bet so. Just a little dent."

Right, then. Kappedal doesn't seem to know how to fight this, or even if he should. He doesn't try to wake the man, though, waiting until he's fallen asleep before checking the bandages, and adding a fresh dressing. Then it's off back to the tent, bringing the dirty gauze back with him.

Annabelle watches Slayback go for a moment before returning her attention to the doctor. She gives Woods a kind look. Not quite a smile, but hopefully reassuring. "Doctor's got you sorted out, sure enough." The goal is to give him something else to look at rather than his hand. "Annabelle Clark," she replies to Fredricks, watching his work.

Annabelle watches Slayback go for a moment before returning her attention to the doctor. She gives Woods a kind look. Not quite a smile, but hopefully reassuring. "Doctor's got you sorted out, sure enough." The goal is to give him something else to look at rather than his hand. "Annabelle Clark," she replies to Fredricks, watching his work. <re>

Slayback stands outside of the aid station, "I shouldn't've thrown my damn cigarettes away." He rubs at the back of his head and walks over to a palm tree, which he begins to stab at with his stiletto. Gotta have some way to release his stress. His other method is void since there's a lady present.

Fredricks finishes the sewing and wraps the hand, carefully, then ties it off, straightening, "There you go, Woods, I expect that to heal up nicely. "Still fit for duty." He says, and nods, "You can take off, let me know if there's any problems with that." He turns, looking to Annabelle, "Well, Ms. Clark, I'm Jason Fredricks, doctor attached to the first USMC unit here, many of whom you've met, I take it." He looks over her bloodstained form and rises, offering a bed, "Would you mind having a seat and letting me take a look to see how you're doing?"

"The native didn't want any more help," Kappedal reports back to Fredricks as he gets close, tossing the bloodsoaked gauze into the pile with the rest of the medical trash. "I changed his dressing. I'll check on him again during the night. Excuse me, missus." That's to Annabelle, upon seeing he interrupted a conversation. Rubbing his blood-caked hand against his nose, he looks at the nicely stitched Woods and tries to offer a smile.

Woods smiles meekly again. "Thanks both of you," He nods. He tries not to wriggle his fingers. "Will do, although I guess my aim'll be off then." He sighs. "Oh well," A smile. "I'm really grateful. Yell if you need anything," Nodnod. Woods quietly trundles off outside then, but not before smiling back at Kappedal. He pauses, and offers over a clean hankerchief, likely the last clean thing on Woods' person or gear.

"Doctor," Annabelle replies after the introduction, giving a slight bob of her head. She offers a distracted, "No worries," in response to Wodds' thanks, but her attention is now on Kappedal. "He'll be all right, aye?" She moves over to the cot that Fredricks is sending her to, offering only a mild protest. "I wasn't hurt. 'Twas a small miracle." Her voice catches a bit, but she still maintains her composure.

Slayback continues stabbing the palm tree outside for quite some time. After a little while he just slips his knife away and runs his hand through his hair, "Well…I'm spent." He shudders a little bit and bunches the palm tree quite hard. BAD IDEA. One of the ridges slices his knuckles open. He winces and makes his way into the aid station, "Doc…I punched a palm tree and split my hand open."

Fredricks looks at Kappedal, "Tell me there's not a piece of Japanese metal in him quietly breeding a lovely infection." Bullets are not forgiving. He looks to Annabelle, "I believe you, though, I have to admit.." He looks closely at Annabelles face, "You look a bit in shock. I might suggest cleaning up and some fresh clothes." He turns to Slayback, "You punched a palm tree. Same tree you shook earlier?" He asks, then lifts a hand, "Nevermind, Kappedal, could you check and wrap his hand, please?"

Woods pauses. "Did we-" Did they even BRING her spare clothes? Oh dear. His face clouds a bit. He tries not to blink at Slayback. "Umm… why are you punching the tree? I like coconuts. I might go outside and crack one open even," He seems pleased by this idea.

Kappedal shakes his head at Fredricks. "No bullet, I checked. There's an exit wound." He takes the handkerchief from Woods gratefully, cleaning gummy blood off his face where it's threatening to get into his eyes, and scrubbing off his rather prominent nose. "Want some water, ma'am?" He's asking Annabelle right before Slayback shows up and Fredricks directs. He motions Slayback over, pulling up the buckle on his medical pack. Iodine, gauze, stitching equipment. INSTRUMENTS OF PAIN.

