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Who| Julian, open!
What| Julian is checking each floor for people to help and items to make the Science Brigade's life easier.
Where| All floors
When| Week 2, all week
Warnings/Notes| Fighting in here, eventually.

Julian wasn't about to bow to the Capitol's game. Not yet. Johanna might be disappointed in him, but he had his morals, his laws to follow--personal and otherwise. Starfleet officers were to conduct themselves with decorum, to help those who needed it. As a doctor, he was doubly responsible.

Being in one piece as he was, and experienced enough to avoid conflict or perhaps even end it if it came to that, Julian had volunteered to go out looking for items to bring back to their encampment in the planetarium. It meant he could also scout for people injured, and in need of assistance.

Throughout the week, he moved from floor to floor, cautious and aware of his surroundings, but offering no threat himself to anyone he might encounter--though he is armed.

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Venus is fighting an infection in the wound on her thigh, now, and so Kankri's taken to letting her sleep and prowling the floors for things they might need and assessing the situation himself. She's sleeping less, too, which has him concerned. She needs all the rest she can get. Surely he can keep himself in one piece long enough for her to have the time she needs.

On this particular day he's looking through the fridge in the cafeteria again, hoping against hope that there might be something high in energy or nutrients or whatever else she might need. Even with the contents picked through quite a few times by the other Tributes, it would probably be a lot easier if he knew what half the things humans ate were and also could read the labels on the packages.

In his focus on finding what he needs, his concentration on his surrounding has lapsed.

Luckily for Kankri, Julian isn't the type to take advantage of his distraction and attack. He walks into the cafeteria again, for the second time that week, but by now the items there would be running thin as people hoarded them away. He stops when he sees another person--but after a moment recognizes what Kankri is--younger, same species as Disciple, distracted by something or other. He seemed worried, and puzzling over food...well, there was something going on here, to be sure.

But Julian couldn't just let him go on as he was, and get attacked by a more unscrupulous individual that would surely be right after him. Julian observed for a moment, and when he saw no threat in evidence, approached the other, smiling and making nit as obvious as he could that he was there to help.

"Excuse me."

Kankri's scared half to death by the sudden announcement of Julian's presence. He clutches his crowbar in a defensive gesture as he stumbles back, wide-eyed. This human is smiling and looking friendly, but that Kevin guy was doing the same thing while he was slicing Venus's face open and biting part of her leg off. It's soured Kankri on friendly overtures a little.

"What do you want?" His voice is just a little bit trembly. He's kicking himself inside. He just should have taken whatever he could and let Venus tell him what would be best for her, but no, he had to waste time.

There really is no way to politely announce your presence in a deathmatch. At Kankri's reaction, Julian steps back, hands up, looking concerned--but not afraid. At least he'll remain so until Kankri starts swinging that crowbar.

"Just to help, I assure you--you're from the same world as The Disciple, are you not? I'm one of the others from District 7, my name is Julian. I'm a doctor."

Though from what he'd heard of her world, he did have to wonder where this boy fell in it. He supposed his reaction to her name would tell him something, if he knew her at all. After all, shared species hardly was a basis for friendship, even knowing each other.

Kankri relaxes slightly, only slightly - but hearing that this man is a doctor makes him perk up nevertheless.

"I'm actually not. We're the same species, but our worlds are entirely different," he corrects primly, because letting anyone think he's from Alternia is unacceptable to him. "You're a doctor? So you would know about what foods are best for humans, right?"

His fear and worry are plainly broadcasted on his face. Venus has been a good friend to him, protected him from danger, and he wants to do at least something to repay her.

"Ah, my mistake. She did tell me about it, a little. It didn't sound like a pleasant sort of place." To say the absolute least. Somehow, Kankri's tone makes him think the other won't be insulted by the slight. As it was, though, Julian just thought he was perhaps from a colony, not a different reality entirely.

"I do, yes. Anything in here should be acceptable in a pinch, if not particularly nutritionally complete. Certainly better than the last go we had."

Julian inclines his head. "If you're in here looking instead of your friend...may I ask what's wrong?"

Kankri looks down to the floor. He's not sure he should be telling anyone about Venus's condition, not when they're all trapped in a fight to the death. But this man is a doctor, and he doesn't know what to do.

