[ she's woken up in the dark ages. that's how it feels like for christine, anyway, and that impression is not helped any when she goes to look for something to clean the cut she's made on her arm. (handprint or no, hands have a ton of nerve endings in them and getting her hand bloody worked just as well from a cut on her arm.)

her own cut taken care of, she'll still stop every time she spots someone with a bloody hand, arm, other other body part. ] Do you need me to take a look at that? I'm a nurse.

[ who knows how hygenic this motel is? christine's guess is not very and focusing on a — minor, admittedly — medical issue is better than focusing on the fact that she has no idea where she is, how she got here, or how to get back to the enterprise. ]

[ she's found no answers (yet) and the truth is, she's feeling unbalanced with it, stomach heavy —but what can she do but make the best of it?

so christine's exchanged her uniform for an outfit that allows her to blend in a little better. the skating rink, at least, is fun and she's done more than one round and collected a pink-and-teal walkman that is now clipped to her hip.

she's also trying to figure out how to skate backwards right now. she is looking over her shoulder, but there's still a chance she'll accidentally skate into someone's path, right into someone, or that she'll stumble and threaten to fall unless someone helps out. ]

does "starfleet" mean anything to anyone here?

and honestly, when i said i was interested in archeological medicine, a free trip into the past wasn't quite what i had in mind

[ ooc; run into her at the mall or at a bar somewhere, let her know you need medical attention, idk, the sky's the limit ]