Slayback shrugs at Woods, "I was pissed…now I'm not." He walks over to Kappedal, "So…go ahead with the Iodine. Y'know I've been shot and I don't think it stings more than Iodine to an open wound."

Annabelle averts her eyes under the doctor's scrutiny, brow creasing at the accuracy of his words. She looks down at the sorry state of her clothes. The blood and bits of… Anna hopes that's mud, but she was standing too close to the chunkified Japanese soldier to really convince herself of that fact. She looks queasy, steadying herself with a deep breath. "Yes, I…" she starts to answer Kappedal but trails off when he moves to attend the tree-assaulter. "Nevermind."

Kappedal sets down the iodine, eyeing Slayback. "You did it to yourself, you know," he informs the man with a lack of sympathy that's probably unbecoming someone connected with the medical profession. "Hold on." He stands up, grabbing one of their mess cups and filling it with water first, reaching over with both hands to extend it to Annabelle.

"Um. Maybe I can find something clean she can wear," Woods offers helpfully. They might be near the same height? "I'm pretty small and sneaky, if I really have to go back over there. Or I could sew one of the clean sheets-" Toga! Toga! Toga! No? He just gives Slayback a confused look. For now, Woods just looks a bit puzzled.

Slayback tilts his head at the tiny, Jewish medic, "Don't talk to me like I'm a child, Kappedal. I know what I did." He just stands there and waits to be treated.

Fredricks looks to Slayback and Keppedal, then back to Annabelle, nodding, "Go ahead." He says, kindly, "Have some water, and I'll have one of the men clear out a tent for you to clean up in and, if you can stand mens Khakis, we can get you some fresh clothes to wear." He says, "I'm afraid we can't spare a tent for you to sleep in, but we have extra beds here, and in the morning we can definately take care of everything else." He says, snagging a corpsman and delivering orders to give Annabelle some privacy to clean off.

Oh, it was about to be ON. Kappedal bites it back though, admirably for an eighteen year old, and tends to Slayback's hand in silence once Annabelle's been watered. Once that's done, he caps the iodine and puts it away, along with the extra gauze. The forceps get tossed in their antiseptic. He stands up, heading over to finally wash off his disgusting hands.

Annabelle takes the cup of water with trembling hands and a grateful nod to the medic. "Thank you." A glance to Woods. "You needn't trouble yourself. I can wear whatever's at hand. I'm grateful." She takes a drink of the water, but it does little to settle her stomach, particularly when she keeps noticing the muck on her hands and clothes. She mumbles something, probably an excuse me, and hurries out of the tent to be sick around the side.

And it would have been glorious. Woods gives Kappedal a sympathetic look at least. "'m sorry about that. He gets really tense…" That's polite for it at any rate. He rolls his shoulders, "Probably best to be around here anyway. Safety in numbers and all. We could put up a partition for her," He offers. Oh dear. And then she gets sick. A pause. Woods looks kind of awkward, "Right- I ah, I'll fetch some clothes and go back on watch before an NCO gets me…"

Fredricks nods to Woods, "If an NCO gets you send him to me for a colonoscopy." the boys might not understand it, but it certainly SOUNDS nasty, given how he said it. He moves to a cabinet, pulls out a small bottle, and adds it to the water, then heads out after Annabelle. doctors don't shoot much, but damnit, nothing grosses them out.

Kappedal moves out of the way quickly as Annabelle rushes by, glancing at Fredricks as the doctor heads off. Then briefly at Woods, as he flicks bloody water off his hands. "I can hang a blanket or something around her cot," he says under his breath. Which, now that both are leaving, he sets himself to doing. Blanket. Yeah. Hang.

Woods nods and smiles at Kappedal, "Sounds good." He grins at Fredricks. "Haha… I hope I'm never in line for one of those," He shivers. It SOUNSD ominous and that's enough for Woods. He tips his head respectfully and goes to find some clothes close to Annabelle's size. He'll return eventually.

