Doctor, doctor, gimme the news

[thepull_mods]

Who: Sick people and their well-wishers
When: May 13th-June 4th
Where: Hospitals and clinics all over the Port
Summary: A catch-all log for hospitalized people and their visitors all over the Port during the sickness plot. Everyone feel free to centralize your hospital visit threads here for convenience!
Warning: Please mark your threads if you'll need any.

Comments

this one is better

[retraced]

[He nods and fights to sit up straighter so that she can see him easier. The pen and paper is still in his pocket, but now he's wondering if she'd even be able to read...

Carefully, he reaches over to wrap his fingers loosely around her wrist to check her temperature. Those screens that keep beeping probably have the information written up on them, but he's still not comfortable accepting the word of modern machines.]

no I like the other one.... :*

[acemedium]

[Maya blinks at him blearily and tries to squirm as he goes for her wrist, but it doesn't do her much good. Her fever's rather high despite the doctors' (and Jake's) effort to keep it down]

[Okay, next conclusion to jump to... Is she dead?]

What are y-you--- [And coughing once or twice] --doing here??

/snugs

[retraced]

[He starts to open his mouth to reply, but it only comes out as half-words and wheezes. He opts to clear his throat instead, let go of her wrist, and go for the pad of paper in his jacket pocket. Written in shaky but legible cursive and held up in front of her face:]

Is your vision still good enough to read this?

<3

[acemedium]

[It takes some squinting and a minute, but she nods. The world's coming back into focus, Gilbert's here (her chest hurts, so she can't be dead, can she?)--]

[Gilbert's here. Why would he be here?. Again:]

M-Mr. Nightray...

[retraced]

[He nods, flips to another page.]

I only came to visit. Would you rather I left so you can rest?

[acemedium]

[She tries to draw herself, sit up straight as to appear healthier - but there's a pang of guilt and she dissolves into a wheezing fit]

N-No, I..... You should r-rest, you look terrible.

I'm fine, s-so you don't have to worry about me.

[retraced]

[Frown.]

I could say the same thing to you. You can hardly breathe.

[Says Writes the man who can't even speak.]

[acemedium]

[At least she can still speak]

I-It just looks bad. I'll be fine. You can't... talk, you need to rest.

[retraced]

[He puts his paper down then and reaches out to take her hand, silently, just resting his fingers on top of her knuckles. This is what comforted people, right? Taking hold of their hands? Maybe...

He has no idea what he's doing, even without the fever making it more difficult.]

[acemedium]

I---

[It's the last thing she expected, and it shuts her up. Comforting, yes, the physical contact stirs something warm up, but she doesn't understand why-]

[(All she's ever done is trouble him)]

I-I'm sorry.

[retraced]

[He responds to her apology by fully wrapping his fingers around hers and squeezing them gently. It's okay, Maya.]

[acemedium]

[In the disease-wracked, feverish, guilt-ridden state she's in, that gesture almost makes her cry. Almost. She's still so emotionally raw from losing Wolfwood a second time - for failing him, for failing Pearl, for forever being helpless to help or save the people she loves, that his kind, comforting gesture nearly tears her up.]

[As it stands, another wave wave of guilt rolls over and she coughs pathetically before whispering, again, fainter:]

I'm s-sorry, Mr. N-Nightray, I...

[retraced]

[It hurts too much to listen to, but he can't tell her to be quiet, he can barely even muster enough breath to shush her. Squeezing her hand didn't work either...ah, giving comfort really is hard.

He lets go of her hand and moves his hand up to her head, instead, brushing back her hair from her forehead to rest his cool fingers on top of her warm skin. Clearing his throat the best that he can, he manages a hoarse whispered:]

It's all right.

[acemedium]

[She's already shaking from chills, but she trembles a little more as he does so, squeezing her eyes shut at the contact. Her forehead's clammy and sweaty on top of being warm; not exactly pleasant to touch.]

[She still doesn't understand.]

[Continuing, faintly, guiltily:]

I.. I really like your cooking.

[retraced]

[She

what?

He blinks and sniffles, sure that the congestion in his ears must be warping her words because why on earth would she say that, even if she believed it? At a time like this? He clears his throat again and whispers:]

Really? Then why -

[It's all he can get out before his voice disappears back into a painful sounding wheeze again.]