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[ Unlike the last time Jon has appeared on this network, this time it's very intentional. And it's very obvious that it is intentional. Apparently he has found himself a usable desk (presumably in the hospital) and has taken the time to prop up his phone appropriately to address his fellow involuntary inhabitants of this lovely place.

It's also rather obvious that he has been using this desk for a few days now at least. There is a comparably neat stack of paper in front of him, two or three notebooks, an assortment of pens, two different types of tape recorders along with some tapes and an empty mug all rather present and no, he doesn't really care about the slight mess. He himself looks a little messy himself, though that's just his normal state of being perpetually tired. But... There are more important things right now, right? Like... How to even start. ]

Uhh... Good evening.

[ That's just remotely awkward. But okay. ]

I have- I mean. I already spoke to a few of you. Either through this network or at an actual encounter in person and... I suppose you might have noticed me at that little welcome home party the Agrii have set up, but... Let's not talk about that. That was... Dreadful.

[ He pauses a moment to sort his thoughts, then goes on. ]

To those I haven't met yet: Hello. I'm Jonathan Sims and I have agreed to help with the hospital.

[ Here he makes a short gesture with one hand to indicate his surroundings. He is indeed at the hospital. Maybe that's your clue to avoid needing medical help anytime soon?

He drops that hand back down. ]

Further, I have decided to take on the task of turning what is left of what appears to have been a library once back into an actual library. To be more precise: I plan to make recordings along with written pieces and store them there once the place is cleaned up. These may serve for our own reference, but also for the Agrii if they are so inclined. My hope is that by teaching them about ourselves, our worlds and our language, we can achieve a more successful way of communicating with them. Learn to understand what they want and need and- You get the idea.

Now what I need is to find a suitable format to record on. While I work with magnetic tapes a lot myself for certain reasons, I am not unfamiliar with digital recordings. Also I am well aware that some of you come from worlds that are technically far more advanced than my Earth happens to be, so I... I would be interested to know if there are more practical formats available. Preferably ones that allow for video as well as audio recordings and don't necessarily require additional hardware for playback. Your universe's version of the data points to be found across this city, for example, just possibly without that direct access to a person's mind. Given that we may soon have access to a functioning replicator... It should be possible.

[ He lets that hang there, then takes a moment to try and think what else he might have to add. He ends up with a short shrug and half a sigh. ]

I guess that's it. If you have a suggestion you believe might work, I would very much like to hear it. And before you ask: Yes, I am planning to keep a purely digital library along with a physically accessible one.

Thank you.

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After a lot of searching, yes. It's not a lot, but enough to handle an emergency or two. Risa was a blessing, despite the heat. I managed to stock up on some supplies there. At the very least the hospital is more equipped now than it was- and I've handled a crisis here before.

[It's a little and it will help, but it's not a lot. Altair hopes that they won't have any more emergencies any time soon. Calvin arriving as injured as he had had been a true test not only of Altair's abilities but his ability to make use of the scavenged supplies on hand, too.

Things haven't exactly been easy.]

And it's alright- she has asked for me, specifically. It would be nice to have another set of hands there as well, but...

[Well, Sansa may not be comfortable with it, and he'll respect her wishes.]

We'll just have to wait and see what happens. Most important is making sure we have a suitable room for it. Not only for the birth itself, but afterwards too.

Of course. You're certainly capable enough to handle such a matter by yourself.

[ He's willing to help, but... You know. He only gets to see and know stuff. Nothing compared to fancy space magic. ]

Some of the beds here are in decent enough shape, at least. Though I dread the thought of cleaning those mattresses.

[ Destroying those seems like a more reasonable approach. ]

I'll take care of it myself.

[It needs to be done. Maybe destroying them would be the reasonable approach, but they can't really afford to be choosy either. They just need to make use of what they have.] Can't have people on the floors, after all.

[Their work at the hospital really is necessary. Injuries seem so much more likely now, after seeing what the storms are like.

They have their work cut out for them.] Least of all a mother and newborn child.

I really don't want to sound grim, Altair. But the survival rate of an infant being born under these conditions doesn't strike me as particularly high. And I doubt that the Agrii will suddenly turn out to be of any help.

They might not be as high as if the child had been born on Risa. That doesn't mean I won't do my best to ensure the child's survival.

[More than his best.

If something happens to Sansa or her child, Altair will probably blame himself. Of course, he doesn't say that.]

And it could be worse. I was born in a slave settlement, and I survived. And children in my world are born in worse conditions all the time. [It might not be right.

But it happens.] All we can do for now is prepare as much as we can.

And yet the main difference between us, a slave settlement, a slum in a region torn apart by war or any medieval village is that we lack experience, Altair. We can't call for the village elder that helped birth almost the entire community and knows to properly interpret signs and symptoms. An average human birth takes around ten hours and more, Lord forbid any complications.

[ Altair, tell him to stop thinking about this or he will end up stressing himself senseless. ]

It's a dangerous, stressful situation for everyone involved and we can't even say we have any sort of basic painkillers available! We hardly know anything about our flora to improvise with whatever herbs grow out there. What if the child doesn't turn around the way it should? Or strangles itself? Or the mother bleeds out? How do we know anything is going the way it should when we know nothing?

