exsiliumlogs | OPEN | I heard you were drinking whiskey straight from the bottle last night.

Entry tags:

OPEN | I heard you were drinking whiskey straight from the bottle last night.

Date & Time: The plague plot duration into apparently the bombing shit
Location(s): Include, Unit 610, Tony's workshop, the clinic, wherever.
Characters: Tony. Probably also Max Kearney, and whoever else feels like getting involved here.
Summary: Long spans the onset of the plague plot through to the bombing. Feel free to make threads near the beginning (he'll have the sniffles on occasion), or towards the end (Tony's going to be sick in the clinic by then), or during the bombing if you'd rather do it here or came up with fun stuff, OR WANT SOMETHING SPECIAL just give me a timeframe or something in your title so i know what I'm replying to.
Warnings: T for Tony. E for ... Everybody else?

[ Like I said. Free for all for things that were planned and needed a place for, or for things that spring to mind and clearly need doing, or something like that. Anything from this whole month that didn't already have a special place, will go here. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She lets him take them both, reaches out to feel his forehead again and frown a little bit. If he can keep the aspirin down and drop this fever just a little bit -

If not, she's not really sure what next. Nobody seems to know. She just knows she needs to keep him alive. ]

[ He doesn't really feel like being touched right now - he can't tell if her hand is cold or just burns on top of the heat he already has - but he doesn't make any effort at all to avoid the gesture. She'll probably want to stick a thermometer or something else in him instead if he does.

It's not that difficult to take the aspirin, even if he drinks the water probably a little faster than he should - he's just thirsty now - before stopping himself and setting the glass down somewhere so he can move the rag again. Meanwhile, he'll take the moment to rest his head against the edge of the tub again too, since that's nice. ] God. Can we just. I vote we kill the UE. That seems like a great idea. I'm not really in the whole war game anymore but I bet I could make an exception. I'd still be really good at making things that blow up. We don't even want to be here.

[ She would definitely want to stick a thermometer in him if she couldn't at least get a basic read on him. Really she should probably do that anyways, but she already knows it's too high and she has to get it down.

So for the moment she's just going to pick up the other rag she wet down, try to wipe the sweat off of his face and neck and see if that will help a little bit. ] Yeah, I figure that would be a good plan. We can totally do that, once you're feeling a bit better. Massive destruction sounds great.

[ He makes a sound that could be considered a dark laugh if it weren't so hilariously cut short and not actually a laugh. It gets the dark part down, and sort of echoes the other part, and she's pretty smart, she'll probably get the sentiment.

But he stays still while she's wiping off his face and neck, drops his head a little front and back so she can reach the nape of his neck and then the front of his shoulders, what's not hidden by the shirt. ] Once I'm feeling a bit better, yeah. [ If that happens. ]

[ She can get the general idea behind it, yeah. And agrees with it - the idea she's getting sounds a lot how she feels right now. Other than what she's already doing she's not sure what she can do, doesn't know how to help him.

Maybe she can steal some sort of industrial strength pain killers from the clinic or something. She's pretty good at that. ] You should lie down. Do you think you can make it to your bed if I help?

[ It's cool he doesn't know how she could be helping him either.

He's pretty displeased, instantly, about the idea of moving, regardless of where it means going to. Like, really doesn't like that idea, but he can at least acknowledge the validity of it. So he sort of. Glares at her for suggesting it, in that tired way that sick people do, but starts to try and get up. Right now not opening his mouth at all seems like an okay idea. ]

[ She makes a face of 'yeah I know but it's still a good idea' at that glare and then holds her hand out, ready to help him up if he needs it. Or possibly even if he thinks he doesn't, because she's fairly certain he does anyway. ] Yeah, okay, you'll just lie down and rest, okay?

And then destruction.

[ He'll concede it's not a horrible idea, but that little measure of willingness evaporates as soon as he's sort of on his feet. He doesn't actually care if he needs help getting up right now, because she's not sick yet and even if he's pretty sure she's going to be sick he doesn't really see the need to do as much as he can to ensure that possibility. So, sort of pushing himself off the tub and the floor, and about a third of the way up he falls back to his knees, and there go the aspirin into the toilet as well. It was also not a horrible idea, but. He drank too much water. ]

I think I'm okay. Just, here.

[ The people she's been out among and the time spent going after the sleeper agents - yeah, she might not be sick yet, but there's no chance she's not infected, won't start to see the symptoms soon. She feels fairly certain about that. And if she isn't, well, she's clearly impervious.

But goddamnit, she was hoping she could get him somewhere more comfortable, hoped that he wouldn't throw up again. She's seen some of the worse cases. Sure, people come back from dying here, but if he dies on her or heads into the stages where it's just - really bad. She's not good at those moments. ] Yeah, sure. I can get you a pillow and blanket or something and you can set up here.

[ He's not actually that fond of being in the bathroom, and really doesn't want to have to get comfortable in here, or cozy. Actually he sort of likes that idea worse than the one where he moves to a bed and then has to get up and move every time he needs the bathroom. It's probably selfish of him, but he doesn't find the energy to care very much. ]

No, I - can we try again? Please?

[ She pauses, glances between him and the door and then back to him. ]

I guess the safest time would technically be immediately after you've thrown up. Yeah, let's try again. Ready?

Promise I won't throw up on you. Scout's honor. See if you can find one nearby. [ Playful to brush off the severity, just like always. He starts to make his way to his feet again though. ]

Big talker. Come on, on your feet. [ But her hand when she reaches to help steady and support him is gentle, not rushing. She'll feel a lot better if he's safely in a bed. And then he's staying there, she can bring a pot from the kitchen or something, but making the trek back and forth to the bathroom seems like a bad idea now. ] Find one what?