Annabelle is on her knees around the corner of the tent, back of her hand over her mouth, looking as if her stomach still hasn't quite decided whose side it's on. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, she doesn't look up when Fredricks approaches.

Fredricks moves to Annabelles side and kneels, in a quiet, warm voice, he says, "It's alright. No one blames you. There's nothing wrong." He holds the water carefully, letting her retch. "You're entitled, Ms. Clark. when you're ready, rinse with this." He says, still soothing and careful with his tone, "when you're ready, I'll give you something to sleep. No dreams, I promise."

Kappedal finds a long string somewhere, and some crates to stand on as he works on getting the string affixed to two points in front of Annabelle's cot. Only having clips, needles, surgical thread, and straight pins to work with, this turns quickly into something much more complicated than it has to be. But hey, it keeps him busy.

Annabelle gives a weak nod to Fredricks. She's sick a few more times before it finally subsides with a choked back sob. She takes the water with a grateful look, rinsing out her mouth. "Much obliged," she murmurs to the doctor. "I'll feel better after I'm out…" She pauses, rephrases, "After I've cleaned up."

It's not easy getting people to give you clothes bigger than what you wear. Woods manages it eventually and returns with khakis and a blouse. "I hope these are about right," He wrinkles his nose and will set them safely on the cot. "But- I'll see you around," He smiles up at Kappedal, "Ben." Nod. See, Vince remembers. He offers a wave and will trundle off quietly.

Fredricks nods, "They're getting ready for you now, you'll be able to clean up and get some rest." He says, in a calm, low tone, "Whenever you're ready to go." He tells her.

"Night, Vince." Kappedal talks around the straight pins between his teeth, and gets back up onto his toes on a precarious crate to finish pinning. Whooooaa.

Annabelle still looks queasy, but her stomach has nothing left in it so she decides she's about as good as she's going to be for now. She nods, looking relieved at the prospect of being free from muck. "Can I trouble you for a hand up?" she asks softly.

Fredricks reaches to Annabelle, taking her hand, strong and comfortingly stable. He rises with her, and looks to her, offering the cup, "Rinse. There's peppermint extract in it." He assures her.

Woods smiles, although he hesitates to leave seeing Kappedal stand precariously. Once he's satisfied the man won't tip over, he wanders off. "Night," He chirps and disappears to conquer coconuts and make sure a roving NCO doesn't catch him.

Of course, it's about ten seconds /after/ Woods leaves the tent that Kappedal, having just pinned the last part of the blanket, pitches a little too far forward on the crate. His arms flail uselessly - what do Jews and Kiwis have in common? They can't fly! Crates crash and so does he.

Annabelle accepts the hand up with a murmured thanks, and then takes the cup. "Very kind, thanks." She jumps further than is really warranted at the crashing from inside the tent, and looks over in alarm.

Fredricks snaps his head to the Tent, and looks to Annabelle, "when you're ready." He assures, before he darts inside, "what was that?" He demands, looking around.

"Nothing." That's Kappedal's disgruntled-sounding voice. From somewhere on the floor. Under some boxes.

Annabelle rinses out her mouth some more before following, curiously, back into the tent.

Fredricks frowns and goes digging up a Jew in his Aid Station, unearthing Kappedal, "You alright?" He asks, noticing the fresh clothes, "Alright, good work." He says.

Kappedal is a bit flatter than he was a few minutes ago. That crate was heavy. His helmet's on the floor, having been knocked off, leaving the back of his dark head covered by a white kippah clipped to a few of his curls. He gets up, resilient is he, and wrinkles his nose, pointing up to the blanket. "That should do, right? She can pull it open and shut if she doesn't tug too hard on it."

"Much obliged to you, mate," Anna says, surveying the blanket arrangement. "I hope you didn't hurt yourself." She eyes him with gratitude and concern. Her arms are drawn across her chest, hugging herself against an imaginary chill. "May I take one of these basins?" she asks Fredricks, moving to get something with some water.

Fredricks pulls Kappedal upright and nods, "Fine work." He says to the man, then looks to Annabelle, "Of course. there's hot and cold water in the back, if you like. Take all the time you need, Ms. Clark."

