Inglet glides in to the reception area, and, after a moment or two of thoughtful consideration, slowly makes his way over to the font desk. Once there, he inquires as to the room number of the Pilot that Lavie and Inglet had helped to rescue from the burning wreckage of that CEC -series freighter. Inglet also asks at the front desk for the directions to the Billing Desk, and the name of the Attending Physician who admitted the Pilot to IC the day before yesterday. Armed with that info, he slowly turns and makes his ways toward the turbolifts.

The man is (or rather near human) is mostly covered in bandages. Bacta is circulating through the various sutures going along it to help relax and heal slowly. The man himself wasn't badl hurt in the crash, but hit his head very badly and that is the type of thing that is something that bacta cannot help much with. Ergo it's being used mostly for easing the broken bones of his body and internal injuries. As people approach he comes to, his glazed eyes looking a pupiless green.
	Ugh.. What hit my head? Feels like a tijuana BBQ went 'shake your body right'..

After lots and lots of talking to the emergency services people and moving her X-Wing to the main starport, Lavie enters the hospital room cautiously. The sight of Inglet provides some small measure of relief and nervousness, none of which is helped by the sight of the patient. "Dunno, but I'm betting it was the instrument panel. You and your pilot droid bellied in pretty close to the starport. You're pretty lucky, all told," she says softly.

Somewhat incoherent, the man slowly comes conscious then and looks at Lavie, "Have I died and gone to heaven? No, wait, they have standards. I'm not dead am I? Or just really, really desperate? That second thing is probably closer to it. No, wait, ont closer, is. So what can I do you with? Or I mean I don't really need a reason, I'm more than happy to do you. OW!" He ahems, "Shouldn't have moved that, sorry." He errs, and looks to Inglet <"Not that you're not nice to look at I mean, but beggars cn't be choosers and she's definitely hotter." Yup, DEFINITE concussion. Or brain damage. Or maybe that explained why the nurses here all had REALLY big forearms..

Inglet smiles gently and enters more fully into the conversation in order to take some of the current awkwardness out of it and to start to move the focus away from . . . the Pilot's current preoccupation.  Inglet places a card and a vase filled with "get well soon" lilies on the nightstand next to the hospital bed.  "Welcome back!  Welcome back, indeed.  .  .  as to what you hit, you'll have to tell -us- . . . once you remember . . . but, no rush, take your time, get healed up all right and proper first!  By the time we got to you, you'd already crashed, so, whatever collision might have led to the crash was long past.  How are you feeling?  Can we get you any food from the outside world?  Hospital food is -the- worst . . . "

"Um, nothing, actually... no offense, but I think you're a little loopy from the crash, y'know?" Lavie says, taking half a step back and blushing. She gives Inglet a grateful look as he steps in. "And he's totally right about hospital food. Assuming the staff will let us in with anything like that. Diet protocols, y'know?"

The man rubs (or would rub, if his hands weren't restrained to his sides so that the arms did't get re-broken. "I'm guessing the ground. Maybe gravity well. Probably the second leading to the first. I suppose at least it's not that Gammorean girl with the really big hooters. That'd probably be one type of gravity well you really hope you can hit escape velocity from. And nah, I think I'm good for the moment. Until I see the bill they're gonna give me for this, then I'll probably be trying to eat myself." the further reason he had no co-pilot on a freighter that needed one was probably a lot, lot clearer now. "Wait, the ground was in league with gravity. Stupid hell-bitch. Coming out of nowhere to hit me." Yeah, definitely clear now. The man then blinks. "Wait, this is a hospital? I thought it was the place the debt collectors sobered you up before they strung you out."

"Ummmmm... no. Not that place, whatever it is. Hospital. Definitely hospital. For what it's worth, you made out better than your pilot droid," Lavie replies, edging a step closer to the door. "Do you remember anything before you lost consciousness?"