"She's been...hurt. Badly. I mean, she was hurt since the start, but she was all right for most of last week. But a few days ago a...man attacked her. He cut open her face and bit some off her leg. I stitched her back up, and we've been doing our best to keep it clean, but..." He gives a helpless little shrug. "She pushes herself too hard, because I can't fight and she's been looking after me. She needs to rest and eat something besides stale pastries, but she insists she's fine...so I thought I'd go out and do the supply run for her while she was sleeping. But I don't know what most of this is, and I can't read human letters."

Just when he thinks things can't get any worse. Lord. Julian looks disturbed, beyond disturbed--people biting chunks off each other is well beyond anything he's ever experienced.

"I'll help you find something here, and I have medical supplies. I'd like to take a look at it myself, but if you're not comfortable with that, I'll send some of them with you."

Because honestly.

Kankri looks more than a little sick at the memory, himself. Kevin was a very disturbing person, to say the least.

"I- I'd appreciate that," Kankri mumbles, shamefaced. "I mean, we do already have a few kits, we've been getting a lot from the sponsors and our mentors, so I think we're all right, but. If you could explain what the things in the kit are to me? When I was stitching her up she tried to insist on not using the anesthetic and I had to insist on her showing me which it was."

Here he pauses.

"I don't know if she'd be all right with telling you our hiding place," he says after a few moments. "But I'm not much of a doctor, and I think it might be getting worse, so...I'll talk to her about it when she wakes up. Maybe if there's somewhere I could meet with you later?"

"I certainly could." Julian would be happy to show him, really. It would be a way to help. "Until then, shall we find something suitable for you to take back?"

Julian goes to look at the cupboards, for things that other scavengers may have missed. "Should we need, the plants in the displays actually do seem to be real, and I know enough of them to gather some that should be safe to consume." But he comes up with a few tins of vegetables that should be good, and a few other things that pass inspection.

"I'm staying on the fifth floor with some others, in the planetarium. None of us are inclined to hurt anyone unless we've no choice--we're mostly scientists and doctors." And Zoidberg.

"You'd be welcome to come by and ask after me there."

Kankri nods enthusiastically. "Oh, that would be much appreciated. Thank you." He accepts the food gratefully, tucking it into his tote bag.

"You don't have anything to fear from me," he assures Julian. "I'm a strict pacifist. Which makes my survival particularly unlikely, I know, but..." He shrugs. He doesn't want to let this place rob him of who he is, even if he's pretty scared of dying.

Julian respected his commitment to his morals--he couldn't say he was half as altruistic. He wouldn't initiate violence, but he would defend himself if needed--he would have been dead long before now if he didn't.

"There are oaths a doctor takes, that call for us to respect all sapient life. That does include our own--I certainly prefer not to fight, but defending yourself isn't quite the same thing. Done with the intent to escape, it may not conflict with your morals quite so much."

Just a suggestion. Not that it would work forever, which was a sickening thought.

"At any rate, it is something to consider."

"Oh," Kankri says quietly, blinking with a startled expression. In his worry over caring for people's lives, he hadn't quite considered that he should be taking his own into account too.

"Well," he says after a few uncomfortable moments, "I'll think about it, in any case. Thank you again, for all your help. Would you mind pointing out the edible plants in the exhibit down the hall to me? From what I've heard, we can't expect food supplies to stay this generous forever..."

The explanations given to people coming in mid-Arena were, as Julian would probably know, pretty inadequate. Jason knew something about Arena-death-match-gladiator-fight-thing, but it had all been kind of rushed and not particularly well thought out. Not to neg on their illustrious hosts, or captors or whatever, but their delivery could have used some work. Just saying.

So, after a few days of getting his bearings in the dark museum, Jason's still wandering the halls without a real sense of purpose. He could take that one Limey chick's word for it and just start murdering people, but by god he had some morals. Sometimes.

He'd had to leave the sixth floor though, the glassy eyes for the wax statures had gotten to him with their creepy, sightless stares. It was on the way down that he spotted Bashir skulking (or maybe he was the one skulking) around in the shadows. He hugged the wall, using all of his All-Caste-gained knowledge to disappear as much as possible into the darkness. Okay, so maybe he didn't ascribe to the death-race-game-thing but that was no reason be a moron.

"Who goes there?"

He was not skulking, thank you very much, he was trying to avoid notice. Two wholly different things. But obviously not working, either way.

Julian jumps at the address. He wasn't expecting it, and even as careful as he's being, enhanced senses and all, it is possible to sneak up on him.