"I'm fine, missus," Kappedal accepts Fredricks' hand up and then leans down to grab his helmet. "If you need anything just let me know and you'll get it." Except for obvious things. Like her husband back.

Annabelle nods gratefully to the pair of them, and quietly takes her basin and some towels and such. She fills them, then it's off to the curtained area to make some effort to get clean.

Fredricks looks to Annabelle till she's behind the curtain and pulls Kappedal to the far side of the station, "Okay, this went down twisted, I get that, what can you tell me about the operation?"

Kappedal is pulled. He sets his helmet down on a crate, glancing at the curtained area and then back at Fredricks. "There were four Japs," he says, keeping his voice way down and rubbing the back of his neck. "They had them hostage in this house." He stops a moment, his eyes falling from Fredrick's face to near his shoulder. The corners of them tense a little. "One of them, we saw him stab this man as we were coming up on them. I think that was her husband. We, um…we got in there and they were saying some kind of prayers and then some more Japs started shooting at us. Hit the other one, the priest." He doesn't know shit of difference between priests and reverends. "Tried to stop the bleeding but…"

Fredricks sighs, nodding, "but you were too late, or he was too far gone." He nods, "Okay." He takes a breath, "alright, I'll see what I can do about this, but she seems interested in helping. I'm inclined to let her. With the McCalla gone, she's likely going to be here, like it or not. I'll see what I can do to let her help around here, let you concentrate on extracting wounded men from the lines and get them back here, while she takes nursing duties. I think the Officers will go for it."

Kappedal shrugs one shoulder at the notion of her joining the ranks, so to speak. "They'll like her better anyway. She's prettier." He gives Fredricks a crooked smile, the humour a little forced. Rough night for everyone. "You know me, I'll just take the overflow what's needed."

Fredricks nods, "Yes she is." He confirms, "though if you want a rematch with Slayback, feel free to go for it." He nods, "I'll be sure to keep you in mind when we really get hammered by wounded." Just a matter of time, really.

Kappedal rolls his eyes subtly at the mention of Slayback, but that's it. "Just say the word," he murmurs. His eyes flicker back to the blanketed area, mindful of when Annabelle might emerge. Back to Fredricks, he whispers, "What's the church of England?"

Fredricks blinks, "Oh, God, she's Anglican?" He sighs, "Offshoot of christianity, created by Henry VIII, kind of like… Catholicism without the fervor?"

Annabelle gets cleaned up as best she can, the only sounds the sloshing of water. She pulls on the spare clothes, rolling up the sleeves, but takes a few moments to compose herself before emerging, barefoot, from the curtained area.

Kappedal raises both brows at Fredricks' reaction. "Created by Henry the Eighth?" His expression looks…kind of shocked. "They worship a /man/?" Oh boy. Now that he's looking at Fred he misses Annabelle pushing the curtain aside.

Fredricks sighs, "Well, no, but, it was created by.." He DOES hear Annabelles emergence, and turns, smiling, "Ah, well, Ms. Clark." He moves to the medicine cabinet, "Ready for some nice, blank rest?" He asks.

"Who worships a man?" Annabelle asks as she approaches the other two, looking genuinely confused, and also completely ignorant that she was the topic of conversation. The doctor's comment makes her shift uncomfortably. "If I could just trouble you for a bit of iodine first." She twists her foot a bit to show some scrapes and abrasions. "My shoes didn't hold up well on the trip back, I'm afraid. I didn't have my boots."

Kappedal looks a bit flustered still, though he gets it under control when Annabelle's voice becomes audible. Way to confuse the Jew. He looks between Fredricks and Annabelle and shakes his head to the latter. "Nothing, missus. I have some iodine." The buckle on his pack clanks softly as he tugs on it, flipping up the flap to find the little bottle.

Fredricks nods, "I'll get you a pair fo boots. Something in your size if you don't mind mens boots." He moves to collect the Iodine and gauze as well as two small white pills. He moves back to Annabelle. "These are sleeping pills, a good doseage for your size."

"Anything you have is fine," Anna replies. She's still a little puzzled by the worship exchange, but has far too much on her mind to really think much about it. "Thanks," said to the medic, then a look to the doctor. She eyes the pills for a moment before finally nodding. "Aye, I think that'd help," she admits, a tad reluctantly. "Thank you."

