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Graves entered the Med Lab. It hadn't been until he had rested the back of his head against the locker that he had noticed he still had a cut on the back of his head. The shower had cleaned it well enough, washed away the blood, but the sergeant figured he'd have it check out just to be safe. As he walked by Schiefer he handed him the cup he had left in the armorey and walked on. "Finish the damn drink Bull. Wasteful bastard." he tossed casually over his shoulder and sat down, sipping his own cup of the concotion. Its downright disgusting taste, yet energetic kick was keeping him awake for the moment.

Graves looked around, assessing the situation. Gazes and another female medic, one he wasn't familiar with, was tending to the wounded. Graves said nothing and set his drink down. There were more that were worse off than he. He could patiently wait his turn for medical assistance. He leaned back on his table. The padded seats and back were so comfortable, warm...he felt his eyes droop...almost immedietly he drifted off then shot his eyes open and sat back up, the pain that shot through his wound had erased any hope of a nap. He removed his cap and set it beside him and waited, cussing under his breath at the rude awakening.

Graves wanted to reprimand the soft female voice that he had heard for calling him 'sir', however he hardly had the energy or care left to do so. His eyes moved up from her boots and up her slight form to meet her eyes. He hadn't gotten a very good look at her from a distance when he came in. It was odd, she certainly didn't have the face of a Marine, yet there was something about the look in her eyes that told him she certainly was one, He quickly averted his eyes. It didn't Matter.

Graves eyes shifted quickly to her chevrons to check her rank and then met her eyes again. "Yes Private, I have a wound on the back of my head." he leaned his head forward so she could check the cut. "It's mostly cleaned I think...but I figured I'd best get a professional opinion on it." he smild a bit, trying to keep his tired eyes open.

Graves winced a bit as she began to clean and swab around his wound, oddly, the pain soon subsided, and he felt rather calm and content as this young woman treated the cut. He couldn't put his finger on it really, but thinking too much wasn't entirely within his grasp after such a grueling day without any sleep.

He felt the spray move across the wound, something that would normally sting like a bastard. Nothing. He smilled a bit and felt her carefully apply the bandage to the wound. The first time a cut had been treated without any pain? This certainly was pleasant. He slowly slid from the bench and stood up, slowly placing his cap on his head.

He smiled and nodded at the young private in thanks. "Thank you Private...hmm Hawkins? Probably in the damn mess hall. Hold on." Graves moved over to the intercom on the wall and pressed the button, the alert sounded in the hallways followed by Graves' voice. "Private Hawkins...Report to the med lab immedietely. Private Hawkins." Graves let go of the pager and moved back from the wall and back over to Private Jones, he had an amused smile on his face, but it was good natured. "We do have intercoms Private..." he looked at her name tape. "Jones." He chuckled. "Anything else private?"

He put a hand on her shoulder a moment as she began to read through his file. "After you finish up with him, get something to eat and go to bed. You ladies have done outstanding tonight." Graves smiled and then let go of her shoulder, walking past Schiefer and patting the side of his uninjured arm and headed out into the hall. Maybe now he could head to bed and get a good nights rest, two more hallways and...

"Liutenant Ambrose, Sergeant Schiefer, Sergeant Graves, please report to the command center." Graves stopped in his tracks. Captain Stevens. He sighed and turned on his heel. Looks like bed would have to again wait, he walked briskly back the way he came, he didn't dare leave the Captain waiting.