Elms was nineteen, eh? Suicide mentally resorted her into the "kid" category, but like Nume, she was a kid who had shown some excellent backbone. Still--ai Na'an, he was being condescended to by someone less than half his age. He really was getting old. When he was nineteen, he hadn't even expected to live to twenty, let alone to forty-something (how old was he, anyway?), and now he was the crazy old man people couldn't believe someone would sleep with. How times change, eh?
On the other hand, there were serious benefits to being the crazy old man . . .
"Tempting," he said, planting a quick kiss on the top of Jenni's head. "But we might give the callow youth PTSD if we tried to enlighten them." There was a moment of relaxation as the nurses breathed again. "But it looks like there's still plenty to do around here. And I know it's not the Medical department, but you do have plenty of drugs and supplies here, don't you? I did tell you I wanted to practice my field medicine. I thought I saw Legolas looking rather beat-up in the hallway, too." He gave Jenni his best charming grin, which wasn't very charming at all but got the message across. "I need to learn to use anesthesia some time, right?"
Jenni was indeed the mother of a two-year-old, so she was likely familiar with some version of the expression that briefly flitted across Suicide's face. It was similar to the one any small boy got... more