fissionmailed | 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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I have been. More than once. [Usually with a murderer of sorts, but still.]

People are- [He makes an odd sound, like he started to choke but swallowed the urge back.] -stranger than anyone can understand.

Edited 2011-04-12 02:59 (UTC)

I'd believe that.

[?]

You're not about to vomit, are you?

[He nodded, clamping his hand over his mouth. Goddammit. This was not good.]

[SIGH.]

Sink. Now. I'll hold your hair back.

[He nodded, slipping from the bed and falling straight down.]

...

[It was through pure will and stubbornness that he managed to make it to the sink at all.]

[And it was through the use of more psychic powers that Liquid could keep standing at all. As promised, he wrapped as much of that blonde hair around his fingers and held it back.]

[On the bad side, it left a rotten taste in his mouth as his body jerked and heaved. On the bright side, he felt a lot better afterwards - even if his throat felt raw.]

Thanks...

[One obvious benefit to the gas mask: you didn't have to smell bile and half digested food so easily. He turned on the hot water full blast, making a cheap attempt to clean up the unsightly mess. Admittedly, being able to know that Liquid had surprisingly soft hair was a bit of a bonus. He had been wondering if it was a natural shade of blonde.]

You are not the first person who's retched on me, and certainly won't be the last.

I haven't felt this bad in eleven years. Wretched illnesses. How do people let themselves get into this state?!

[Liquid stared at the ground rather than the sink, listening to the sound of the water.]

[There was a little washcloth by the sink and Dimitri held it under the water before offering it to Liquid.]

Most people don't want to get sick.

[He took it, washing his face with an irritated air.]

I should damn well hope not!

[Le sigh! He waited until Liquid was through washing before turning off the sink.]

A shower might do you some good. [Not that he was eager to stick around for that.] It will soothe the cough.

I'm fine for now. I'd sooner wait until Ocelot came home for that. No offense.

[Liquid glanced over at Dimitri.]

None taken. Perhaps it's best I leave now. I think you'll be alright.

[Typical tactic: when in doubt, run like hell.]

Understood. Take care, Dimitri. I'll repay you once I'm back in full health.

Of that, I have little doubt. [With greatest hesitance, he patted Liquid twice on the shoulder and left, suddenly in the mood to tidy up his living space.]

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

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