Max was already sick of the lights.
Funny that the worst thing about being moved to the med-bay of Yavin 4's Jedi Temple was the lights. He had only just arrived back at the Temple, his layover around Corellia to throw off pursuit had been a strategically sound idea but one that his overall health had suffered for. An attending healer had done some preliminary scans and treatment on his right arm and already he knew the news was bad.
Apparently the delay of treatment getting from Corellia to Yavin meant that parts of his lower right arm were dying beyond the rate of what they could fix. Already they were prepping localized bacta injections and blood infusions but it was to minimize the damage now rather than to fix it. He stared down at his right forearm, encased in a glass vessel that surrounded what remained in bacta. His ribs were bad but they were something that he could live with for now. The healer on duty had told him it was a miracle he'd managed to use the Force to stop himself from bleeding out or going into shock on the way.
Didn't feel like a miracle.
Rolled into the small medbay from the treatment area, Max just stared up at the ceiling, at the damned lights, as he was moved into position on the bay. He could feel his friend through the Force but he couldn't bring himself to look away from the lights.
Damn those lights to hell.
"Anybody die, Hans?"
Even above feeling sorry for himself, Max couldn't help but ask it first.
@Mr. Teatime