THe Man sighs, "Alas, poor Hard0N. I knew himw ell. Well, not in that sort of way! But he was my ever constant companion, my faithful friend, even when I wasn't his. Becuase i left him plugged in and immobilized all the time! SUCKER." That poor, poor droid. Death was a sweet, sweet release. As Lavie asks, he considers. "Well, I remember screaming, being on fire, trying to make things not be on fire, then realizing that it wasn't the things on fire, it was me." He.. Hadn't had any major flame injuries from reentry. "You know how it is. Man hates ground. Ground loves man. Man tries to stay away from ground. Ground smashes him in cruel, crushing embrace."

Inglet leans in to attempt to further take the pressure and framing off of Lavie, especially after that Gammorean comment and the name the pilot had evidently given to his droid: "You may well feel, at the moment, that you're in a "Rock, meet bottom" sort of deal.  And my friend, the two institutions of hospitalization ande debt collection -do- bear many, many similarities, at least in the "taking away all your money and leaving you sad as a result" department  . . .  however, you'll be both surprised and glad to know that your bill is completely blank."

The man looks over at Inglet, panicked, "What are you talking about?! If Bill is blank, that means Ted isn't long after! Do you know the pain and agonizing solace of hearing the crowd chant of 'Rufus' and knowing that certain unmentionables are right around the corner? And eh. Nah, this is a far way from rock bottom. Rock bottom is when you have one of those really big planetary drills you use for core boring and you push the button down all the way and chant 'FIRST ONE TO EDRICO BABY'!"

Inglet nods, slowly, parsing all of that, and counting this as at least a modicum of forward progress away from the ogling and rampant vulgarities of a few moments prior. "Well, that's one way of looking at it, for sure. So, where were you worried that you'd wound up? Debt collectors . . . what? where? who?" Inglet fishes around for a smidgeon of coherence in the Pilot's scrambled psyche.

"Ummm... yeah," Lavie says flatly to the patient. "Whatever you said there. I take it you're worried about debts. Can't blame you, but I think my friend here means that he's taken care of your medical bills, not... whatever you meant there."

The somewhat crazed man wheezes, "I can tell you, but that means that htey'll be after you. And you'll be stuck with the rest of us. And poor her.." Lavie's slow escape route towards the door is noticed. "Will be left but for the tender mercies of the ternally plugged in Hard0N. Alone, jacked on, thrumming." he looked almost delirious for a few moments. "To the sweet, sweet embrace of the.." One of hte nurses comes in. "He does that." Whacks him with a tray. That tra had a lot of dents and that nurse had VERY scar looking forearms.
	WHONK.


Inglet blinks a few times as the nurse clubs the erstwhile manic pilot back into a more sedate and likely more merciful state of oblivion. Inglet turns, slowly (Inglet does just about -everything- slowly) to look at Lavie and shapes a wide-eyed wordless "W-o-w!" of stunned surprise at the pilot's speech, the nurses' reactions, and, well, the whole hospital scene in general, really.

Lavie winces at the clangs of the tray against the man's forehead, then stares wide-eyed at the nurse. "Um... thanks?" she ventures softly. "Is that normal procedure here?"

The nurse shrugs, "Either we shut him up or we break what part of his brain still works so it doesn't. Either way,end result si peace and quiet."
	The rambling man goes on, "Then I would totally hootchie her mamma. And her. At the same time. like a igant set of cupcakes. Oooh momma, let me.." The nurse CRACKS the pan down again on the side of his head. "It also makes for good exercise."

Inglet watches with scarcely contained disbelief as the Pilot is bludgeoned into the nether realms of unconsciousness. All is quiet for a minute, in the room. "Well then!" surmises Inglet: "Thank you very much for . . . taking care of him, and, I do hope he speedily recovers to a more congenial state!" The motive and purpose of the visit made obsolete, Inglet bows to Lavie, to the nurse, and makes his way back to the front desk to check out. Once clear of the hospital, Inglet slathers on the disinfectant with prudent thoroughness as they exit the hospital grounds. Inglet looks very much as if he'd like to somehow bleach out his eyes and ears as well. W-o-w. That . . . was . . . certainly . . . an experience. "Hm! Well, I do have a favor to ask you, Lavie, . . . in that: if you should happen to find me reduced to a state even borderline-close to the one we've just witnessed, I'd be ever so grateful if you'd please do just put a bullet in my skull. Much obliged, in advance . . . "

Lavie grimaces at what comes out of the man's mouth, then winces at another clang from the tray. "Thanks. I suppose it would be good exercise..." she murmurs, edging a step toward the door, then follows Inglet, running for her life. "I would, but I don't own anything that shoots bullets..!"