Find a boy scout. I wasn't ever one. [ He gets to his feet with her help okay enough, moving slowly but precisely, leaning on her a little bit but clearly trying to move as much of his own volition as possible. It's not too bad a trip. ]

Yeah, well, I hear they're overrated anyways. [ Okay, bed, that's a good start. She settles him down a little bit but as soon as he's supporting himself on the bed she steps back, heads out to the kitchen to get water and a pot and bring it back. ] Sorry about the impending immense boredom.

[ He collapses into the bed, not quite on it, not quite not on it, and if she helps him get on it more squarely, he offers no resistance. He doesn't change his clothes or anything, just lies on top of the bed and once he's full on it, curls up a little, on his side, not moving. He's done, for now. ] CAn you just hit me in the head with that pot you brought in. [ He heard it, and he knows you're not stupid and you know he's not stupid so he knows what she set down next to the bed. ] That'll work out pretty nicely for everyone.

[ She does maneuver him a little bit more onto the bed, just so that he can be comfortable, and doesn't even mention the clothes. Maybe later he can shove his pants off or something but she's okay with him not saying anything yes. ] I'm not going to hit you in the head with anything, I hear you're not supposed to do that to friends and shit. [ But she honestly doesn't know what else to do, here. ] What do you want that's actually reasonable?

That's some sort of rule no one ever told me about. [ He probably won't notice that she ever did anything of the sort until he starts to feel better anyway, although at that point there will be commenting. Right now he's just happy to not be moving anymore. Seriously, he was totally cool with just riding this out on the floor of his workshop. ] Water was probably reasonable, but I need some kind of break before I decide to give my stomach another opportunity to drop-kick me to the tiles. I don't know what I want.

I'm not sure about it, but I feel like violence against people who have been nice to you is just rude. It feels like it. [ Yeah, but see, bed now. A bed with a pillow and blankets and she can bring him cool clothes and water and painkillers and maybe he'll keep these ones down. It's not going to be great, because there's no great with this, but it will be a little bit better than the floor of the workshop. ] Then we'll wait a little bit and try again. You want something portable from your workshop or - I don't know, something?

[ He mostly just grunts to that - he doesn't feel well enough to be witty right now. Actually he feels mostly like being unconscious. He would really, really like to be unconscious right now. It's too difficult to think and he doesn't want to move and he's dehydrating, he can almost feel it happening, between the vomiting and the cold sweats. And the hot sweats. ] You don't have to stay, I'll be good. I'll stay right here, look, I've got a bucket.

[ Maybe she can steal something from the clinic. Or - asking might work too. She guesses. But more and more that's looking like a good idea, if only because she's feeling more tense the less she can do and she doesn't like - he looks too pale, too miserable, she's seen variations on this too many times and she doesn't like it. ] I can go get you something from the clinic that might help. Or maybe they have something that'll knock you out for a little while.

[ Asking would probably work too, yeah, although they're probably slammed right now and it would be faster to just take it anyway. It's not really stealing if you know they'll give it to you anyway. Right?

That doesn't sound too bad though, something to go to sleep with. Or really just anything to alleviate some of this. And it'll mean he's alone for a little while and can feel miserable without having to censor it at all - not that he's making like, a fantastic effort for that as it is, but it's still less work to do. ] Okay, that sounds good. Whatever you can find, I don't really care.

[ Okay, awesome. Something she can do, and knows she can do well, and she nods and moves around the apartment for a moment to sling a bag on and get another wet wash towel to hand to him. ] Don't move. [ Half of a smile, crooked and not particularly convinced it wants to be a smile, and then she vanishes.

It's a little while before she shows back up, but she did acquire both of what she went to get. She calls out as she closes the front door behind her. ] Still here?

[ He flicks his wrist or something or whatever, indicating he heard her but he can't really spare the energy to make much more of an acknowledgement than that. But then she's gone, and he's alone for a little while, and he's able to let his walls down a little. He feels like shit, and he rolls over a little bit, reaches over to grab a pillow and curl around it, bite down on it a little to see if that helps with the nausea. He's just been gradually feeling worse and worse for a while now, and right now, right here, with nothing to distract himself from it, even if he's aware that this is probably the better course of action, he feels worse for the lack of distractions than he has this whole time so far. So he lets it hit him, stops fighting so hard for just a little while and sinks into a bit of a daze.

It's not until he can tell she's on the way back that he comes back to himself, realizes his face is wet and tries to wipe it on the pillow really quick before tucking it under his head rather than tucking himself around it. She doesn't need to know everything. He still feels just as horrible, but he has quietly and without even thinking about it vented some of the stress from it, and he at least feels a little better in one respect, even if he really really doesn't in the other. ]

Yeah. [ Deep breath. Still not moving much. ] What'd'ya find?

[ It's probably better not to dwell on whatever precise methods she used to obtain stuff from the hospital. Best choice.

Anyways, she does eventually return, and she makes a point of making noise when she's coming in through the front door so that she doesn't startle him and so that if he's doing anything or doesn't want her to come in he can say so. But he doesn't, and she holds up a glass in one hand and a filled syringe in the other hand. There's more stuff in her bag, but she figures they'll start with the painkillers and the anti nausea stuff. ]

Drinking this should help with your stomach, and this stuff is the good kind of painkiller, so. [ If it doesn't help they're screwed, but she's not goign to think of it like that. ] Bottoms up.

i like doughnuts though

but you'll get all sticky

what if it was a halo instead

but it's you, it can't be a halo

i'm only grudgingly accepting that because you like me either way, okay

okay, fair enough

/hand shake

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