Editing Commissar Techpriestess love story (section)

=== Chapter 3 ===
Octavia awoke in the medical tent, under crisp clean white sheets. To her left stood a medic and her fellow techpriestess Caelistis, discussing the charts detailing her flesh and machine health, to her right, sitting, facing her, was Rogal. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, a dusting of stubble across his jaw.
"I think she's awake," He said, getting the attention of the Medic and Techpriestess. The pair turned to their patient, the medic flicking through the charts once more before handing it to the techpriestess, and walking away. The techpriestess coughed for effect, "Physically, you are fine, there was just a psychosomatic overload to your potential coil, which lead to a stack overflow of a few different psychoemotive centers in your cognitive augments."
Octavia looked at her friend, her eyes lidded, still groggy, when a small txtcom window popped up in her vision.
"U swoon'd lol," It said
"What?" Octavia mentally sent back,
"U swoon'd lol, check your memnor." Caelistis sent, followed by a string of laughing animotes.
With a sigh of effort, Octavia pulled up her memnor files, and felt the colour flood her cheeks once more. She had swooned. She followed the command trace, the swoon had come from everywhere at once, her fleshbrain overriding so many things. Slinking back down in the cot, she glanced over at Rogal, who caught her eye, and then looked away. He got to his feet, "She seems to be making a recovery, I want a report on my desk by midnight tonight, understood?"
Caelistis nodded, "As you wish, Commissar."
Rogal marched from the tent, his mind tumbling.

Rogal left the tent and sighed. He had been worried, almost irrationally so, by the techpriestess's fainting. No one had any idea what had happened to her, and he had felt compelled to stay by her side.

"How long was I... inactive?" Octavia asked, pushing herself back up the bed with her mechadendrites. Caelistis folded a pair of mechadendrites under herself, using them as a seat, "About thirty six hours, standard terran. Everything nonessential shut down, I believe, and your crashlog supports, as a safety precaution."
Octavia furrowed her brow, "Safety precaution? What do you..." Her eyes widened as the crashlog scrolled past, huge energy spikes, unexplained biological reactions, all sorts of unusual commands being sent from nowhere to nowhere. Caelistis laughed, a slightly digital sound, "You my dear Octavia, are infatuated."
"I am not."
Caelistis sent another burst of links to files in Octavia's memnors, "Oh, really?"
Her eyes widened, as Octavia let out a small "eep".

Scraps of .drm files flitted past, along with the various memnorpicts that had been taken recently. All of them, containing in one way or another, the Commissar. Various notes and addendum showed how she had noticed things, from his efficiency at chopping wood,
"To how he appears to be well in proportion," Caelistis said, before giggling, "You're infatuated."
Octavia pouted, folding her arms and a set of mechadendrites, "I am not. maybe. We'll run some tests then?"
Caelistis laughed again, "Yes. Tests. Whatever you want to call them. Look, why don't you go and take your report over to him, and test all you want?"
Octavia just sat there, pouting. "Fine, but not yet. I want some comfort food. This is embarrassing."
Her friend just smiled, "I thought you would say that, so I talked to the cook, to see if I could get some of those confections you like. He said no."
Octavia sighed sadly, "However," Caelistis continued, "Once your commissar heard his decline,"
"He's not my commissar, he is the battalions commissar," Octavia corrected
"Your commissar heard that, he told the cook to make it happen, or else he was up for summary execution for crimes against humanity. You should have seen the thermals on the cook, wait.."
Caelistis sent the footage to Octavia, "See, his extremities go cold, and look, I think he soiled himself," Caelistis said, giggling, highlighting the hot patch at the cooks crotch.

Rogal stared at himself in the mirror, water trickling in rivulets down his face. His stubble was gone, his hair was tidied, his teeth brushed. He grabbed a cloth and wiped his face, before returning to his bunk. He sat down. He stood up. He paced. He lifted some weights he had improvised from empty bolter ammo containers and cement. He sat on his bunk and tried to carve. Sighing, he threw the lump of wood at his desk and flopped back on his bunk. Rogal hadn't slept in over two days, and he felt every minute of it. Normally he slept soundly after combat, the lull after an adrenaline high helping him, but with Octavia. He corrected himself, The techpriestess, fainting on him, he had been worried sleepless. He had found himself unable to leave her side. Something about her face, those delicate features, those emerald green eyes, looking out from under that hood that framed her face so well. He shook his head, what was she doing there. How did she get there, and why couldn't he get her out. Sighing loudly, Rogal rolled from his bunk and started doing pushups. Why didn't he want her out of his head. Hundreds of pushups later, Rogal dragged himself back to his bunk, and collapsed into it, asleep before his head hit his pillow.

Octavia's mechadendrites primped and preened, smoothing her robe, flicking away specks of dust that only augmented eyes could see, as she stood outside the Commissars tent. In her hands, she held the report, and a pair of mechadendrites held a ration pack. Caelistis had insisted on her bringing the rations, Octavia knew not why.
"You know how he is... inefficient, as you put it," she had said with a grin, "So what's to bet he inefficiently forgot to eat?"

Octavia stood outside the commissars tent, looking at her feet. No one actually noticed, but her feet looked like boots, and as such, she happily walked around bare footed all of the time. It was a small freedom she allowed herself, reminding her of her life before the Mechanicum. Swallowing, she braced herself, "Commissar Hephastus?" 
Her voice was barely above a whisper,
"Commissar Hephastus, sir?" She called again, a little louder, but still, no reply. A passing guardsman saw her plight, "Here, engineer, allow me," He said, grinning at his good fortune to help the famous Octavia,
"Commissar Hephastus. Sir. You have a visitor," He called, and was gifted with a groggy reply,
"Let them in,"
The Guardsman pushed the tent flap aside, "Go on in, Gifted one,"
Octavia nodded in thanks and slipped past him, into the dim light of Rogal's tent.