The man's voice can be heard carrying through the halls, "First it's the bare naked ladies, but you find out they're not naked as they're Ewoks, and they have a giant crockpot, and they're humming Deliverance" WHONK. It echos through the halls as the pair leave.
	As the pair leave the Ord Mantell hospital, a sign above reads 'WB STEWDEUW LAWT PSYCHIATRIC AND CARE RESIDENCE. CHEAP RATES. INQUIRE WITHIN.' A smaller sign beneath reads 'Two for one special. Parts reattached go in right cases or your money back!'

Inglet breathes for a minute or two.  Just breathes.  "OK" he thinks.  "Well, that's accomplished.  Should we try to see if the ship is a total loss?"  Inglet wonders.  Turning slowly to Lavie, he asks: "Well, have we had quite enough for one evening, or, should we visit the crash site to see if the ship is in an equally hopeless condition as her pilot and co-pilot?"

As the pair flee, that giant 'WB' sign on top of the care center flashes. A sign of terror. Of rhymes. Of coming DOOM.

"No offense, but I'm not half enough technically to evaluate a wreck. I can maybe protect you while /you/ evaluate, if you like," Lavie offers.

Inglet nods, slowly, still recovering a bit from their adventures in the Looney (Tunes) Bin. "Ooookay. Yes. Much appreciated. And I shall certainly purchase for you a suitable slugthrower, if you'll agree, as duly aforementioned, to -never- allow me to reach such a state personally." Inglet grins.

Xix'tel accepts the incomming holo-call. "One here. how can one help?" as he looks to the person on the other end. "Mr... Inglet.. how can one be of assistance?"

"Probably a good idea. I can wait," Lavie says, nodding her agreement and turning to leave for the spaceport. "I'll retrieve my ship and meet you there."
Then she pauses, blinking. "Wait a sec... that sounds like Xix. You know Xix?" she asks, surprised.

Inglet: "Oh yes, of course! Xix is the best mechanic alive! I'm honored to know him." Inglet pops up the holo-display and answers the call: "Challenge Round, if you please, my friend. We've got a crater here, with bits of steaming ship in it. Since you are, hands down, THE BEST, I thought I'd give you a ring before we declared it hopeless. A certain . . . unstable . . . fellow who's currently in the hospital appears to have driven his CEC derivative straight into The Ground. Terminal velocity, and all that. I've shut down the reactor safely, but, that's the only good news _I_ can see in all this mess . . . your opinion final, of course! Inglet out."


Xix'tel "One be there as fast as one can fly.. Just need planet and corrdiants" as he closes down the communication and immediately grabs his personal flight gear, before headeing to the ship bay where he boards his pride and joy following all of Lavies instructions on pre-flight and getting ships ready he soon blasts his way past the magcon field and sets course to the spot Inglet designated. << Time pass's>> as Soon both lavie and Inglet see the Alor'Geroya <<A>> (BTL-S7 Y-Wing II Fighter/Bomber) comming thru the air headed their direction.

"Likewise. Let me pick up my ship and I'll meet you there. I'd offer you a lift, but it's only got one seat," Lavie replies to Inglet, leaving for the starport.
Perhaps an hour later, she and Inglet watch Xix's modified Y-Wing make its final approach to a landing near Lavie's parked X-Wing and the wreck of the CEC freighter.

