[ it's the low muttered, sheepish apology Andyr hears from across the medbay at first, where he's been allowed to sit against a wall somewhere and frown at everyone passing by, given he isn't supposed to be heading out into the ship without a physical, and he's refused to let anyone touch him for that physical as of yet. maybe they thought he might calm down if they left him alone for a while. or if they left steve, the alvary-clone, chat with him. they'd gone on a wake around the ship earlier, and it'd been calming, but he still wasn't Posie and wasn't Alvary. No one's touching him, no one's scanning him.
at least, not until he hears that voice, and it's with the kind of dad-tone Andyr just knows as that freaking loser Alvary. he's snapped up from his chair, shouldering past several people (who aren't terribly happy about being shoved around, but who fucking cares about them honestly), and making it over to Alva just in time to see him nearly slap a lab tech through a wall. Well, they'd tried to prod at the ports, and that's about the least okay thing you can possibly do to any of them.
shuffling becomes long strides, and before anyone can say "i'm sorry, sir", Andyr is in the lab tech's face, practically baring teeth at them. words don't really need saying - get the fuck away from his back, thanks. once the tech's shuffled away, Andyr turns back to squint down at the ports in question, a hand on Alva's shoulder to urge him to arch forward a bit, enough that they're in the light and Andyr can make sure nothing's been messed up with them. idiot techs poking and prodding at stuff they aren't familiar with. ]
They look fine. You're good, Alva. [ There's a squeeze to his shoulder, something comforting, as he knows just how traumatizing it is just feeling those rings of metal at your back as you stretch, remembering that they're there at all and the process it took to install them. Alva's been like a brother to him, hell, like a freaking father, with the gap that'd been left there and all the talk of Marya, and seeing him here is an instant flood of relief, dissipating all the wound up tension. And this one, he knows, is Alva. Iterations don't get ports. Not like his, at least. ] You okay? Did they do anything to you?
i, spine ports: a space opera
at least, not until he hears that voice, and it's with the kind of dad-tone Andyr just knows as that freaking loser Alvary. he's snapped up from his chair, shouldering past several people (who aren't terribly happy about being shoved around, but who fucking cares about them honestly), and making it over to Alva just in time to see him nearly slap a lab tech through a wall. Well, they'd tried to prod at the ports, and that's about the least okay thing you can possibly do to any of them.
shuffling becomes long strides, and before anyone can say "i'm sorry, sir", Andyr is in the lab tech's face, practically baring teeth at them. words don't really need saying - get the fuck away from his back, thanks. once the tech's shuffled away, Andyr turns back to squint down at the ports in question, a hand on Alva's shoulder to urge him to arch forward a bit, enough that they're in the light and Andyr can make sure nothing's been messed up with them. idiot techs poking and prodding at stuff they aren't familiar with. ]
They look fine. You're good, Alva. [ There's a squeeze to his shoulder, something comforting, as he knows just how traumatizing it is just feeling those rings of metal at your back as you stretch, remembering that they're there at all and the process it took to install them. Alva's been like a brother to him, hell, like a freaking father, with the gap that'd been left there and all the talk of Marya, and seeing him here is an instant flood of relief, dissipating all the wound up tension. And this one, he knows, is Alva. Iterations don't get ports. Not like his, at least. ] You okay? Did they do anything to you?