He whirls, but his first instinct isn't to go for a weapon. It's to put his hands up, indicate that he's no threat, despite the bow and arrows he's carrying.

"God, you gave me a fright." Whoever you are.

"My name is Julian Bashir. And you would be?"

(Johanna had to be thoroughly unimpressed with him.)

"Jason." He doesn't care much about revealing his identity. Jason's never played along with the superhero identity shtick too well, and if it really is a gladiator-death-Arena-thing, they'll all be dead soon anyway, right? He waves back at Julian through the darkness. It's light and cheeky sort of gesture.

"Sup."

Julian looks just...confused. Apparently after a few hundred years, certain phrases just slip out of common vernacular. Even something as common as 'what's up.'

"Erm. Excuse me?"

Perhaps he should just...

"I'm a doctor. I'm looking for people in need of help."

"That's pretty nice of you." Which meant that it could be a trap. It's probably a trap, actually. He keeps to the shadows, just in case. Ducra had some saying about the All-Caste and the darkness, but he's blanking out on it at the moment, and it probably doesn't matter much anyway. The point is that he should be hugging the wall and keeping his eyes locked on the shorter man with the minimal light they've got.

"You know we're all supposed to be killing each other, right, doc?" Again, there's a barely visible wave. He's talking with his hands and he knows that could be misconstrued. Wary though he is, Jason can't actually bring himself to care that much.

"There's likely a note or two in my service record about issues following authority."

Julian's eyesight is sensitive enough that he could see more than the average person--he's not feeling threatened. Yet.

"I presume you've heard of the Hippocratic Oath? A few changes to the wording have been made over the years, but the meaning of it hasn't been altered at all."

Aunamee's pajamas were black. The color didn't belong to him -- it belonged to his predecessor, that sniveling, short-sighted fuck -- and his skin felt swollen underneath the fabric. He wanted to tear the clothing from his body and then he wanted to tear off the flesh that dared to touch it, but he knew better. He was calm. In his first arena, he had starved himself because he didn't want to need food, dehydrated himself because he didn't want to need water, grew dazed and delusional because he refused to sleep.

He needed to accept that he was human.

He needed to accept the black pajamas.

And he did. They were perfect for hiding in the shadows, for curling up in corners and remaining there until the day ended and the names of dead Tributes filled the air. He skittered from stairwell to stairwell like a spider, so quiet, so perfectly quiet. He ate. He drank. He slept.

He heard Julian's footsteps not far above him. They echoed like an alarm.

Julian was being cautious. Really, he was. He was being quiet, he was watching, but he simply wasn't used to this. The last time he was a prisoner, he hadn't needed to worry about his fellow inmates.

To his ears, his footfalls were quiet. He was wearing shoes, but they were soft-soled things that shuffled more than thumped. But stairwells were doomed to echo, and even as quiet as he was he couldn't make no sound at all, the only thing for it was to move between the floors as quickly as possible.

He was trying to go back down to the fifth. It was late, the intercom would be going off soon. He'd have to hear the names of others who'd already fallen. It wasn't too late for him to be amongst them.

Halfway between the sixth and fifth floor. Almost there.

Aunamee only needed to take a few steps backwards (one, two, three, four) before he was in the right position. Like so many stairways, this stairway had blind spots -- specifically sharp corners as one floor curved into another. By taking only a few steps backwards, Aunamee could duck around one of these curves, hiding just out of sight.

Hiding just out of sight, that is, until Julian rounded the corner.

He did not look at the man's face. He did not need to. When Julian emerged from around the corner, Aunamee simply saw a figure, a man, and he lunged. He already had the garrote unwrapped and ready, taut between his two hands.

It was only Julian's more-than-human reflexes that saved him from what would likely be a swift end--he brings his hand up to ensure that his throat is at least somewhat protected, other hand going to the knife in his pocket as he tried to step backwards, out of the range of attack. The close air of the stairwell wasn't good for the bow slung across his back, and while he detested the idea of bringing the knife to bear...

Well, he wasn't about to lay down and die either.

"Stop!" As if that would work.

His back thumps against the concrete wall behind him, and he realizes that he's trapped.

The man responded quickly. Too quickly. Aunamee released one of his hands from the garrote (now it was a metal string, useless, limp) and threw his elbow into the man’s chest.

That was when he saw his face.

Oh, that face.

His heart leaped like a fish craving water. His smile was automatic, bright, as he attempted to knee Julian in the ground.

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