Inglet tilts his heavy, slab-like face skyward to watch the approach of the Y-wing and to wave it onto an optimal landing trajectory.  "Well!  That's fast work, and no mistake" muses Inglet: "Welcome!  Welcome, Xix!" Inglet greets, once Xix has made planetfall.  "So, . . . this . . . hole in the planet . . . is what we're looking at, ship-wise.  Seems a total and complete write-off to me, but, you know those insurance appraisers, they always want -TWO- shipwrights to sign off on everything.  The Pilot's a hard-luck case, as well, better served by having the credits than by having the ship, I would think, now that his droid / co-pilot is essentially . . . equally inoperative.  What do you make of it, Xix?" Inglet wonders, looking up to the Verpine for the latter's unparalleled expertise.


Xix'tel brings the Heavily modified Y-wing down, swining it around so that its nose is facing Lavies precious X-wing. Xix'tel waves as he's greeted, slipping unde the craft to open the Auxilary storage compartment to extract a large tool kit and mini-hover sled to haul it on. Xix'tel then approaches the crater "Greetings, One is here to fix.. " as he pauses a moment to look into the crater and the remains of the ship. "hmm .... " as he looks to Inglet, then Lavie.. who'll notice his antenna twitching a sign she's known well indicating excitement " A challenge??" as he gets closer. Then looks to Inglet. "this pilot he got credits yes to cover expense.. ?" as it seems the verpine is very willing to repair the craft even if others would chop it up as a loss.

Lavie smiles, waving to Xix as he approaches, though her smile fades at the mention of credits. "Um, actually? I think he's in debt right at the moment, so probably not," she says, just a little worriedly.

Inglet watches Xix with rapt attention, looking for what the Verpine is looking for, watching what the Verpine is watching for.  To Inglet's eyes, the ship is a loss. Parts of the hull are open to atmosphere, the repulsorlifts are burnt out, and the thrusters and hyperdrive are questionable. Individual components might be repairable but fixing the ship would require more cost than the ship was worth in the first place.  But Xix is a Verpine, among mere mortals.  IF -anyone- can fix this . . .

Xix'tel looks over to lavie and as her smile fades he shakes his head, leaving his tools behind as he walks the edge and comes up to her. "This pilot friend yes? " he asks of her and then not waiting for a reply, he cups lavies cheek with tenderness and nods. "One fix, then friend can find way to pay back when able. " as he looks to her in hopes this brings back a smile upon her face. "this be okay with lavie?"

"It's not up to me, Xix. If you really want to do this, I'm fine with it," Lavie replies softly, with a faint smile. "Just be warned that he may not be able to repay you for quite some time. Maybe never. I'll be honest... I'm not a tech, but this looks pretty bad. I'd guess it'll never fly again."

That would be Inglet's guess as well.  But, never doubt a Verpine when the (micro)chips are down and the whole (smoking)pile is on the line  . . . .  Inglet looks over to Xix, noting the determined look creeping up into the Mantis' multi-faceted eyes.

If Xix'tel was feeling challenged before, after hearing Lavies statement Well his antennae shoot up in a new way, as nobody's ever seen an angry verpine before and saying something will never fly again well for xix those are fighting words. "Pilot may no fly anymore , but ship she fly.. One make better than ever. " as he turns back to head towards his tool kit. Then looks to Inglet. "you have place where one can work on ship.. ?"

Inglet grins and nods: "A-yup, I surely do have a place. I do indeed: VSS shipyard, Ord Mantell. Less than 20 clicks from here, as the crow flies. Whatever crows are. Still . . . . crows -are- said to fly, which is one better than anyone has as yet said for this ship. Present company excluded, of course. So! She's all yours, Xix, and, I'll pull up the ground cart and tool kit for you. Any idea how best to transport this . . . . (Inglet waves at the wreckage) . . . . without it winding up in more pieces than it started out as?"

Inglet watches curiously as Lavie receives romantic overtures and unmistakable courtship interest once again, for the second time in as many hours and by the second species in a row.  Hm.  Well, that's two-for-two, any way you care to count it . . .  Not personally acquainted with whatever qualifies as "irresistibly attractive" for mammals,  . . . . or, for that matter, for insects . . . Inglet files away for later reference the fact that Lavie is evidently very attractive to both of those species at once.  Odd, but, there you have it.  Facts don't lie!  (Inglet is rather quite fond of facts, and, for that very reason.)

