Post by Admin on Mar 31, 2016 5:51:05 GMT
Postby DeirdreMcGowan » Mon Aug 18, 2008 6:04 am
Deirdre wasn't a stranger to being burned. She'd been sticking her long fingers into the innards of all types of things ever since she was a child and had paid for some of the attempts. From one incident with her family's antique stove to another with an even more antique combustion engine, she'd felt the heat on her pale skin too many times. This was certainly the first time however that she'd been covered head to toe with them.
Exploding consoles were a pain in the ass, she'd concluded as she laid upon a biobed in sickbay receiving another dermal regeneration. She was assured by the doctors that her burns were relatively superficial, and they'd have her back in action for tomorrow's shift. Unfortunately for her, the superficial nature of the burns meant more pain than if it had been more serious. A fact of medical science she'd never been able to figure out.
Meanwhile she assumed that Thornton and the others, those that she hadn't seen stumbling or being carried into sickbay as well anyway, were busy little bees in putting the ship back together. It was slightly galling, and very annoying, that she was unable to direct the effort and get her hands dirty. The last thing she'd seen before the flash was damage to one of the nacelles, and she was itching to check on it. Not to mention being itchy everywhere else. It was, all in all, completely miserable even if the pain was now down, thanks to repairs and analgesics, to a mild discomfort.
The last straw for the fiery Irishwoman was that her hair had caught a good deal of the blast, and the singed smell was still stuck in her nostrils. She wasn't the most vain of women, far from it. She did love her hair, however, no matter how often she ended up shoving it into a ponytail or a bun. The fact that she would have to have it chopped down quite a bit to account for the damage... By all that's holy she'd figure out some way to defeat those damned pirates and incinerate them. They would pay.
Deirdre wasn't a stranger to being burned. She'd been sticking her long fingers into the innards of all types of things ever since she was a child and had paid for some of the attempts. From one incident with her family's antique stove to another with an even more antique combustion engine, she'd felt the heat on her pale skin too many times. This was certainly the first time however that she'd been covered head to toe with them.
Exploding consoles were a pain in the ass, she'd concluded as she laid upon a biobed in sickbay receiving another dermal regeneration. She was assured by the doctors that her burns were relatively superficial, and they'd have her back in action for tomorrow's shift. Unfortunately for her, the superficial nature of the burns meant more pain than if it had been more serious. A fact of medical science she'd never been able to figure out.
Meanwhile she assumed that Thornton and the others, those that she hadn't seen stumbling or being carried into sickbay as well anyway, were busy little bees in putting the ship back together. It was slightly galling, and very annoying, that she was unable to direct the effort and get her hands dirty. The last thing she'd seen before the flash was damage to one of the nacelles, and she was itching to check on it. Not to mention being itchy everywhere else. It was, all in all, completely miserable even if the pain was now down, thanks to repairs and analgesics, to a mild discomfort.
The last straw for the fiery Irishwoman was that her hair had caught a good deal of the blast, and the singed smell was still stuck in her nostrils. She wasn't the most vain of women, far from it. She did love her hair, however, no matter how often she ended up shoving it into a ponytail or a bun. The fact that she would have to have it chopped down quite a bit to account for the damage... By all that's holy she'd figure out some way to defeat those damned pirates and incinerate them. They would pay.