fissionmailed | And PLOT COMMENCES. Terrible plot. Horrible, whiny plot.

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And PLOT COMMENCES. Terrible plot. Horrible, whiny plot.

[There is a Liquid wandering the halls. Usually, Liquids are full of zest. This one... not so much. Odd, really. He's been feeling drained all day. His throat is scratchy and it's difficult to breathe properly. Worse, even his reflexes seem to be dulled! His head aches and his body is shaking with the cold. Why is he suddenly feeling the cold? He doesn't know! He's pale as death. He makes a quick call-]

Ocelooooot, where are you? I need you right now.

[-and hangs up. He can't help the rare whininess in his (particularly shaken and scratchy) voice. Liquid has never been sick a day in his life, excluding some of his imprisonment - and the less said about that the better. He leans against the wall, looking miserable, and sinks down to sit on the floor.]

This is a really rotten week... first the gray hair and now this...

DOES THE UNIVERSE JUST HATE ME LATELY?!

[His words break down into a fit of coughing and he buries his face in his hand for a moment as if that will hide his identity.]

(Long story short, Liquid is sick. It's not serious, even though he looks like hell, but prepare for whiny bitch syndrome if you approach him! He's not used to feeling this rotten.)

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You're not my boss. [GLARES right back atcha.] You're thinking of Psycho Mantis, who is my alleged future. I'm Dimitri, pet psychic of the American FBI.

[Slowly, the psychic escorted the sick man up to the seventh floor. Was he that indistinguishable that even his slacks and shirts didn't do enough to tell them apart now?]

Just a little longer. Don't pass out on me.

...hm. Oh. You're him... before you became him? [It made sense in his head.] I suppose that explains the lack of bondage gear.

[He was definitely grateful for the help, regardless. Mostly he talked simply to keep himself focused, because the way he felt, he was likely to just fall asleep if he stopped.]

Odd. I never would have expected you to call yourself a pet.

I don't know what he sees in all that leather. It's hardly comfortable.

[Dimitri has been sick enough to know how bad a fever could get. No coordination, minimal comprehension... Being sick sucked.]

I'm a pet insomuch as you can consider any wild animal a pet. I can leave whenever I want.

Think that's the point... [He half-mumbled the words, absently.] Guy doesn't like to be happy. Ever.

Huh. This is a step down for you then.

Fair enough. [He couldn't argue with a point like that. Dimitri didn't believe he was meant to be happy.]

I was thinking of leaving. After dealing with the murderer I was going to meet. But that might not happen for a long time.

Murderer? [A thoughtful pause.] Don't deal with him. Not a good plan. You should probably leave the FBI as soon as possible.

[... Dimitri paused in their trek down the hall. He was quiet for a moment, but then continued, if a little slower.]

I've been seriously considering that. I'd hate to become....like him.

Mn. It might be wise. But you've got time to decide. You'll likely be stuck here a long time, after all.

Maybe even forever, if I could be so fortunate.

Is this your room? [He didn't want to think too much about his other self. That'd only make them both miserable.]

You might well be. Who knows? This place is good like that.

Yes, mine and Ocelot's. Thank you, Dmitri.

Very well... [He released Liquid from his psychic support, not intending to leave until he saw the man go to bed.]

Unless there's anything else you need, I'll be off. You can find my room on the seventh floor. It has a hammer and sickle on it.

Hammer and sickle... Alright. Thank you.

[He fumbles for his key, tries to kick the door open but doesn't have the strength.]

...

[He shoves the door open with a massive effort and gratefully collapses on the bed inside, since everything is pretty much in one room save the kitchen.]

[Dimitri winced at the attempts to get into the room, peeking inside as Liquid collapsed on the bed.] Absolutely certain you won't die in your sleep?

[Liquid stays entirely unmoving.]

If I do, I'll come back in a few days anyway. But you're welcome to stay if you want.

That hard to say "please", huh?

[He shrugged his shoulders and entered, kicking the door closed. He didn't see this so much as helping as he did constructive pestering.]

Mn. Please stay with me, Dimitri. Forever and ever...

[He was perfectly capable of cracking a joke even like this. Although the creepy voice didn't work so well when his own was croaky and strained.]

[Don't worry! Dimitri made it up with his own laughter: low and slightly hissing.]

You are a strange one. [He adjusted Liquid with his powers so the man had his head on the pillows and the blanket pulled over him.]

[Oh hey, that's unnerving.]

That's probably the nicest way to put it. [Ah-?] ... [He actually smiles a little.] Thanks.

[Dimitri don't care if it's unnerving. If you must flop down onto the bed, be neat about it.]

Sleep, oh stubborn one. [Goes to dampen a small towel with cold water.] I'll endeavor to not let you die until your roommate gets back.

Aww, you're sweet. [He teases a little, relaxing. It only takes a few moments for him to fall into a disturbed and restless sleep.]

[Puts the towel on his head before rummaging around in the kitchenette. There had to be something mostly healthy here he could turn into a hot meal.]

[Everything in Liquid's kitchen was healthy. Even though he couldn't cook at all, he refused to eat junk food. Unless it was chocolate.]

[Well, he was going to be on a diet. Mantis got to work making a stew, keeping note of what he used. It came together slowly and stewed on the stove top quietly.]

[Oh boy! An excuse to eat less. Take that, Ocelot. Someone didn't think he needed to eat more.]

[He turned on his side in his sleep, growing agitated, but for once too drained to do anything about it.]

[A diet of foods that put good meat on them bones, Dimitri would like to clarify. He wasn't completely detached from the land of his birth. The stew alone had to be at least 1000 calories a serving. Marginally more so once he finished with the severely lacking supply of spices.]

[The psychic paused in his stirring to glance over his shoulder, but otherwise kept with his cooking. The pot was just large enough he could make enough stew to feed about five or six people.]

[Humming quietly, he took a test-taste. Hmm! Not bad for odds and sods.]

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FFFF I thought I'd replied to this I am SO SORRY.

*HUG* Don't worry! I've done that too.

*HUG* Thank you ;;

All is forgiven~

\o/

\o\ /o/

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HUG Don't worry! I've done that too.

HUG Thank you ;;