#tbd|location

For a man so large, his voice is small. His fingers coiled around her wrist overlap in their comparative excess; she is bird-boned and his hands are as big as the rest of him. It was only by Gaia’s grace she was able to keep him upright and moving to get him indoors. He towered over her even while sitting, and when he turns his head away, she sighs.  The scalp laceration might need stitches. Sure, she has her suturing kit, she always keeps a modest assortment of supplies wherever she might go, but none of that will do any good if he chooses to fight her on it. But before she could do anything to actually treat him, she first needs to see how bad the wound is. And to do that, she needs to clean it. She will also need to conduct a neurological exam, cognitive testing, and short of being able to do imaging tests, she’s got to work with his blood and observation to rule out a concussion. First things first though. Her voice is soft, full of compassion. “You don’ need t’ be ‘fraid of me, yeah? I’m a nurse, an’ I won’ let any harm come t’ ya. If ya wan, we can take a minute, an’ I can get ya somet’ing warm t’ drink an’ mebbe ya tell me wha’ happen t’ ya.”

"Is it dat obvious? I brought mine to da mainland from O'ahu. So how 'bout...ya got any traditions dat seem unusual or mebbe no one would guess about you?"

Sailors collect superstitions in the same way old men with bread crumbs collect birds in the park. They offer fertile imagination that calls to every wayward dream and nightmare looking for somewhere to roost. The whole world should be so observant. In a sliver of time between middle and morning watches, the sleek dark shape crests the tide with its distinctive short, triangular dorsal fin. The gliding swim is silent and the closer to the water's inky surface it comes the better its stripes show even in the moonlight. A tiger shark doesn't belong so far inland. But neither should it twist and bend like that as it approaches the shore. For a brief instant the creature disappears into the turbid water again and when it reappears... ...long dark hair is plastered to rapidly cooling skin. Water drips off slender limbs and a small frame as the woman puts one foot on shore, then the next. At any distance the age would be difficult to guess but the general size and mathematics might dictate someone young or at least not large by any means. Someone very naked. Seemingly unaware of being observed, the woman picks her way demurely toward an outcropping of rock, where she bends and searches amongst the black shapes for something. A something she can't find and becomes increasingly panicked over. She's not had anything dedicated and so doesn't benefit from the ritual in changing forms. She could do with missing footwear but she's entirely sure that if she tries to walk home as she is now, she will be arrested. The tide couldn't have taken her small bundle. She's entirely certain the gulls didn't either, though she hasn't asked yet. The grasses don't seem particularly aware and there's no real breezes she can ask. In her despair and increasing anxiety, she can't help herself. Hands fisted at her side, she stamps her feet onto the sand, throws her head back and shouts. "Oh, come the heck on!"

Remi's questions are honest ones, and suiting considering his speciality. She turns them over one by one inside of her head carefully before answering them in the same order he'd asked. Her answers are a little stilted though. She seems to be trying a little too hard to enunciate certain words, something she does when she wants to be understood on the mainland, and that effort lacks some of her more lyrical grace and definitely the tempo. "I know this gonna sound...lame, I suppose...but I think that the mos' attractive quality a person can have is a genuine sense of kindness, a charity an' understanding for the world around them, making that person inclined to act for the betterment of the world.Back home we have words for it that seem... somewhat missing here. Now, I know that's maybe not what you were getting at so if I had to pick physical traits...I'm not completely oblivious to beautiful eyes and a good smile. I like the shape of people's hands, too." She doesn't mention she finds veins attractive. "And yes, I do think I am blessed with very pretty friends. But I'm...I don't..." It's been a very long time since she'd had romantic feelings towards a person, and even back then she'd not acted on her impulses. "I'm not seeing anyone, if that's what your asking. But I absolutely do my best to live by the idea to always leave someone or something better off then when you arrived, to be kind and empathetic towards others, and to try and remember, we are all interconnected, yes." ~*~ A little shake of her head, a sort of wide smile that maybe hopes to downplay herself, and one that she doesn't think about showing him the extent of her sharp little teeth or the fact that some of them don't sit perfectly flush in her mouth. "Oh, fight, totally. I mean you mus' remember your rotations in medical school? Neither of us would have gotten where we are if we didn't advocate first for ourselves, an' secondly for our patients." It comes naturally to her, considering her ancestors, the still royal blood in her veins. All of which runs cold when she thinks of the Admiral and the fact that she's likelier to fawn in the face of his never expected but always present wrath. "But I'd prefer to defuse a situation before it gets that far. Got a good lawyer but don' need a criminal record, yeah?" ~*~ Beth laughs then and this time she raises a delicate hand to cover her mouth, as if she's too aware or if she's ashamed of the sound that comes from her. It's a warm and living thing, reminiscent of wind chimes and spring rain. Limning those high cheekbones of hers is a distinct pink that only comes from blushing. A moment later, she swallows softly. But she doesn't quite look him in the eye. "I mean to say I was would come off as arrogant, don't you think?" She might be trying to head the question off at the pass but more than the most cursory glance would suggest it isn't a question of modesty, but that she honestly holds the opinion. "But I think everyone would say they were." A lilt of one narrow shoulder, a half-born shrug. "Sometimes, in life, it's expected to kiss cheeks for diplomacy sake, and you know the city elite, the women who air kiss each other as a passive-aggressive sort of display. I've kissed my brother and hanai-sister more times than I can count, other friends. Those quick, playful pecks or on the cheek, the hand, the hair." A quiet, brief pause and then... "Firs' kiss...happened in Japan when the Admiral was stationed at Yokosuka. The Ambassador's son tried to kiss me. Got stopped when my brother punched him in the face. He was thirteen, my brother was eighteen, and almost caused an international incident. Instead, Andy and I were sent back to O'ahu. So it wasn't really a kiss, but it was the first. A few others have tried over the years but mostly because they thought it was expected I suppose. But with most of them being relative strangers, they understood my polite decline. I...I don't ah....I don't get out much."

She holds up one bird-boned hand and wiggles it to and fro; the universal sign of 'maybe' or 'partially'. "Depends on da situation, really." Beth has an iron grasp on her inner child, and has a lifetime of experience being a little sister. "But way you're aksin' dat, leads me to believe you're somewhat less dan enchanted wi' my particular type of...we'll call it....whimsy. So I'mma need you to cite chapter an' verse of what exactly it is I did, or you t'ink I did."