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The Not Funnest Place On Earth

Tommy was so far incredibly unimpressed with his accommodations. He barely even remembered how he ended up in the infirmary bed, his memories a jumbled mess of conscious and semiconscious. He remembered Nora, and Evan, and some other fellow. He somewhat recalled trying to convince them all that he was fine, and did not need help. He was pretty sure at some point he collapsed (again) and well....maybe he had gotten up again after that, or maybe he had not.

In the end, he had just ended up stuck in a hospital gown in a small white cot in the infirmary, exactly where he didn't want to be, but for a time quite sedated so he really had no will in him to complain, or to do anything else. Shapes and voices blurred around him, his head buzzed pleasantly, and for a time, he slept.

It was when he awoke that he was unhappy. Even more so when he tried to speak to whoever was in the bed on the other side of the curtain from him and was told by one of the doctors currently on shift that he was not to disturb whoever it was, under any circumstances.

All hooked up to tubes and machines as he was for the moment, all Tommy could really do was huff in agitation, chat to the weapon in his head who had returned but still had not even an ounce of desire to converse with him, and pick idly away at the bandages on his arms.

Eventually, he managed to wheedle a nurse into giving him his phone, and twitter was something new to occupy his mind before that too grew boring.

Ah, this one was new! At least, Tommy did not remember seeing him around before (maybe he had once, in a drug haze, but he did not think so). He would have lifted up a hand to wave in greeting, but due to his recent exploits around the infirmary, sneaking out of his bed to visit other patients (removing his IV and everything else necessary to do so). his wrists had been tied to the sides of the bed with restraints likely meant for people having a mental breakdown.

It was actually sort of cute, that they thought these would keep him there. If he really wanted to, he could have himself freed within seconds.

"Oh yes, everything is just wonderful, doctor!" He grinned, his eyes rather bright.

"It is quite normal for my urine to be black, I hear, at least, so there really is no cause for concern,I believe!"

Thank you, Horace.

This Ain't Chik-Fil-A

Oliver had gotten used to his isolation, and despite having friendly people on the other side of the curtain, he maintained it in an apathetic, drug-addled way. In between sleep and bouts of remorse he listened to Tommy's attempts to wander, and visitors with their well-wishes, and even when time for his own checkups arrived he endured it silently.

So when he heard the curtains pushed back he opened his sleepy eyes, and then his mouth fell open.

"H-Horace... I-I.. um..." Oliver stammered, his usual reaction made worse by the medicated fog in his mind. Immediately his eyes began to tear up, and he nervously scratched at the cast on his wrist. This was not good, he was not ready... "I-I'm s-so sorry...." He whimpered.

This Ain't Chik-Fil-A

From the other side of the curtain, hidden away from both Oliver and Horace, came a loud gasp, and then a shout.

"OLIVER IS OVER THERE????? HIIIIIII OLLLIVERRRRR!"

Swiper No Swiping


Arorangi just beamed.

"Good morning, little bird," he said brightly. "How are you feeling?"

Swiper No Swiping


Arorangi just gave Oliver a smiling look and said nothing at all.

A look that clearly said he was going nowhere.

But his expression softened when he saw Oliver's face crumple, and Arorangi shifted closer to the bed, reaching over towards him to lay a light hand on his shoulder.

"What is wrong, little bird?" he asked gently.

Matt made a face at Tommy; it was one that the brow was raised and oblivious to what was going. Whatever the joke about black urine was he had missed entirely or had never been let in on the secret but that was ok he missed a lot at Deus. Flipping through a few papers in Tommy’s files he shrugged and then scribbled something down underneath a set of neat notes left by another nurse.

“I’m sure it’s probably nothing serious either, I mean it could mean your dying but most people dying in extreme pain aren’t usually so chipper so going with something you ate. Anything else?”

Looking over at the curtain he didn’t recognize the one voice belonging to someone named Oliver (his was the next chart) the other he did. There was a small feeling of just completely leaving and coming back later when the entire guest party had evaporated.

This Ain't Chik-Fil-A

Oliver cringed, this was the last thing he wanted right then, to face one of the friends he had attacked while in that horrible, enraged state. It had been okay just keeping quiet so Tommy didn't have to know he was there, so he could avoid the questions and just sit in his shame corner until the end of time, but now Horace was right there in front of him and making no effort to leave.

He bit his lip, temporarily putting a hold on the tears. "F-for attacking you... I just... I-I'm so, so sorry..."