fuckthemission | 04 | voice/written/action | Kidnap shifts are a bitch, and I hate 'em.

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04 | voice/written/action | Kidnap shifts are a bitch, and I hate 'em.

[June 9th (Nighttime)]

[Doyle returns from the mission and hopes distantly that the shift placed on him would be gone. It is not, and he's got an insignificant wound that probably needs a few stitches and something to disinfectant. He basically makes a beeline for his place, locks himself up (and may run into people along the way, despite his attempts to be sneaky). He'll just have to wait for it to wear off.

Yeah.]

[Voice]

Can anyone do me a favor? Probably a doctor at the clinic--I need, uh. A kit for stitching up minor injuries, things like that? Something to disinfect a wound? I'm not really in a position to go down to the clinic... If we can arrange somewhere to pick it up, I'd really owe ya.

[If you're in Community Housing 7, you might feel a phantom heat passing through the Floor 3 hallway. Also if you're Doyle's neighbors or you're above or below his room, sorry about the weird heat that seems to bounce around your place. :|]

[June 10th]

[It's getting worse. He's feeling a lot more restricted, a lot more like he's drowning in peak summer heat. Started sweating more; he takes nightly walks like he does sometimes, though more-so to escape how his room smothers him. Eventually, though, he starts to realize that he can't go to the grocery store, or the restaurant, or the item shop. Or the middle of the plaza. Frankly, he realizes he's just shoving heat in people's faces wherever he's at.

There's some joke to be made about making people want to take their clothes off, but he's too tired to amuse it. He temporarily stays in an empty house further back from any people, just until this wears off. Needs food, though. Going to the grocery shop isn't going to work out. At all.

A while later, an anonymous person pens in this handwriting:]

[Written / Anonymous]

I'm stuck in a predicament, and I kinda' need food. If anyone can drop some off at the house I'm staying in, I'd really appreciate it--and I'd owe you one. Just on the doorstep, and I can do the rest.

[If people do decide to help out, he'd appreciate it. He even pens the house number. Just don't be alarmed if you help, or even if you just walk by, that something unceremoniously warm is seeping through the walls of the house. He's got the air on, the fans on, and he's still not feeling too relaxed.

He also goes out and sits at the lake. By the time he's there for an hour, two, he sits in the water and feels some semblance of relief for once.]

[June 11th]

[Fucking hell. Fuck.

He's given up on shirts. He's drinking a lot of water, too. Been sitting in the shower at the unspecified house until he prunes up. It offers a little relief. Not a whole lot. When it starts to rain he goes outside, goes back to the lake, sits in the water, in the rain; he hasn't gotten sick from it yet, so he's not about to stop.

When the rain clears up, he drags himself onto the shore and lays there. He feels too hot. He's going to burn up--they're going to burn him all up, aren't they, those assholes?

Too hot... Ugh... Too hot.

It's raining and overcast and he's laying here suffocating in heat.

What were the odds.]

((ooc: basically anyone within a 10-foot radius will feel like they're in a really hot desert that will progressively get worse the closer they go; the heat is stifling and hard to be around. Another 10 feet after that, there's a mild heat that'll probably be more recognizable on the rainy days. Touching him'll make you feel like you're being burned. Also to note, it only effects living things. So no actual hot objects. :|b

It'll go away before anything gets too intense for him, but he's a little freaked out and anxious and all that.))

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...I could handle it.

[Doubtful. The heat would be distracting, she wouldn't be able to focus on finding the right vein...]

If not I could walk you through it easily enough. And I will want to take a look at the aforementioned stitches Rick. Just to be sure you didn't botch them, of course.

[It's awkward, standing off to the side as they walk, speaking from a distance. After awhile the heat becomes more uncomfortable than she can stand. The umbrella's closed and set off to the side. She's soaked within seconds, and still too. Damn. Hot.]

[He quietly steps sideways a few feet, aware of her discomfort.]

Give me a little credit, doc. I'm not a five-year-old doing a knitting project.

[He sucks in a breath and the world tips up and down, making him stagger for a moment. He humorously wonders, despite this, how she always catches him at the times he's hardly able to walk.]

Considering some of the types of people I attract, I might have to start learning self-stitching anyway. Before the doctors in town cramp their hands.