Xix'tel slides down into the crater where the ship landed and begins to examine it much more closely than what Inglet was able too as his eyes are able to see in finer detaiil and so after makes a suggestion on how best to transport the ship without causing too much more in structural damage.

Lavie settles in to watch the two techs getting down to business. After all, fixing things is far from her forte, and she prefers to leave such things to the professionals.

Inglet maneuvers the repulsor rig into position, listening to Xix's commentary over the Comms. Just as well he -can't- see at the microscopic level of detail that Xix is processing . . . looking at the "Big Picture" of this wreck is . . . bad enough. "Ready!" Inglet calls out, once he's got the space tow-truck in gear and charged up

Xix'tel gets ship hooked up and signals for inglet to haul it away
Then while the ships being moved he goes to examine Lavies ship as he modified it for her and to him it's special and while examining the craft he asks her "She still fly good ? no problems?"

"It's fine, thanks. No problems to speak of," Lavie replies, giving Xix a gentle hug, taking care with the Verpine's curious anatomy. Wouldn't want to crush anything.

|nglet guns the engines, straining to haul the CEC out of the crater according to Xix' specifications and instructions . . .  looking back over his proto-winged green shoulder, he casts a worried glance at the number and size of the bits that have fallen off of the CEC ship and which remain embedded into the surface of Ord Mantell.  Yup.  This is going to be "a Challenge job" for sure . . .   for sure.

"One is always looking out for lavie, one enjoys doing so.. " as he watches the ship be hauled off and shakes his head.  "One going to have interesting time fixing ship. " he adds with a chuckle.

Inglet loads the biggest extant segment of the CEC freighter (slowly) onto the salvage rig. Most of it is heavily carbon - scored, and some of it is still embedded in the turf of Ord Mantell. So once the largest bit is taken care of, he heads back and starts to dig out the other bits. He's very careful -- much as would be an archaeologist under similar circumstances. He's confident he'll get . . . most of it . . . but, fully acknowledges that this is going to take a while -- no two ways about that. While he works, Inglet whistles choice selections of the Egmont Overture, just to pass the time. He's a competent space fork-lift driver, and makes good progress. Nothing flashy, but, he never stops for a rest and never rushes anything.

Lavie busies herself with keeping an eye on the ground around the crater, and beyond. She's here as security, and she makes herself useful in just that manner. "Let's hope the local gangs or scrap merchants don't bother us," she says into her comm headset, glancing back at the ship now and then to ensure that her friends are safe.

Xix'tel glances back to lavie and gives a thumbs up, then on the comm's "Does one need to have truck come to pick up pieces that fall off?"

Inglet shrugs one of his winged shoulders and offers an open-palmed gesture of invitation: "Why certainly. . .  Please do!  Shout or beep if you see some -- There's more than enough . . .  pieces . . .  for everyone to grab a share!"  Inglet grins and guns the loader's engines to life, backing around in a slow circle as he scouts both the impact crater and also the path along which he'd just towed the main cupola for further bits of debris which may have fallen off in - transit. . .

Xix'tel places a call for a hover truck with a small magnetic crane, to come by and pick up the pieces that've either fallen off or been left behind. just to make sure they've got everything the'll need to rebuild.

Xix'tel places a call for a hover truck with a small magnetic crane, to come by and pick up the pieces that've either fallen off or been left behind. just to make sure they've got everything the'll need to rebuild.

"So far so good... no security issues between us and town that I can see," Lavie advises, studying the landscape as she climbs into her X-Wing. "I'll grab some sky and see what I can see from there. And I doubt anyone would say no to an escort."

Inglet *nods* and watches and helps with the cleanup, marking each piece they find with it's photo and location on a holo-map he's been building of the crash site. Starship - Archaeology in - progress! Inglet nods to Lavie -- that's an excellent idea. An X - Wing escort is never a bad idea, and always looks pretty darn cool to boot.