Bobby-Baird-Thor Combo Reply
It was several hours later when Bobby was looking over the preliminary results of the analysis Hank performed. His mouth was hanging open. Holy fuck... extensive gene rewrite... massive amounts of cybernetics (if this weren't such a fucked up situation I'd think that were kinda cool but jesus)... and his body was being repeatedly dosed on huge amounts of hormone regulators and possible mind control drugs...
Damon, who was standing there with the usual scowl on his wheathered face, grumbled as he read over the analysis. "You know, when I first came here I thought that I was tripping out on mind-control drugs the COG probably put in the water. Looks like Ragnar here was actually being doped up for about a century or so. Fuck..." He paced around as he gesticulated to each point on the page. "So he has Logan's healing and senses and some of the mental issues too. Well that's gonna make things a fuckload more civil," he said harshly as he rolled his eyes.
Bobby just looked at Damon with a glare. "Logan's a nice guy, Baird. Just look below the surface and give him a chance, alright?"
Damon sighed and rolled his eyes a bit, but Bobby wasn't being unfair. He had only met Logan once and they were both in a bad mood at the time. And yeah, I admit it, I can be an asshole to people who haven't earned that. "Alright dude, you got a point" he begrudgingly conceded.
On the other side of the bed, Thor was sitting in a chair and keeping watch on Ragnar; he even held the Space Wolf's hand. His facial expression was that of a warrior watching a wounded comrade. "At least Henry hath done his work... the prognosis is good," the Asgardian said softly.
"Thankfully," Bobby added with a nod. His exhales were still frosted over, but not as much as eariler. C'mon big guy, you'll pull through... "He was being filled with fucked up drug cocktails every goddamn day. Now he's going through enough rehab to detox Amy Winehouse twice over..."
Damon chuckled at that; he may not have been on Earth long, but he got the reference.
If Bobby believed in any gods, he would have prayed then. Please... you're my friend. C'mon, don't die on me... He ignored the ache in his stomach from all the nachos and icecream and donuts from earlier as he waited for the Space Wolf to stir.