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 Posted: Sun Jul 16, 2017 9:11 am
It was morbid curiosity combined with the weird hilarious of his messages more than actual concern that led to America offering to get Lawrence's infirmary room during clean up duty. Plus he was pretty tidy and America knew sick people had a tendancy to be kinda gross and she wanted to avoid that. Arriving at his door in pink scrubs with clean sheets in hand, America sang out, "I'm here to fluff your pillows and stuff, Mr. Michaels! But no sponge baths!"
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Posted: Sun Jul 16, 2017 9:37 am
Lawrence was always very pernickety at best about how he presented himself, completely fixated on his appearance. Melvin and Rodney he could permit some degree of leeway on but everyone else needed to be kept at arm's length and shown only the perfectly groomed, perfectly healthy face he presented to the universe as a whole. He had to be perfect, it was the most important thing.
He'd been half dozing before America entered but when he realised who'd just walked in the door his stomach felt like it curled up even higher behind his ribs than usual and he was wide awake. He was positively scruffy looking, his hair unkempt and without the usual veneer of careful makeup to conceal the dark shadows under his eyes. He pulled the sheets up a little too in a subconscious scandalised response, more self concious about how old and small he looked than anyone else probably even cared to notice. "Do they let children work here?" he asked her accusingly.
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Posted: Sun Jul 16, 2017 9:59 am
"They have us do clean up work," she answered cheerfully. "Sheets and floors and bed pans! I'm gonna need you to get up for a bit so I can change your bed, though." Giving him a look over, the girl commented, " Getting pretty rugged, Mr. Michaels! Are you gonna turn all gilfy on us? Do you need help getting over to the chair?"
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Posted: Sun Jul 16, 2017 10:34 am
Lawrence tensed up visibly at the fact that she just had to bring up how horrid he looked. It was one of his most resented aspects of his genetics that rather than being a tall willowy and hairless elf creature he instead was born a very short stunted person who also happened to grow hair very quickly. His arms were getting prickly and he hated nothing more. He wanted to wrap himself in the bedsheet and slink out of the window but was far too drugged up and in pain for that. He'd probably fall and that would be worse.
Asking for help was also something he resented, but he also knew the last time he'd stood up he'd almost keeled over, still disoriented from everything. "I'm not rugged." he said, still a little slurred. "I'm just... I'm just... this is LUKES FAULT." and he gestured at all of him. His father had been the one who was a grizzled greying shipbuilder, his mother had been an angel, all blonde and perfection. It wasn't fair.
"I suppose." he said with a hazy resignation, extending his good hand like a princess expecting someone to kiss the back of it. It wasn't fair she was taller than him either.
"Though I warn you I am wearing one of those infernal gowns."
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Posted: Sun Jul 16, 2017 11:17 am
With a giggle, America took the hand and pulled, bringing it over her shoulder. "Don't worry, Mr. Michaels, I'm not gonna touch the butt."Guiding him over to the chair, she asked, " Whose Luke? Like your hairdresser?"
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Posted: Sun Jul 16, 2017 11:53 am
Everything was disorientation for a few long moments until he found himself in the chair, finding himself irritatingly winded by the experience.
"I should hope not." he said grouchily as he carefully placed the severed hand on the armrest. "Otherwise you'd have the whole island up in arms against me in an instant and I'd frankly rather not."
He sighed. "And no. Luke is my good for nothing father. His pathetic genetics are what made me like this."
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