Kappedal surrenders the iodine to Fredricks, grabbing the man some gauze and handing that along as well. The church of England thing is let fall to the wayside. For now. "Are you hungry?" He asks Annabelle.

Fredricks nods, "It'll do you some good to have deep, restful sleep and not to dream. In the morning we'll be able to discuss the future here. He looks to Fredricks, then, Annabelle, brows lifted, food might be good for her.

Annabelle shakes her head to Kappedal. "No, thanks. I couldn't eat anything just now." She's still looking rather pekid, and is just as like to lose anything she did eat. "I'll just see to my foot and then…" A slight nod to the doctor. Off to lalaland.

"Alright." Kappedal doesn't look particularly surprised that she's not hungry. But he had to ask. He glances at the cup of water he gave her earlier, which presumably made it back into the tent, and picks it up, heading over to refill it for her.

Fredricks nods to Annabelle. "And then some rest. Of course." He looks to Kappedal, "Rinse that out, please, I added some peppermint extract earlier." He advises, "Well then I can imagine that you'd like all the privacy you can get, so this is good evening, Ms. Clark."

Annabelle nods to them both. "Thank you, Doctor. Private…I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." She reaches for the bottle of iodine and the gauze Kap had brought over.

Kappedal sniffs the inside of the cup. Yep, Fred wasn't lying. He rinses out the cup until the smell's gone and fills it back up, setting it down by Annabelle's new curtained home. "Binyamin Kappedal, ma'am." And after a second, the usual offering. "Ben."

Fredricks nods to Annabelle, "Of course. Rest well, and we'll speak more tomorrow." He says after Kappedal introduces himself. He moves back to let her have her privacy.

Annabelle dabs some iodine on her foot and then hands the bottle back. "Thank you, Ben," she repeats, this time with the proper name. She gives the doctor a grateful nod as well, then downs the two white pills and pulls the curtain closed. She does a good job of stifling the crying until the pills take effect and she drifts off to sleep.

Kappedal is shuffling away as soon as the curtain's closed, giving Annabelle privacy of sight and sound. He scratches the back of his hairline, free hand shoved into his pocket.

Fredricks puts a hand on Kappedals shoulder, "This is going to be quite difficult in the long run, another Wartime casuality." He scratches his head, "Healing more than just stitching flesh."

Kappedal doesn't say anything to that, for a while. "Better for her to have something to do, I guess," he says, at length. "She said she was a nurse at the…?" His finger makes a gesture in the vague direction of west, the word 'missionary' too uncomfortable to say.

Fredricks nods, "I can see it and she'll likely be able to handle just about anything from here on out." He sighs, "Well, I think that's enough for tonight, for her at least. I'm sure either she or I can answer more questions, though she might give you a missionaries position on any questions.

Watch that SAIL over Kappedal's head, whether unfortunately or not. He shrugs, as to the mention of questions, looking off towards the wall of the tent. There's nothing really there to look at besides your own thoughts. "I should repack my supplies. Do you need me to do anything right now?"

Fredricks shakes his head, "No, repack, check your equipment and get some rest. It's been a long, rough night."

"Aye aye." Kappedal pulls his helmet off the crate nearby and heads off towards where he left his pack. He doesn't get to it right off, settling a few things and then picking his way past wounded and weary to one of the tent's farthest corners, where he has room both to stand and to be on his knees. The sound of that peculiar minor-key chanting of his gets mostly lost in the din of the rest of the tent.

"Ayl molay rachamim, shochayn
ba-m'romim ham-tzay m'nucho
n'chonoh al kanfey hash-chinoh,
b'ma-alos k'doshim ut'horim
k'zohar ho-roki-a maz-hirim es
nish-mas…
…Edward Clark…
she-holach l'olomo
ba-avur shenod'vu tz'dokoh
b'ad haz-koras nishmoso…"

And so it continues on and on for a long time more, before he goes about with this business of quietly repacking those supplies.

Fredricks smiles as Keppedal chants, Letting his Hebrew chanting invades Annabelles subconscious. That'll make some funny brew.

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