[She's fine with the distance. Even manages a soft laugh at his commentary. At least until he staggers. Adele darts in without thinking, even manages to make it within a foot of him before it's too much. She remains all the same, hand outstretched. Just in case he needed it.]

When this passes-[High. Breathy. Roughened with heat and shallow breath. She swears and steps back once he steadies himself.] I will be more than happy to walk you through it.

... will you just stay back, dammit.

[He tries to sound authoritative, but it just ends up cracked as he puts his hand up, head bowed for a moment. The shame of his panic passes over his features before he tries to walk again. He talks through it, hands clenched into shaking fists. It's hot all around him. He feels it. Sooner or later it's going to burn, and then his skin will melt away, and his eyes'll--

He shakes his his head.]

I can do this.

I'll do this, alright? Just... walk me through the medical shit if I need it. I can do this.

[She doesn't like having to step back but. She must. There's nothing else for it. It's too uncomfortable to remain close, a detriment to his idiotic pride, and just. Exhausting at this point. Adele waits for him to settle, breathe through whatever swell of heat that had him stagger before she resumes walking.

This was everything she hates.

A situation where her skills are useless. Where this is something she cannot fix.]

I will be more than able to explain the nuances of sedating yourself, even if it has been awhile since I've had to do it.

[He walks in silence after a nod, manages to get to the inside of the house he's been staying in--but he can't take it much more. He really can't. He can barely even see straight. For a moment the colors swirl together and then he feels his lungs screaming at him to breath right. A panicked wheeze and he leans into the couch inside, knocking over a heavy side-table as he staggers again, unable to recuperate from it just yet. Sweat drips down his neck and jawline.]

Fucking hell--

[She has to walk close to get by him anyway. Make for the bathroom and start up cold water. That is her intent, at least. She doesn't make it that far-

He staggers, he wheezes, and Adele's at his side without thinking, grabbing his shoulder to help him upright before she staggers back with a low hissed string of obscenities.

It'd been like sticking her hands into a fire, she can't keep from staring at them, whole, unharmed, but throbbing with that phantom pain. There should be blisters. Broken skin. Blackened flesh.

But they're whole and unmarked.]

That...stings. Like a bitch.

I tried--tell you--

[He holds his throat, breathing deep, needy breaths. His vision is prickling with black dots. He swallows hard as he's done far too many times, the carpet underhand getting dark with perspiration.]

Ice... The bath...

I know Rick.

[A moment more for the sensation to recede. No blisters. No burns. Just the odd flare and hypersensitivity that comes with stung flesh. He can't stand on his own much longer.]

...This. This is going to-. Shit.

[She weaves past him, panting through grit teeth to finish running the cold water in the bath. Doubles back for him and approaches. Wrapped in a coat too big for her and gloves she hopes is his.

It won't help. Much. But it is better than nothing.]

Can you stand?

[Of course I can, he tries to say, but he nods instead because it's so much easier than trying to talk through this. Though, when he attempts to get to his feet the lightheaded-ness hits him in the face and he crumples back down to his hands and knees again. Ice cold bath, Doyle, just think of the relief that'd come with that. His hands run along the top of the couch and he grips tight, pulling with white knuckles until he's at least leaning against the furniture.]

Right--okay.

[Raspy and weary, he blinks hard like he's trying to un-view something.]

[This is a bad idea.

This is going to hurt.

Don't. Just. Don't.]

...merde.

[Low, curt, under her breath and she bites down on anything else she might say and steps in fast. Loops an arm around his ribs and swears a stream of curse words the moment she's within a foot of him. Grits her teeth and bears it, hauling him up once he's stable and starts leading him to the bathroom. It's close. It burns. Christ she's on fire and it hurts and she can't think and all she has to do is drop him and get away but it burns-

She's crying while they walk. Stagger. Limp. She makes it all of three feet with him, to the closest door frame before she has to let him grab hold of that and scramble away. Double over in the hall and sob quietly to herself as the burning eases.]

[It probably doesn't help that he quickly shoves her aside in a panic, looking at her like she's lost her mind--because she has. Or at least, she'll realize how fucking stupid that was now. The last thing Doyle wants, in his half-conscious ragged state, is to have someone else feel that sensation. He crumples against the wall and shakes his head.]

