Gert had long ago mastered the art of sleeping for no more or less than fifteen minutes at a time. It wasn't always something that she employed, mostly because she did enjoy sleeping an entire night with Chase when he wasn't in the doghouse, but it was something she could do. Of course switching back to it under the current circumstances hadn't been the easiest thing in the world, and she was a little more out of it than normal. Mostly because she kept jerking herself awake after less than fifteen minutes, thus destroying the whole concept of the thing.
Like Molly, she had pretty much cemented herself in place in the room and been surprisingly patient about not forcing Molly to let her help. Mostly because this was out of the scope of what she could treat. Plus it was Chase. Chase only got the best. Even if he was a fucking moron. She was sitting on one of the cots, eyes on the ground, thinking through various mathematical formulas not only because she could but because she needed the distraction so she didn't linger on all the ways Chase was injured.
Old Lace was curled on the bed next to her, head in her lap, as close to her mistress as was possible. Every so often there was a high pitched metallic noise that anyone else would have written off as grinding gears but was actually a concerned whine. Gert's left hand was resting on the machine's head.
She didn't notice anything out of the ordinary until Chase spoke. Molly, who was not weighed down by a mechanoid dinosaur, was the first one up and over to him. Gert followed a few moments later, Old Lace inching forward slowly and cautiously behind her. "You've lot a few more brain cells that you can't spare, but Molly seems fairly confident that you'll survive."
"That was incredibly dumb, by the way, Stein. Plus you don't even have anything to try and talk me into this time so what's the point of a near death experience." He would have expected nothing less than a tongue lashing.