calligraphy
Linya is working on a massive flowchart-like diagram of a planned software project for Dr. Cheung. It's laid out in every color and in three dimensions with sprawl of its little writing that takes up most of her office and keeps fading out at the edges and in her shadow when she moves around, but reappears when she turns or approaches.
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Linya waits. There is piano involved.
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Miles badgered his doctors into summoning me to his hospital room so he could inform me of how disappointed he is in the scope and accuracy of my pre-mission briefings. It's possible you could convince them to let you in as well, although 'conscious and able to swear inventively' is the best I can say about his condition when I saw him, so you might be better served to wait until official visiting hours later this week.
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Linya goes and attempts to convince the doctors to let her in to have a look at her husband.
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Her husband is... conscious. And able to grin at her. And very, very flat. His entire torso is encased in a plastic immobilizer, perhaps to stop him doing anything as unwise as try to sit up.
"What a pleasant surprise," he croaks. "I'm sure I'm not allowed visitors yet, the fellow was very clear about that while I was making him fetch Simon for me..."
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"How much do you already know...?"
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"They were banking on it making me all goofy and pliable. It, uh, didn't. They got pissed off. Not much interesting to tell from there, until Bel broke in to rescue me, at which point I'm afraid I mumbled sexually suggestive tongue-twisters at it until I passed out."
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