Owner	Pose
Jane Foster	R&D happens to be a busy place and not the ideal spot to extract a serum from someone, especially an uncontaminated version. A lab being shot up by HYDRA and SHIELD rarely provides uncontaminated quantities of anything except dislike or contempt. Jane sits on a bed in Medical, long-sleeved shirt pushed up over her right arm. Certain vitals have already been taken: height, weight, unvarying since the last check. Someone isn't very happy about having her wave off the blood pressure cuff, though "Senior Agent" overrides a standard peon in the medical wing. She hates using rank, and that mood settles on her with a frown as she crosses her arms. Staring up at the ceiling gives very little comfort since the only poster up there happens to note the benefits of more activity in the gym, things to ask a doctor about, and a reminder for crown and coun... Er, flag and country. Time ticks by. Her case is hardly priority and no doubt someone might be monitoring her from one room or another. Anywhere in the Triskelion tends to be monitored, especially after HYDRA. Doubtful any algorithm prevents her from being subject to the Director's insistence. Eventually she flops back on the bed, fingers tapping her elbow. When the cadence drops off, it's fair to say she's all but passed out from inactivity. Jane Foster /is/ an astrophysicist. Maybe she's like a fabled vampire, put to sleep by the sun.
Jemma Simmons	R&D is indeed a busy place. However, there is one within its ranks that also has the luxury of pulling rank, should she need to do so. And, when Jane's name pops up on the medical register (coupled with a minor gripe about waving the blood pressure check), Jemma also plays the rank card. Namely by excusing herself by claiming a medical case needs her attention. Which, is true, after all. Anything to do with Jane is usually Jemma's purview, regardless. And really, no one questions Jemma when she is in medical doctor mode, anyways. So, it is just as the cadence drops, the fingers ceasing their rhythmic accompaniment, when Jemma actually steps in to the examination room. The tail end of a conversation trailing behind her, as that familiar voice calls back to whoever..."...yes, I insist. No, I do not need assistance, thank you." The door closing behind, those brown eyes turn to regard the seemingly nocturnal stargazer. "Well, you certainly caused a minor stir." Already, certain protocol is being taken....namely Jemma interrupting the monitoring with that tablet of hers. Whatever happens in this examination room will stay in the room, if Jemma has any say over it.
Jane Foster	Sleep, perchance to dream. Jane gives a cracking yawn and then curls up on the uncomfortable bed made for purposes of keeping agents alive, not at the Four Seasons. She has suffered worse in the field, flipping around on a cot or squashed into a repurposed van. Not much changes in SHIELD's care. Could be worse, could be so much better. Still, the wait is long enough that she falls into that hazy in between state where thoughts move slowly and torpid semi-consciousness plunges her to a baseline state. She actually can and does sleep, and this goes into something like the crash of a weary mind tipped over fatigue's brink. Bandages wrap her left wrist neatly. A sealed ziploc bag contains the folded jeans, complete with soiled hemlines, gore and various detritus from a Haitian lab just in case. She knows the protocols, having found other pants to wear. No fear of bare legs in here. Thrilling for Jemma then; a bag marked "Simmons" in neat Sharpie, stuck with an evidence sticker already, and the other piece of evidence... that's more complicated. On her side, plunked out for most of the world. Already uploaded since they got a signal? The French language serum notes snapped by camera, her handwriting in rough detail etched on the paper copy now in SHIELD's custody. Nothing like a human performance enhancement drug that incidentally destroys the body's ability to regulate and produce proteins that it directly wants from, oh, living human flesh. One which Peggy Carter on down to Jessica Drew know damn well is jammed in the girl's arm. How well she completed the dead scientist's serum is another matter, since a slew of details produced by said dead scientific task force required guesswork to complete, and she's identified the clotting agents -- two fairly common surgical acids, as it happens -- as the missing component before playing alchemist in the ruined lab while injected. Yeah, that surely went well. If it didn't, nomnomnom? Either way, she's not responding mostly because she facedown on her injured arm, making a barely audible exhalation noise against that annoying tossable material covering the pillow.
Jemma Simmons	Oh...asleep. Should there actually be anyone observing (certainly not electronically...Jemma's seen to that), they would notice that Jemma's features soften. Yes, Jemma is only the scary doctor when she wants to be, such as when she needs to impress the need for caution. But, for Jane here? There was always a soft spot for Jemma's friend. Besides, it isn't like Jemma could stop Jane if the astrophysicist was really determined. The garment bag is noted...and left alone for now. Of course, it will be taken back and ran through various tests...but what really is interesting is the evidence bag, already tagged and marked for Jemma. So thoughtful of Jane, really. And...digital copy of the serum notes in French. No deterrent for Jemma. If anything, it gives her practice with her French. The notes are tucked away, slid into a folder for Jemma's perusement later. Along with those notes? A copy of the AAR for the mission, with a summary of what happened. A summary that Jemma quickly reads before continuing on, to refresh herself. "I am dreadfully sorry, Jane. I should have been there." It was a soft murmur, barely audible, but enough. What would have Jemma been able to do if she was there? With her particular set of skills and specialized equipment? Who is to say? But now? Jemma can certainly do something now. Starting with extracting a certain drug from her friend. Jemma of course knew why Jane forgone the blood pressure test. Designating herself as Jane's personal physician, Jemma is privy to certain facts that others are not aware of. Namely, that Jane's conscience form is not necessarily her purely physical one. Yes, Jemma is not necessarily sold on the existence of magic as being this unexplainable force, but even she has to admit there is something beyond her realm of understanding when it comes to Ms. Foster. At least, for now. But, it also means that Jemma knows how certain things would react with such an existence. Or...in this case, not react. "Now then...just how are we going to purge you of that nasty formula, hmm?"
