Bedside Manner [Lukas/Natasha]

CITY OF LIGHTS
A myriad of empty boxes sat at the foot of Lukas' hospital bed, the litany of warranties and receipts making for a toupee on the pile. Propped up on a handful of pillows, the quincy had enamored himself with fresh technology, the light of screens holding sharp against the early morning darkness. The keyboard snapping under his hands, a thin manila envelope at his side. A small stack of files perched on his bedside table, a freshly inked stamp labeling their contents from Africa.

Bandaged and bitter at his pain, Lukas had sunk himself into what he could. For now, what it was didn't matter. That he got his requisition before leaving the hospital, that mattered much more to him. Haven't had shit to do in here.

The anger still pulsed from each pang of feeling, the itch of his skin. In his mind's eye, fire; and in his heart, hate. Not like before, not a lashing, self destructive beast. For now, it sat underneath - seeking opportunity. As he'd move to close the laptop, a rap of knuckles on his door pulled Lukas' head out of reflex. A long hiss of air as pain twisted across Lukas' skin, his voice ragged in a reply. "Come .n."

Natasha wasn't particularly looking forward to this visitation period by any sense. To be quite honest, her mind was already on troublesome waters after the aftermath. Everyone's faith had been shaken to a considerable degree, to say nothing of the general sense of humiliation that hung heavy over their heads. Subordinates and division commanders alike had been soundly defeated and forced to retreat. Some almost died, others were left in dire condition, a select few wish they would have perished to avoid the nightmare that encompassed that entire night.

As it stood, people were either running away from her, experiencing a slow death, or relapsing into a realm of thought where she could not reach them. An unfair reality granted to no one but her. It truly was unbearable to endure any of this, but what else was there to do? She was a coordinator. Morale could be as low as zero, but did that mean she had any right to falter? Of course not.

Considering the reports that came in concerning Lukas battle, she already expected to see a not so pleasant sight considering the intense care that had been required for his burns. Since she earned herself the opportunity to visit him, she had already resolved to stomach whatever greeted her eyes. Might as well see things through, after all. Moving past the parted door, Natasha waved a tired hand in his general direction as she sat beside him, positioned a few meters apart from his bed. Observing his appearance, it was abundantly clear that the man had seen better days. He looked almost worse than a burn victim, resembling a shell of himself in appearance, enough to be recognized but little else. A grisly sight, to be sure, but the bandages made up for most of it, allowing her to move past her any distraction that might arise.

"Long time no see, Luke. Ya look like you've seen better days, sweetheart. They're allowin' visits now, so I decided I'd see ya now that I can kinda' walk alright on my own two legs. Ribs are still killin' me, though. Whatcha workin' on there on that laptop?"

A curious inquiry. Something to cut through the tense mood that might arise. He never was one for small talk, but what else was she to do? She respected the man well enough to visit and monitor his condition. He was a dogged and remarkable warrior among their forces. His methods might have been harsh, but no one could deny his talents and the tenacity he embodied. She owed it to herself to extend the same kindness and respect she would to any of her peers. If he wanted to turn her away after that, that suited her just fine.

CITY OF LIGHTS
The hospital door rang with a particular lack of grease, screeching as Natasha entered. Another obvious wince from the bedridden man. Closing the laptop as he turned - however little was still comfortable, anyway - he placed it atop the files, all lettering left out of sight.

"Res..rch. N..d somethin. t. keep me b.sy." Cracked lips stung with his words, shifting his gaze to a sink that lined the wall. Nodding towards it, Lukas motioned with his good arm.

"D. m. a f.vor, get me some water." When she would eventually ask 'With what?', a pained expression filtered Lukas' thoughts as he shifted slightly.

"There's a cup somew..re ar..nd here." Silver eyes flicked around the room, but the man was quite unable to locate it from his current position. Attempting to turn his neck any further racking pain across his chest and back.

"Stay still, Luke. I'll look for it. If I don't find it, I'll just make a cup on my own."

From the sound of it, if appearances hadn't made things any clearer, there was a noticeable inability to speak properly as well. That would make conversation less than ideal. Fortunately, he could speak enough for her to decipher the baseline of his intentions. Rising from her chair, she explored the room until she found the cup in question. Moving over to the sink, she filled the whole cup with water. Returning to her prior position, this time a little closer to the rail before, she leaned over with an inquisitive pair of hazel eyes, a half-playful smile crossing her lips, cup pressed against his hand. It was nothing like the bright expression she typically wore - mere mask of cheer as it was - but it was something to hopefully put the spirit's at ease.

"Need me to help ya drink it, too, darling?"

That was a genuine question, of course. She didn't know how well his body was working. From her point of view, it didn't look like it was working much at all, but there was progress in his condition at least. Last she heard, the bastard was out of commission for some time when they brought him back.

CITY OF LIGHTS
The man's good hand grabbed the cup with a relative force surprising for someone in his apparent state. A spark lighting in his eyes, there one moment and gone the next. "Thanks." he mumbled, a near desperate chugging leaving him winded as he placed it on his bedside table.

Lukas' eyes would be closed for some time, leaning back into the barely comfortable bedding. Just before Natasha might come to worry he went to sleep, or worse, they opened to lock onto the woman.

