Medic was in his office, doing paperwork while a radio nearby spewed out classical music and static. The windows were black, and rain occasionally hit them. A clock ticked on the Medic's mantelpiece. Doves cooed quietly in their sleep. Medic stopped his paperwork, stretched his arms and legs, and glanced at the clock.
"Mitnacht? Das ist nicht gut." Medic muttered.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in." said Medic.
Engineer came in, shutting the door behind him.
"Vhat do you vant at this hour?" asked Medic.
"Um, I don't know how to explain this, but I've, um, got a problem I need to talk about." replied Engineer.
"Go on."
"Well, I replaced my right hand with the Gunslinger a few years back, but I've started having problems with it."
"Engineering is your speciality, not mine."
"That's why I've waited until midnight, when the other mercs are asleep. I think my Gunslinger is poisoning me."
"Vhy didn't you see me earlier than this?"
"I didn't think I was being poisoned."
"Reichtig. Remove the Gunslinger, please, and I'll use the medi-gun on you. I'll talk to the Administrator about this tomorrow."
"What'll I do in the meantime, doc?"
"As regards a new hand, vell, you are the practical person out of the two of us, Herr Engineer. Other than that, get some sleep vhen I'm finished."
"Alrighty then."
Medic did his stuff, and Engineer went to bed. Sat down at his desk, Medic composed a note to the Administrator to be carried to her by one of his doves about Engineer's condition, and if she would consider imposing a cease-fire until Engineer had fixed the Gunslinger or made a replacement.
When the doctor had finished, he leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. His team might be composed mainly of idiots, but they defined his job, and who he was.