Jane Foster	The astrophysicist can't stop Jemma if Dr. Simmons wishes to use her greater talents, quite frankly. The only one among the Furiae who can overthrow the others is Daisy and she isn't here, hacking away against North Korea or Russian troll farms. Whatever Quake does in a day! The textile and chemical analyses waiting to happen on Jane's jeans might be plenty interesting for forensics. More important matters lie ahead of them here, though, in the flesh and in the bone. The extensive reporting on the serum and its antidote, incomplete at the eighty percent stage but that last twenty percent guessed at by the physicist, contain abundant references, chemical analyses, profiles, even delicious tables and chemical formulae to chomp through. Lots for Jemma to play with, assembling models or finding better Legos to slot into the medical situation. She might have found a better drug. She might not have done guesswork and been stabbed in the arm by a deranged, half-dead drug dealer. Jane does have a heartbeat, much as anything can register, which likewise means circulation. Only that blood behaving and looking like blood isn't blood and X-rays, among other things, go completely bonkers where she's involved is purely a matter of medical interest. Naturally some people around here might not like being poked or prodded; Carol's a fine example of that. Then again, Jane's asleep and no more dangerous than awake. Especially not with a bandaged wing of sorts. It'll actually take raising her voice or Jemma nudging her to get her awake, the glazed blinks taking longer than usual to register. Yes, even though Jane nailed herself with the antidote, same as everyone else, the drug still runs around in lost circles inside. How charming, drooling? Yeah, she wipes her mouth in case. Some functions are reproduced way too faithfully. Thanks, Undrjarn.
Jemma Simmons	A light nudge, followed by a slightly louder exclamation in those prim and proper tones. "Jane, it's Jemma. I am here." No, it isn't a call to wake up, but perhaps Jane will, just because it is Jemma present. That is all that Jemma does, for now. Just a nudge. Jemma then shifts to review the copious amount of notes left for her to see just how the serum works...and the antidote. Not that she is worried for Jane's physical well-being. It is just that, well, knowing what Jemma knows, they have a little time. And it is better to be knowledgeable of what she is up against. "You know, this is very similar to Bobbi's little escapade. I might have been more cross if it was a self-injection, rather than a physical attack. And, you know, if it was anyone else but you." Idle comments aside, Jemma quickly reviews the information. "And...if I am looking at this properly, it...might be possible to improve upon this. Certainly, I can see various reasons why there is such a depletion of the protein chains....perhaps even the mental degradation. If there is a way to control that, then yes...this could be salvaged." Why is Jemma telling Jane this? Most likely Jemma is just telling herself, with a sleepy Jane just conveniently in the room.
Jane Foster	"Nnrg." Zombie noises abound, at least in a vocal call that probably would be a word if not impeded by said sleeve. Tired as she might be after a flight, the occasional violent needle stab, Jane rolls her head from side to side and flexes her shoulders. They shift under her shirt, and she hauls herself more or less upright. "The idea was gathering a sample, not taking one." That much comes out a bit cottony, but she makes another attempt at rolling off her hip and upright into a much nicer position. This much is reflex, even if her brain is running at one speed down from usual. "Tranexamic acid's too weak. Aminocaproic.... is that a goat origin? Ah, aminocaproic acid had better results. Bound faster, I had to guess. Table 12-C is the one to look at. Chain had a hole, and I thought, why not for stopping the anticoagulant factor caused by the breakdown from protein chains? Works in surgery as well as anything." Yes, the explanation comes first because it's Jemma, who will follow her chain of thought. "Something breaks the compounds down. Not sure what it took to glue them back together, but my best shot was in that family."
Jemma Simmons	There is a pause as Jemma takes a moment to make her own little adjustments to the medical scanners, so she can take a better peak at what is happening within. Or, in the most ideal of circumstances, not happening. "Yes, I do see where you was going with your notes. There isn't a limiter in place to slow the metabolic rate. The compound appears provide physical improvements by increasing the energy output of the metabolic process, but does so inefficiently. Essentially, it is like heating a house with all the doors and windows open." Not that Jane needed the layman's terms, but Jemma is used to providing it to those who are not genius scientists. A tap of the tablet before her...and a confirmation with the notes...then Jemma returns to her friend. "So, you received a dose against your will...and you managed to create a counter agent to neutralize the former. And, if I am looking at this correct, both are within your system in an inert state. Would that be a correct assumption?" Is the question rhetorical? Because Jemma seems to not wait for an answer at all, but instead is already on calculations on how to extract the two from her friend. Although...there is a pause as Jemma casts a glance towards Jane. "I am almost certain that whoever attacked you was awfully surprised when their little cocktail had no effect on you."
