Floor tile can be very interesting, especially when it's a tile floor carefully, nay, perfectly set with local stones by local artisans, and then sealed and bonded with a transparent, diamond hard finish. The subtle blues and grays, combined with flash of silver and the rare but welcome reds and oranges created a free form flowing image of waterfall and fish, or stream and birds, depending on the focus of the eye, and the angle of the light.

When you have a school or college and someone gives you money to name a hall after their particular heroic family member, you can do that kind of stuff, like make a medical facility into a work of art.

Here, the floor did not merely meet the walls, it curved up and became the wall seamlessly. No errant dirt allowed, no build-up of dust, no collection point for contagion, no dimming of the beautiful floor of Sturtevan Hall's dispensary.

So for a few moments Theo sat in the chair, sorb-pad held to the side of her face, tension singing from her shoulders, studying the pattern of the tile, doing her best not to think too much about how she'd managed to get into a fight. She never got into fights. Well, not all that often... and that made the tile much more interesting until the attendant had come back with the med-techs.

They'd shaved her left sideburns and a patch little higher to get at the cut, the slender grad student med-tech soothing her with his quiet voice and gentle fingers in her hair as the other wielded a shave wand with dexterity.

"We have permission then, to heal these problems?"

When he said that he pulled back so she could see his startling grey eyes and serious gold-toned face, and he drew his hand down the side of her face in front of her ear.

She started to nod...then found her fingers moving assent.

He sighed, the corners of his mouth quirking,

"Were you speechless, I would accept, but you are not speechless and we must both hear you say so; it is in the nature of being witness to each other, you understand." Again he touched the area. "So, I may heal the problem?"

"Yes," she managed, "you may heal this problem."

"That is well said, Theo Waitley. No concussion for you, and none I hear for the gentleman in the next room. You may relax, please."

She tired, thinking of her dance, but ...

"It is adrenaline," the tech murmured lightly. "You are well served. Here let me look again."

He bent close; she could hear his breathing. He said several syllables she didn't understand, got a quick reply from the other med-tech, and she could hear the rustle of his lab coat as he reached – and a small object traded hands.

"Please, then, sit back, and be comfortable. Two steps here, if you will pull your patience together."

She smiled and managed a weak laugh, nodded. He bent forward again, his voice so low it almost put her to sleep.

"This is fine, this is fine, ah, in a ten-day your boy friend will kiss it and all will be well. A clean cut after all, and the blood cleansed it as it should. This, this stings, in a moment, but it will be well."

Theo shivered then, the sudden thought of having Win Ton being close enough to touch her face reminding her somehow that now she have a lot of explaining to do, maybe to Win Ton, maybe to Cho -- to Kamele! She heard the other med-tech giggle something about Theo "needing a boyfriend with quick moves" and then there was the zzzizzizit of a cool spray, which did sting; when her concentration came back the med-tech with the spray said said, "A moment, Theo Waitley, after all, let me check the scalp here; your muscles are quite tense."

His fingers touched her scalp above and then behind her ear, traced a curve down toward her shoulder.

"Dancer", he said almost to himself, and then to Theo, "you will wish to dance gently tomorrow and the next day – call it a prescription, you must dance gently -- you should dance every day. This will be good practice, for as a courier pilot you may need to stand as ready as you did today. A moment more, if you please, Theo Waitely, you will relax, we will together let these muscles relax even more..."

He did something with his hands, touching one close to the affected area and one to the other side of her head, spreading warmth --

"One bit more," he said gently, "and your skin will find itself and we shall soothe it together and cover with just a slight tape... and another thing, she who flies gliders, these muscles we need to relax, we need them to relax so the parts of you go together properly. You need not be on the verge of fight, which is wearing and tenses muscles. So, accepting the capability to act, that is good. What is needed, now, is for you to let these muscles relax, to let the skin be natural. This is how we refuse scars the opportunity to form. So let you dance a moment in your head, with your eyes closed, the move that most powers you, then the move that most relaxes you."

With eyes closed she saw Win Ton, and thought of the ship's dance-challenge and thought of the move that she had been going to do at the end that remained yet ready...and thought it done.

"Yes, that is fine, that is fine. Ah, excellent, let those emotions work for you. And now the coolmister..."

And came another zzzizzizit of spray, and a feel like fog on her face, and the touch of fingers and a flower smell that reminded her of bluebells and Coyster and home.

When she opened her eyes the gray eyes of the med-tech were surprisingly close, as if he were watching her whole face and person.

He gave a half bow, and reached about to pull a touch pad to her.

"If I may have your thumbprint, Theo Waitely, there will be two pills for pain, which you will not need tonight, but which I am required to issue. The skin cover will come off in the shower in three days; it is best if you not touch it before."

"Thank you," she managed, and stood, feeling amazingly comfortable.

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