No more--of that shit. You don't need that shit, doc.

[Because it's not working. He drags himself along the wall--almost there, one, two, three steps, a little more. He remembers taking steps back then. He took a couple of steps and then fell to his knees then. He couldn't see the car drive for long. He couldn't hear it driving away.

When he gets to the bath he doesn't bother taking his clothes off. He collapses into the water and lays there and feels a short burst of relief in his bones. A gasp of air and he lets himself sink down all the way, submerged, eyes squeezed shut.

It'd be better to just drown, if it wouldn't go away like people said it probably would. Probably.

After a long while he resurfaces, laying his head back, gasping for air.]

[She can barely breathe where she's crumpled, curled up on the floor just trying to think past the searing throb along her side where she'd been in contact with him. This time it felt as though she'd been burned, it didn't fade as fast- if it would fade at all. As soon as she drags herself a few feet away the heat abates. The throbbing slows. Stills. Stops.]

...fuck.

[That had been the singularly most painful experience of her life that she can recall. Being shot wasn't so enduring. Bleeding out left her cold. That had been...

She'd rather not think about it anymore. Scrapes herself to her feet and resumes dragging ice from the kitchen to Rick's bathroom, filling the tub. It hurts to get close enough to throw it in, but. It's only ever for a few seconds. She shoves her hands under the cold tap water every time for some kind of relief. Pulls a chair in to sit several feet away, stripped down to her undershirt and sweating while he soaks in the tub. A small bowl of ice and water full of rags for her. Him. Whoever needs them.]

...has this. Helped?

[He just nods, eyes closed. He's momentarily given up on everything. Luceti could be exploding in on itself and he'd be here, eyes closed, having entirely given up for the next few minutes. He runs his hand over his hair once, goes back to closed eyes and a quiet break. He sucks in a breath like he's about to say something, searches the ceiling with his gaze, and then closes his mouth.

He's quiet again for a little while. Just a little while.]

Sorry. It's not right... to, uh. [Clears his throat.] Feel that.

Feel as though I'm burning alive? No. I will take my fate back home of being shot and bleeding out in a hall over experiencing that again, or in truth, any day.

[It's low, rough, and exhausted. The bathroom wasn't so large that she could be a comfortable distance. Far enough she didn't feel rubbed raw, cracked open, and boiling, but. Not comfortable by any means. After a moment spent dripping and miserable in her chair she grabs one of the rags in the bowl of ice water and drapes it over the back of her neck.

There's a long moment before it registers as to what she's let slip. For a second she's tense. Quiet. He didn't need to know. She hadn't meant to tell him. This passes, and. Well. It doesn't mater, not really.]

Not your fault, Rick. I shouldn't have gotten so close. And the Malnosso should not be such bastards.

... Getting shot. I'll take it, too; better than most of the ways someone can get their asses killed, right? Getting crushed under a bus, for example.

[He just smiles at her faintly, nearly entirely submerged in this momentary relief.]

It'll... pass sooner or later. I'll see what happens when I get to that. Though, sedation sounds really nice. Unless you trick me into being high as a kite for some journal recordings.

Mercury poisoning is equally nasty. Not something that is a large problem anymore but I have seen it once and the resulting autopsy was...something out of a horror film.

[She shakes her head, squeezes a measure of the icy water down her back.]

If you like, I'll arrange it. It won't take much, or long. Just a bed, a few extra lines so I can keep your IV sustained without standing right next to you. [A beat.] Damn. You have uncovered my nefarious plot to have you make an ass of yourself for my personal amusement.

...

I'll think about it. I don't know if I'm ready to have you make an even bigger ass out of me than I could be.

You would do it all on your own Rick. It takes terribly little prompting for anyone to act the fool when on medication.

... but that's not good. Don't I act like a fool without the meds?

Sometimes. It's almost adorable, but you act the fool no more than anyone else in the village.

Edited 2012-07-03 17:44 (UTC)

Ha ha. That supposed to be a good thing, or a bad thing?

It's a good thing, Rick. You're more often sarcastic or oddly charming than you are the fool.

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