Jane Foster	Scanners trying to penetrate through a wall of densely packed molecules would often not be a problem, though Undrjarn so expertly weaves together the woman's soul that some resistance. Not a lot, but some. "The protein breakdown accelerates through a seventy-two hour window. The decline must indicate deterioration reaches a critical point after a day and a half, maybe two." Warm brown eyes blink and she breaks a light smile to Jemma. "Good to know I headed in the right direction. Mission was underground, we lacked a strong signal to relay the documents to you. Even if we had, asking you to distill an answer on the spot was risky." Possible for their wizard of biochemistry, but the Nobel laureate knows better than to push that particular envelope too far. Her eyes shut as she blithely echoes a laugh. "He used an auto-injector in my left arm, and it struck the ulna. He expected almost immediate results and seemed confused when I retreated from him instead of attacking him or showing other unusual symptoms. I don't know what he considered likely to happen; immediate strength, rage? Berserk?" Trust her to know that term. "I was affected by the neutralizing agent after mixing it. We aerosolized the antidote. Injection is necessary for the former, as a drug delivery method." Her bandaged arm held still, she removes the wrappings to show the jab mark. A neat, sharp cut is already scabbed over, in effect. "He was, in a word, pissed. Right before I considered punching him in the face, a most unacceptable alternative."
Jemma Simmons	"Well, I would have found a fist to the face a rather practical response." What? Jemma is advocating violence? "Considering the possibilities, he should be rather grateful for a punch rather than anything too lethal." Ah...there it is. Jemma was always an advocate of non-lethal solutions, when viable. "I would wager this individual would have expected rage. There may be a touch of inhibition-dampeners within the solution. A little extra kick to lower cogitative thinking. Just enough to allow one to justify using brute force as a perfectly serviceable action." So, yes. Berserker frenzy. Classic tactic. "I should be able to reconstruct the antidote easily enough. The injected serum could be fabricated, as well. However, given how sloppy the formula is, it will take considerable genetic engineering to create anything remotely useable as a super solder serum without the necrotizing elements. Why, the compound, just from the brief glance I had of it, lacks an appropriate enzyme to allow for the heightened state without self consumption. I would wager that it was never intended to be a permanent modification, but more for short term gain, to be used on resources deemed 'disposable.'" Jemma shakes her head angrily at that notion, for of course she is probably on the right track. "Ultimately, the need for protein, even as vulgar as consuming flesh, will have exceeded the ability to obtain said protein and the host would have burned out.
Jane Foster	"He appeared to be using his own creation. I suspect him in a decomposing state; something was off. As it is, he's incarcerated and I came here after having a proper nap." The in and out records for timestamped logs will prove this is so, no point in lying to Jemma about it. Doubly so when she actually appears to be awake. "ICERs weren't having any effect on them, unsurprising given one shot or two would fail to take down a super soldier. I'm genuinely at a loss for how he managed to produce a lasting effect without having the stamina loss, though the serum requires a massive protein intake. It might work if one were, say, a tiger." Her imperfect attempt at humour is brought within a case of smiling, leaning a little to the side of the bed. "You sound perfectly sensible. Either the ride took more out of me than I thought or we share a similar view on how to manage things." Still, therein rests the challenge of her arm. "You should be able to isolate more from me than them, since I didn't become a... victim, we'll say. Or rather had not suffered long-term problems in the same way others with more advanced, serious situations than my own. He intended to sell the drug on the black market and certainly had little care for the consequences. Add he called himself after a lwa, that's pretty telling. Especially with Baron Samedi dead. Missing?" How casually she states that. "Papa Llegba is real. Baron Samedi... whatever brings him back, if anything, will have a bargaining chip. I wonder."
Jemma Simmons	"Well, then I greatly apologize disturbing you so in your time of needed respite." There is a true apology in there, somewhere, even if the tone is somewhat teasing. "If I had known, I would have found you a proper bed in which to rest in." Which...wouldn't have been that hard. Jemma does have her own quarters on the Trisk, after all. "In any case, I would imagine that ICERS had no general effect, considering. It would have been easier to immobilize, really. Yet, that would be difficult, too. So, I do not envy you." Yet, yes....having an potentially lethal chemical cocktail is not necessarily a good thing. Even if the antidote supposedly neutralized it. "Well, if you do not mind another small poke, I could take a blood sample and then separate a sample of the drug used. But, I rather only do that should you wish. Otherwise, I would imagine that there is enough evidence already collected to satisfy SHIELD's curiousity." A pause..."maybe not *my* curiousity, but that is another matter."