(no subject)

[parkinglotangel]

Who: Michael, Robin, Riku, and Rin
Broadcast: No
Action: Aboard the Bloodsport
When: Today -> until the plague is cured?

[After centuries of existence, having seen atrocities and having battled devils, including Satan himself, Michael has never felt anything quite like this.

Namely, being totally, utterly, helplessly sick. And much like many of the not-entirely mortal on the fleet, the angel has absolutely no idea how to deal with this admittedly novel experience. As the plague worsened, he's given up his usual cheerful attitude and any pretense of functioning.

Probably much to the chagrin of his healthier crewmates.

For now the miserable angel can be found slumped facedown over the arm of his couch, moaning dramatically into the upholstery. He'll be sure to moan extra loud if someone not sick happens to pass by.]

Comments

for michael

[payback]

[She's feeling like shit but bearing up well... honestly, maybe because she spends so much of her life on ship firmly sleeping as much as possible? She does get up to eat and drink tea, and sometimes stares out the fore windows at the stars.

Now she stops to stare at Michael. Not overly sympathetic, but just kind of considering his plight.]

You'll feel better if you drink some hot tea.

[parkinglotangel]

[He knows how to deal with flesh wounds and normal injuries. This is something he can't see and can't physically wrestle into submission, so he's at a loss.

He blinks at her, tugging his jacket at he's currently using as a blanket a bit tighter around himself]

Tea? Do we...have any tea?

[payback]

We have... tea from the drinks machine, and we also have a microwave. [She pauses, and then she laughs.]

So we have tea-flavored water which you can drink hot or cold, yes.

[parkinglotangel]

[Tea doesn't sound as fun as booze. Did he bring any of that with him from the planet? He can't remember.]

I can't see how that would help.

[payback]

It helps to drink hot things. [She shrugs.]

You can make some with me.

[parkinglotangel]

You mean I have to get up?

[payback]

Yes. I'm sick, and I'm still up. You can be up too.

[parkinglotangel]

But mooooooom [There's a wry smirk in that whine, of course.]

[payback]

[She smirks a little bit, and then folds her arms, staring pointedly at him and tapping her foot.]

[parkinglotangel]

[Michael sighs and then heaves himself off the couch in what feels like a monumental surge of physical effort, and actually takes the form of him rolling onto the floor in an ungainly heap of rustling feather, then pushing himself into standing.]

If I fall down, I blame you...

[payback]

[She just stands there and watches this seriously as it happens.]

I'm sick too, and I'm not falling, and you're stronger than me in the first place, so if I'm sick and not falling, you shouldn't.

[After that little spiel she sets off for the kitchen. Teatime.]

[parkinglotangel]

You've been sick before...

[He's whining, but he's following, though he's half leaning on the walls to do it]

[payback]

[Oh come now Michael, it can't be that bad, can it? She stops for a moment for him to catch up, and so she can pat him briskly on the arm.]

Well, welcome to being human. A little part of it, at least.