Rogal rolled over in his bunk, bundling the blanket around him. His officers knew he needed his sleep, and had learned from long experience that he was prone to sleep talking. Octavia made her way carefully though the tent, her movements deft and silent, her eyes flicking through the various low light modes they were capable of.
"Commissar Hephastus, sir?"
The blanketed lump made a noise,
"Commissar Hephastus, Sir. I have your report here." Octavia said again, her voice still small, but audible. Again, a non committal noise came from the lump on the bunk. Octavia moved a little closer, her green eyes glowing in the dim light, "Commissar Hephastus?" A mechadendrite snaked forward, prodding gently at the slumbering giant, "Commissar Hephastus?"
The mechadendrite responded to its owners annoyance at being ignored, and jabbed harder. With a roar, Rogal jumped from his bunk, landing in a crouch, fists raised. Octavia fell back in surprise, landing with a thud on the floor of the tent, her mechadendrites splayed out to cushion her fall, and protect the rations. Rogal activated the glowglobe, before turning to his guest.

"Emprah on earth, Octavia, are you alright?" Rogal asked as he knelt down beside his guest and helped her to her feet, "I had no idea anyone was in here."
Her mechadendrites straightening her robe, Octavia looked away, avoiding eye contact and praying to the Omnissiah that she isn't blushing. "I tried to get your attention but you didn't hear me, then a guardsman called out and you responded so I came in, and then I tried to wake you but you didn’t respond so I tried some more, and you still didn't respond, and it frustrated me so I made sure you would wake up and you did and you nearly scared the machine spirit out of me, and..." Octavia turned to look the commissar in the eye, but was met with an eyeful of abs. Having helped her to her feet, Rogal had since stood up straight, still groggy from his rest. "And?" He asked, looking back at his guest. Her hood had fallen back, revealing chocolate brown hair, up in a simple ponytail. He averted his eyes, she averted hers. "And," Octavia continued, "I believe it its considered improper behaviour for a Commissar to be in such a state of undress when in the presence of a member of the Mechanicus, outside of medical treatment, as defined by article seven dash thirty two G,"

Rogal looked down at his bare chest, over at Octavia who seemed to have taken a great interest in the ceiling, back to his chest, and then back to Octavia, whose eye he caught, before she looked back to whatever had taken her fancy. Rogal blushed, and fumbled for his blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders like a cape. He thanked the Emprah he had at least the sense to fall asleep with his trousers on.

Octavia looked away as her mind tumbled into action. The testing had begun and already data was not showing the results she wanted. Adrenaline was up, dopamine was up, a host of other chemicals she shouldn't be needing were up. Her fleshbrain purred contentedly, repeating over and over the images of the commissar with the blanket as a cloak. Octavia eep'd against her will, as she forced herself to stare at the ceiling. Her fleshbrain whimpered that one more look wouldn't hurt anyone.

Behind the distracted techpriestess, Rogal fumbled around for his uniform, finding his boots, he pulled them on, thankful for also leaving his socks on, before he pulled his dress jacket across his shoulders, focusing more on being presentable, rather than being properly dressed. He pushed his shirt under his bunk with a toe, before coughing politely.
"I must apologize for that, Priestess. That was very rude of me. Would you like a seat?" He asked, gesturing to the table and chairs in the corner of the tent. Octavia nodded, and Rogal crossed the tent in a couple of strides, pulling a chair out for his guest, "M'lady, if you would?"
Octavia sat down, and pulled herself to the Table, as the Commissar took his seat opposite of her.
"Now, how may I help you?"

Octavia felt her spine stiffen, as she fumbled around for the report. "You asked for this, Commissar, and Techpriestess Caelistis told me to deliver it."
She explained, placing the data slate on the table and pushing it towards the still bed haired Commissar. Rogal reached forward, his hand dwarfing the dataslate, and as he pawed it towards him, their fingers met. Octavia's potentia coil surged, sending a charge down her arm, and a spark jumped from her fingers to his. The pair jerked, and inwardly, Octavia cursed the Omnissiah for not protecting her from such a malfunction. Rogal shook his hand to clear the tingling sensation, before awkwardly stammering "Are you okay, Octavia?"
Blushing at the use of her name, she turned away, suddenly finding the weave of the tent wall fascinating, "I am fine, Commissar. Just a small hiccup in my digital power coupling. Nothing whatsoever to do with the physical contact between the two of us. Nothing at all."
Rogal coughed nervously, before turning his attention to the dataslate. He scanned down, absorbing the information, "psychosomatic something something psychoemotional something something potentia coil inverter something something measurements of 34 26 34 something something likes her men like she likes her tanks..." Rogal stopped, his simple farm boy brain rereading the last couple of lines, before he felt the blood rushing to his face, and to other parts of him. He coughed awkwardly, before attempting to make small talk, an attempt that was cut short by his stomach grumbling loudly.

An awkward silence filled the tent. Rogal looked one way, Octavia the other, as her mechadendrites moved of their own accord and placed the ration pack on the table. Octavia looked at it first, unaware of her own mechadendrites movements, before she broke the silence,
"And Caelistis also said you may have forgotten to eat, and seeing as your body still requires a large amount of nutrients to function at full efficiency, I thought I would bring you a ration pack and maybewecouldshareitanditwouldbelikethosegeltromancenovelsthatCaelistisreads..." Octavia stopped herself, realizing the rant she had embarked upon, and quickly ran back over the log of what had just happened. So many psychoemotional errors and overrides from her fleshbrain.