Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20160208023602/@comment-5543592-20160209204815

Byron had removed his armor, first the plates and then the mail shirt, so that only a wool shirt with billowing sleves was left. How he had not been dying of heat stroke was impossible to know. He set his armor gently onto the couch, not wanting to be it any disservice, and then found himself a seat.

Victoria stepped forward, syringe in hand, and rolled the sleve up Byron's arm, revealing worn, calloused flesh underneath, skin tight with soldier's muscles but stringy with age. He seemed a little uncomfortable, entirely because it was a woman doing the work, but did not argue. Once the site was cleaned, she snapped a needle into his cephalic vein, and let it fill the vial at the end of the tubing. Once done, she removed the needle and set a bit of gauze over the cut and then wrapped tape around his arm to hold it in place.

"All done." She proclaimed.

Daniel smiled back, finally coming to full realisation. He stepped into the elevator doorway and leaned his back against the frame, and gestured for her to walk past him.

"I'm fine with that, so long as the same goes for you."