mental link | morning of day :039

[perroquet]

[ The ever present mental music that plays from the bard's end of the connection grows invasively louder sometime after breakfast, and it is rather anxious. The morning has been heavy enough already with packing getting underway, but this is due to something different. While the music in him is clear as ever, his thoughts stumble across the connection sloppily and desperately. ]

( I require a detective... I think. Oh dear, this is quite dire… )

[ He knows of several, but with the situation being as dire as he claims, well... he may need as much help as possible. All hands on deck. ]

( I believe someone has discovered that I am not Carbauschian, and... has poisoned me. )

[ The pauses between coherent thought are more than a bit dramatic, but he's being quite serious. ]

Comments

[perroquet]

[ If he had the first clue as to what "off-broadway" means, you'd be in for a lecture boy. Instead he gets a rather deflated: ]

( What a cruel thing to say to someone in pain, Bakugo. Unbecoming of a hero. )

[incinerates]

[ wow!! you're not his teacher!! ]

If the truth hurts worse than you're feeling, isn't that a good thing.

Don't we have someone able to give you, like, a patch job? It can't really be the end of the world, even if you are poisoned.

[perroquet]

( Yes - I am a healer.

I've patched myself up best I can, but my spells can only delay poison. There are limits. )

[ So he's going to dramatically suffer for as long as possible, basically. Gildor has been within the Nest long enough to know how to keep pain from leaking across the connection and he's holding it back now for Bakugo's sake, but he's certainly not holding back the woe. ]

[incinerates]

You don't think this has to do with how much you drank the other night?

[ it's been a few days but like

HE'S never been so drunk that he puked in the barracks before, so who knows how long it takes to work past a bad hangover on alien booze?? ]

[perroquet]

[ One of the cellos playing in the back of his mind stops. The sound of a string snapping reverberates through the connection. ]

( That was... what, two nights ago? I've barely had as much since then. )

[incinerates]

It was a lot, and you PUKED.

[ Oh. He doesn't like that the music stopped, so quickly and so sharply. ]

You could still have a hangover, or something. I doubt you've been drinking enough or getting any sun, under all those layers.

[perroquet]

( Well yes, purging helps when one's had too much. ) [ Which he's also done twice already this morning, thanks Rust. Please don't make him do it again. ]

( But as I have said I know my hangovers, and this is no hangover. I do agree some sunlight and fresh air would do us all good, we mustn't at the risk of the mission. )

[ Who is taking care of who here? ]

[incinerates]

Do you know them? Do you really? 'Cause you sure acted like you knew how much you were drinking, right up until you passed the fuck out.

[ Nag nag nag. It's a natural state for him to enter, when dealing with people and their vices. ]

I'm just saying. But if you're really poisoned, we'll fix it.

[perroquet]

( I knew how much I was drinking that night, Bakugo.

Enough to forget. )

[ The invisible musicians in his head slip on a note again and stop silent. He's irritated, but measuring it out carefully. He doesn't want annoyance or the pain he's in to dictate his responses - not to Bakugo.

But he's still a dramatic moron. He heaves a sigh from where he lies in the barracks, others packing to go around him. ]

( If not poison, then perhaps someone slipped something into my breakfast... I haven't been this sick since the time I accidentally ate something cooked in meat grease. )

[incinerates]

How're you supposed to get a handle on anything if you just forget it? That sounds like a temporary solution to a longstanding problem.

[ This boy is like, a new-age teetotaler and just about as egotistic as one. Even if, at his core, it's because he's worried for Gildor. He shows it in funny ways, is all. ]

You're... allergic to meat?