Doc leaned against the door frame of the pilots locker room and tried to look unconcerned.
"Boss, this may not be the brightest idea in the history of aviation. You still have stitches in that may not hold up to this and some of those ribs are not healed properly. It will hurt a tad. And the plates and screws in your arm and leg may be put under a bit of stress, and cause some....discomfort. The bones they are holding together are also, just to add some spice, not fully knitted and therefore........you are not listening so I will shut up"
He continued to watch Boss pull on the flight suit over the pressure suit without even wincing (much) and stoop (almost without swaying) to lace up his boots.
"Boss, why are you doing this?"
"You heard about that shit two weeks ago, in the bar? Flyboy - he should be rock solid but he lost it and Skit had to knock him on his arse. People are coming apart. These damn new kids have not even bloody seen me! They think I'm just a story the old hands tell them to make them try harder. Well, I am not dead and it's about time I introduced myself"
Doc sighed, "But like this? I should re check your head for trauma.."