[ And what else bothers him? Is that he might find himself wanting to simply drink in all that agony and dread. And if he were completely honest? That's what still scares him the most. Because he knows he would like it. Consider it right. ]

[What Jon says it right of course. And it worries him. And he won't lie and say that he's not stressed.

It's not going to be easy- but they don't have a choice. The child is going to come, whether they're prepared for it or not. Best they prepare as best they can.

Just ignore that crackle of electricity that runs along Altair's arms, showing his stress more clearly than his expression.] No reason to work ourselves up over it now.

[He sighs. He already doesn't sleep nearly as much as he should, and his eating habits have already taken a hit.] For now, we do what we can.

[He switches his communicator off then, and not too long after, rounds the corner to where Jon is.] It's all we can do, anyway.

[ And it's true that they can only do as much as is possible for them. But Jon wishes there were more.

He doesn't fail to notice the surge of energy, of course. Another reminder that he is surrounded by super-powered beings he would rather not have to think of him as just another monster to hunt down. It may be a justified conclusion, but one he's scared of.

When Altair shows up, Jon raises his head from where he has been staring at nothing in particular, his fingers occupied with a pencil. It's moments like this when he could really use a cigarette to calm his nerves. ]

You're right, but...

[ It's a lot. A lot that can go wrong and even more to stress about. ]

And you look terrible.

That bad? [Altair asks with a bit of a laugh.]

It's just stress. [And not sleeping or eating as much as he should.

He did better on Risa, but now? Well, there's a lot to worry about.] And fear, perhaps. But Sith use their own fear and that of others to grow strong. So maybe I'm not quite stressed enough.

[That was a joke.]

I'm sorry.

[ Jon sighs, but looks apologetic. ]

I didn't mean to add to it. It's just.... A lot.

[ A lot to worry about. A lot that can go wrong. A lot they just don't know. ]

You should get some rest. This? It can wait until tomorrow.

I'm alright. Chiss need less sleep than other species, anyway. [Maybe. He thinks.

He honestly still doesn't know as much about his own species as he'd like to.] And I am used to the stress.

Emperors, as I came to find at home, don't get much rest. There's always some crisis to handle. [He shrugs.]

And if it's not a crisis, it's paperwork, or some diplomatic meeting. So whether or not it's true that Chiss need less sleep, I've learned to kiss any notion of rest goodbye.

But you are no emperor here, Altair.

[ Jon's tone takes on a more direct notion, leaning more towards the one he used to direct his assistants. ]

There are none of those duties here. No meetings, no paper work, none of that. If you want to be of any use while we're here, one of your main duties will be to make sure you are rested and are not about to fall over from lack of energy.

You said you're alright. But that's not enough. Get some food. And get some rest.

I look that bad? [It's said as almost a laugh, because honestly. Does he really look like he's that tired?

If anything, after their vacation, he should be looking more rested than ever. Not that he's incapable of stressing himself out. If anything, he's extremely good at it.

After all, here as well as at home, he worries more for others than he does for himself.] I appreciate your concern, of course. But I can't exactly look like I'm on death's doorstep?

No. But you shouldn't wait until you have reached that point to finally get some rest.

[ The Archivist narrows his eyes at the Chiss, then plants his hand still holding the pencil on the desk before him and pushes himself up into a standing position. It's a little odd to be taller than someone else, but Jon isn't one to complain.

Crossing his arms lightly, he inclines his head. ]

So when was the last time you ate and slept? Tell me.

[ And he is, indeed, consciously accessing his compulsion powers at this point. Altair may be immune to it, but Jon isn't exactly aiming to force the information out of him. He just wants Altair to understand that he's being serious.

The Sith should be able to tell the difference in strength between the last, accidental question Jon has asked and this one. Which weighs a lot heavier and has a stronger, much more directed pull. There's a power here. A dreadful one perfectly capable of reaching into an unprepared mind and tear out what it wants. ]

[He can tell. Oh, he can tell.

He sighs softly, but really- he's touched that Jon cares so much about his well-being. They haven't known each other for entirely too long, but he's a good friend. Altair wonders what he can do to repay him for it.

He has to, after all. To receive without giving anything back feels wrong.] I'll get some rest.

[For now, he'll just have to accept it, and rest so Jon won't have to worry about him. Still, he avoids directly answering.] And some food.

... Once I've done that though, you and I should have a cup of tea together. Be that later today or tomorrow.

[He brought some back and he's more than sure Jon did too. And it feels like that might be a good way to ensure that they both relax a little.]

[ Jon's posture relaxes almost immediately, and so does the lingering pressure from his compulsion as he closes his eyes for a moment and exhales, then nods. ]

Good. I'm glad to hear that.

[ After blinking twice he reaches for an empty box, one of several stacked neatly behind the reception of the hospital's emergency entrance. The medical supplies they once contained are long since useless and set aside with other trash, but at least the containers can still be used, so Jon goes about to put his notebooks, pens, his recorder and an actual book inside before reaching for the lid. ]

And tea sounds lovely. Let's do that tomorrow. I... I think I might spent the rest of the day reading.

[ By which he means that he's heading over to the library. Taking some notes and... Well. Probably not get to do any of that reading. ]

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