"Let me ask you a question." Ragged, deeper than usual. But more legible as his torn lips rubbed together. "Why do it?"

"Dunno. Do I need a reason to check on my fellow soldier in arms?"

Why do it? She supposed the question was fair. Expected, certainly. There was no complicated reply to answer his question. In her eyes, it was a matter of course to spare some form of respect and attention to someone who risked his life to achieve victory. Whether he did that for the Vandenreich or his own personal pride, she was uncertain. Either way, she supposed a more detailed answer would be appropriate unless she intended to come across as insincere.

"Guess a more fittin' answer would be that I care about ya' as well as any of my other fellow men and women in the force. Probably even a lil' more, considerin' I was yer mission supervisor and all that."

CITY OF LIGHTS
A remarkably shallow, dry laugh.

"T'is, Lukas gestured towards himself, a hand lowering from chest down. "'Urts you more t'an it 'urts me." The faint grin dissapearing as he pushed further up in his bed, sitting straighter.

"Recoverin' is part of t'e job when yer a professional killer. T'at, er a funeral. Not something to kick yourself over. Less when it's not your ass in the 'ospital bed." Lukas' eyes stayed clear, focused on the woman in front of him.

"Lemme ask again. Why do it? Why burn yourself when you can do anything else?"

Natasha quietly noted the shift of his fingers as he pointed to the scarred condition of his body. In response to his dry laugh, she simply rolled her eyes with a playful exasperation. There was a somber glint that laid unassuming in those hazel eyes, but it was so inconspicuous as to be nonexistent. She was familiar with this song and dance. It was never pleasant to dance to the same number, but the familiar territory made the act a little easier to endure. This was her duty, after all.

"Honey, this ain't my first rodeo. Before I joined the Reich, I was a soldier in a division reserved for those with a specialized talent for the supernatural. Saw plenty of people injured, and saw plenty of em' kick the bucket, too. Some adapted to that way of life, others perished. It's nothing new. I reckon that doesn't make the process any easier, though."

A soft exhale brushed forth from her lips as she reached forward to nudge him in the shoulder, leaning against her chair for a moment. His words weren't simply something she could brush off as casually as her words may have made it seem. After all, he was undeniably correct about one thing. Watching your fellow men and women lick their wounds was nothing less than a torturous reminder of that midnight massacre. She was none the better for wear herself, but that paled in comparison to the current state Lukas was in. The only positive - for what little good it did to ease the mind - was that he was conscious and seemed to more or less possess most of his cognitive thought and function.

"Anyway... if you were lookin' for a detailed answer, I got nothin' for ya, Luke. What else could I do, really, but be here? Sulk in a hospital bed while I avoid the harsh truth? Hell no. Yer' one of our strongest men here, and one of the select few bastards who ain't afraid to tell it how it is. 'Anything else' wouldn't make me feel any better, and I need to remind myself of what it is I'm fighting for so that there'll be lesser casualties next time around."

CITY OF LIGHTS
"Optimist pretending to be a realist, I get it. Mom was like that too, for a while." he'd half regard Natasha's response, silver eyes darting to his side as he shifted.

"Then do me a favor." Reaching across the hospital bed, Lukas returned to his pile of papers and laptop, emerging with a stapled and bound ream. Some frayed pages stuck out of the otherwise tightly kept paper, barely legible writing mixing in with painfully noticed script. With a wince, he'd reach down, to producing a manila envelope. Packing the paper inside, his face crossed with pain as pain crossed his chest.

"When I'm out of here, if I suddenly disappear, or you hear something happened about me, you send this out. Since you can read the address anyway, it's going to a little press outfit in Africa, Found'em one day crowding the camp, trying to get interviews. Asking about the hole."

Tapping the package, he'd seal it fully, passing it to his fellow quincy, slow and careful as his body needed. "As for what's in it, probably best if you don't know."

"Somethin' like that. Far as I see it, a lil' bit of optimism never hurt nobody."

Natasha had no intention of pressing the subject beyond that. He wasn't entirely wrong, and she wasn't going to argue particulars over her visit, either. As long as he appeared alright with it, she wasn't complaining one bit. She did mean what she said moments ago, though. She isn't visiting for his sake alone, her desires stretching well beyond monitoring his condition. What she genuinely wants to know is whether or not everyone still has the fighting spirit after getting their asses handed to them. Somewhere deep down, a fierce anger boiled within her spirit like a curse. Recognizing the downtrodden expressions, and remembering the fear she felt on that battlefield, these are but reminders of what she wants to avoid.

Of course, before she could reflect on that train of thought for too long, Lukas filled the silence with an odd statement. In a matter of a few seconds, a package is handed to her. Befuddled, she gazes down at the envelope with a curious tilt of her head. His words felt pretty damn ominous. Did he expect her not to ask what was inside this thing after that? Best if she didn't know her ass. She was at least gonna pose a question before she did him a favor.

"I certainly don't mind doin' a favor for ya, honey, but I'm a curious sort. What's so secret about this package that I don't need to know? Is it something Todgestalten related?"

That would make sense if it was. If anything, that would end any of her curiosity afterward. Either way, it was a simple question that could simply be brushed aside. Up to him, really.