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Another sip of grog. Doc was good and loose. In control but loose.
"You need not thank me, Senorita," he said with a soft smile, "treat people right and they'll return the gesture, well, most of the time." He thought of Gallic Royals before the "well."
"As I've told so many, I don't care who you are, who you're affiliated with or what side of the law you walk. You show courtesy, respect and I'll do what I can to help and if I can't directly, I'll find someone who can."
He then leaned forward, "And you can't make someone feel old that doesn't feel old themselves," he joked before sitting back.
He looked at her for a moment as he re-filled his glass and then hers, "Do give it time. That special someone will show up. You're an attractive woman, Senorita. A lot of men would jump at the chance to be with you."
He thought a moment, holding his glass on the table, "You know, we've gone through family, kids, history and who knows what else. What I haven't told you is what I have in mind to try and treat you with. Have you ever heard of Nanites?"
He took a sip. Putting the glass down, he put up a hand, "please just never ask where I got them."
Oh, she would've loved to counter that saying of the Golden Rule with her own list of numerous examples of treachery and deceit back in her dark, hopeless assassin days... but that would've just turned the mood sour now, wouldn't it? Besides, it wasn't a bad line itself, in the few circumstances she was given the chance to explain herself... a circumstance like now, it seemed.
She blushed when Doc complimented on her beauty... as if she could blush any further, what with her face already burning like it was. It wasn't supposed to affect her that much: there were lots of men who've indeed called her beautiful, but those times simply felt like they didn't give two tacos about her personality. Was it because Doc was gentlemanly-enough to her? Maybe it was just the Grog in her system that helped magnify an otherwise-mundane statement... Yeah. Definitely the Grog. It's a good thing he was helping her finish the Black Grog, normally by this time she would've been moping and sobbing all over the place. She was starting to lose grip on herself...
... But the grip was still there, at least. And it manifested when Doc asked her about Nanites. She was still able to pause herself, lean her forehead onto her fingertips, and really think long and hard if there were any instances she's ever heard the word before. Soon enough, the answer came to her. "Nada, Senor. Never heard of these Nanites before. But from its name alone, I can guess it has something to do with Nanotechnology? Modified nanobots, perhaps? Doesn't sound so bad... Hopefully it won't be invasive." She paused as she gave the Doc a cheeky smile, "... Not saying I'm a coward when it comes to needles, but...
"Oh, I suppose I should tell you this now, Senor. I have this strange condition... My sense of touch is extremely sensitive. The slightest breeze feels like a fan at high settings. Coming out into the cold air after a warm shower is almost unbearable. Changes in temperature and pressure that most people wouldn't bat an eye towards? Yeah, I can basically tell if storms are coming in just by feeling them. Really helps when you're trying to snipe, especially with projectile weapons, Senor. The flight suit I'm wearing HAS to be lined with OSC-grade silk because I find many fabrics uncomfortable, even painful to wear, while what most would call an ant-bite would be a point-blank shot with a sidearm for me. The only reason I don't mope around in pain so much is cause I've strengthened my will enough to tolerate it to average-human levels, heheh. This condition is inborn, Senor... long before my Rite, so you can't blame it for my condition.
"Still, it has it's moments... I can tell you, my favorite spots to hang out in are calm swimming pools..." She sighed as she wrapped her arms around herself sensually, "Suspending myself deep in water... with not a stitch of cloth on me, so the water could surround me... tickling me, and slowly and intimately caressing over my entire womanly body... Mmmm, oh how I miss the pool already!"
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"The nanites I speak of are like nanobots but unlike their mechanical cousins, they are living organisms," he explained. "I experimented with them in curing disease. They can be trained and have a liking for diseased flesh, not healthy flesh. My successes have been quite limited. I guess I'm trying to avoid surgery which with laser scalpels, isn't all that bad. And yes, nanites are injected."
Doc consumed more Grog as he listened about her condition. He was feeling tipsy now and open. Nanite research was something he told no one about as it was a secret. Hopefully, it would stay that way.
The pool. He could take a hint. Baffin had one and at this time of day, it saw little use. Even then, it could be secured.
"Interesting," he answered her, "it sounds to me like you've found ways to adapt albeit it's not easy at times I'm sure."
He put his glass down. "Well, if it would be helpful to you, there is a large pool on station. I encourage fitness so people use it for that and relaxation. Not far from it is a spa so you would find it....comforting."
Yup, the Grog was impaling him. He began to snicker and joked, "Let's skinny dip!"
The woman frowned at the sound of the word 'injected'. Great... Well, the road to recovery never said it was gonna be easy. Maybe Doc will be merciful enough to say it'll only be something like a one- or two-syringe job. The last thing she needs right now is to know she's gonna be turned into a human pin cushion, when her condition would make the experience feel more like she just resigned herself to a firing squa-
... Wait a minute. "Senor... Did you just say there's a pool here? Es muy bueno, Senor! If I had known this station had a pool, I would've been staying there instead of drinking my worries away in a bar! And you say we can skinny dip there? Muy, MUY bueno!"
While the prospect of skinny dipping in the pool was, beyond all doubt, an opportunity she couldn't afford to pass up, a small voice inside told her she wasn't supposed to. But the Grog had now gone far too deep into her system, while the idea of a swim in the pool rebuked the distant voice and made it feel even more moot.
She slammed the tankard to the table and tried to stand up. A little wobbly, but still had fine enough motor control, apparently! "Senor, we have little time to lose! You must take me to this station's lovely swimming pool. My body screams to be pleasured as soon as possible." She offered her hand to the illustrious Doc Holliday, her eyes practically begging him to take her away to a whole new level of heaven.
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Doc slowly rose from the table, a bit wobbly on his feet but still stable.
"This Grog," he stated, "I need to be more careful with it."
He then took his datapad out and paid his tab, leaving a generous tip on the bill. With a nod to the bar keep, he put on his hat, took her hand and escorted his guest out.
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