(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

[birdsbirdsbirds]

You've been sleeping an awful lot...

[after another pointed sip of tea:]

You're off the hook for now, since you're not feeling well.

[payback]

What would I even be on the hook for? [Vaguely irritable.] It's not a crime.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

It's not good for you. You'll get all... squishy.

[which is strangely the least offensive thing he could come up with.]

[payback]

[It's true in a way and she knows it. The more she sleeps the more she wants to sleep and the less awake she feels even when she is awake... but she's still not all that amenable to concern, unfortunately.]

Who cares? Nothing is happening.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

I care.

[but what does he know about being depressed and sleeping all the time? oh, wait.]

But seriously, I'd love to have this argument with you, but only after we're both feeling better.

[payback]

[They're not going to have the argument because Robin can suck it, but...]

Sure. [Actual eyeroll and she sips her tea :/]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

I hope you sleep well.

[smiles blandly at her.]

[payback]

[She'd give him the finger if it was worth her time. Instead she just walks off.]