[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#4dffa6]Dorothy Pender[/color][/h1][img]http://33.media.tumblr.com/801000a301331df2468f6e609b18bf70/tumblr_nq561eNmIa1t6nh3oo1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][center]Location: Dining Room[/center][hr][hr]The entire medical bay had been cleaned and reorganized, shimmering almost in all of its glory. After the latest firefight, and the looming approach of the Alliance, it was the only way Dorothy could settle her nerves. Her baby sister was the pilot, and already, Daphne had nearly been killed. Another inch or so over, and the shot wouldn't have just grazed her temple. 

And it wasn't as if the other wounded on the ship had decided to listen to the doctor. No, Anisa had taken it upon herself to practically [i]ensure[/i] further injury to herself. Camilla, as far as Dorothy knew, was doing the same exact thing. Bodies needed time to heal--time that they didn't have, she knew. Dorothy had become hyper aware of each passing second, each tick on the clock. It would have been enough to drive her crazy, if she hadn't dismantled it from the wall of the medical bay. She had started sleeping in the room as well, using her jacket as a blanket of sorts, as she curled up in the corner, waiting. 

But as the beeping from the bridge drifted into the dining room, where Dorothy was pouring over a medical text, reexamining the diagrams in between mouthfuls of stew. She glanced up at Camilla, and while she was glad to see the Captain had let her out of her confinement, her heart sank as she heard Daphne's replies. If her sister was killed in any ensuing firefight, she feared she would only have herself to blame.