snowblindrpg | [log] fuck [closed]

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[log] fuck [closed]

Characters: Alfie Solomons, Emily Kaldwin, Gregory House, John Watson, Royce Melborn, Tifa Lockhart
Location: building 120 and building 101
Date: evening of 190 to morning of 192
Summary: when you see "House" and "Royce" in the same log you know it's gonna be a party
Warnings: ear removal

Catch-all for EVERYTHING - death, murder, torture, yelling, etc. Top-level and tag as you see fit.

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[Strangely, she seems unbothered by the insult. It's probably because she knows she's starving, so there's no way she can be fatter. She'd blow away with a gentle wind.] I didn't feel very well. I didn't do some nice things. They might not do some nice things, and then everyone will be scared again.

But I still don't like you very much.

I'm not afraid of them. [He's absolutely terrified of them.]

Shouldn't you be eating dinner or something? [He makes the smallest shooing motion with his hand as he moves toward the kitchen. Her skeletal appearance is actually concerning. What the hell are they doing with this kid? Probably should yell at Tifa.]

You said I was fatter. [She watches him move for the kitchen. She follows, but only slightly and at a distance. She stands near the door, still watching.]

There's not a lot to eat. The Cheetos taste funny. I had peanut butter, but that was before, with Peter. We ate a lot of it.

Then I ate the rest with Royce with apples. But that was a few days ago.

And fat little boys and girls are always hungry. [House's food is coming from other people and includes a mix of school and convenience store food. He sets his pack down and pulls out a plastic bag filled with chicken nuggets, along with the caramel apple bits he'd gotten from Clint. It's a moment before he tosses them to the end of the table.]

Take those. I'm not hungry.

[She can probably get two solid days of protein for meals out of the nuggets, at least.]

[For a moment, she doesn't move, like she thinks they might be snatched away and the going will be for nothing. Finally, she eases to the end of the table and peers at what House had thrown.

The apples are familiar.] Those are like the apples Royce had. He said people here always ate "convenient" food. [But the nuggets... She presses a finger gently into one or two of them through the bag, testing.] What are these?

Convenience. It's a convenience store where he got the food.

They're processed chicken--meat. Eat them. They won't kill you, and they're what you need to put some weight back on.

They don't look like a chicken. [Or like eggs either.] Are these baby chickens? Do people here eat baby chickens? [These are baby chickens, right?

She takes one carefully out of the bag and smells it. Not much of a smell. A little like chicken. She takes a bite, small. It doesn't taste like the chicken she's use to in Dunwall, naturally, but tries the rest regardless.

It doesn't matter. She's hungry enough that it'll do. And it's not funny tasting Cheetos. She looks from the bag to House like she might be scolded for eating more.]

[House gives her a flat look.]

Processed chicken, kid. They grind it up and turn it into shapes and fry it. Eat however much you want. I told you I'm not hungry.

[A baby chicken.]

Oh. The cooks in the kitchen would do that with other meats. They have a metal funnel and a turning handle, and you put the meat in, and it comes out in strings on the other side. [Fuck it. She has another chicken nugget. She has half of another one, then puts it back in the bag with the remaining nuggets and carefully, gently seals it back up.]

Did you want the rest back?

No. Keep it.

[He's going to be dying soon, anyway. It's not like it will matter.]

And go somewhere else.

Okay. But I have two things to ask you first. [She takes up the baggy, but doesn't move to leave or advance. For a moment or so, she's quiet and thoughtful.]

If all the doctors could make something that made people feel better, like Mister Sokolov's elixir, would you help them do it?

[He eyes her.]

Depends on what's required to make it. And what the cost is.

Okay. Mister Sokolov and Mister Piero each made an elixir to cure the rat plague, but neither of them worked well. They didn't like each other very much. [She fiddles with the edges of the baggy.]

But finally, they decided to work together, so they mixed them, and then they helped cure the rat plague. So I thought... if all the doctors work together, maybe you can make something that helps people not be sick anymore. Like when I hurt all over.

I thought you wouldn't work with the other doctors, though, because you're grumpy. Miss Claire said Mister Watson would, but she didn't know if you would help either.

Temple doesn't know me. I'm the head of a team back home and work at a teaching hospital. She's got a decent idea, I'll help. She doesn't, I'll tell her why it's stupid. Teamwork.

[The first entry under "asshole" in the dictionary would, in fact, be, "Gregory House, MD."] Okay. [Even Emily understands that's about as much as she's going to get out of House.]

The other question is... [She looks up with just her eyes.] If I wanted to go to sleep for a long time, what does that mean?

That is an incredibly non-specific symptom. How much sleep have you been getting?

I sleep okay. Mister Alfie doesn't feel well, so we stop a lot, and he sleeps, and I sleep with him because I'm tired.

But not tired like before, like I'm sleepy. Just tired.

I thought... maybe it would be better if I slept for a long time because bad things happen all the time here. But Mister Alfie seemed upset when I told him, and Royce said they would be sad if I slept forever.

[Oh. That kind of sleep. Jesus Christ, this place.]

You're depressed. You need therapy and medication. I can give you one. You'll have to ask your surrogate parents for the rest.

Okay. [Though none of that means a lick to her exactly. She doesn't think she's ever been depressed, and therefore doesn't know what it means. (She has been, though, when he mother passed, when she was alone at the Golden Cat surrounded by people, when she was the only child at the Hound Pits, when she was locked in Havelock's room.)

Therapy is strangely not something afforded even to empresses.] Will the medicine make me not want to sleep forever?

Depends if this is regular depression or MN-induced depression. One's more actually treatable than the other. And the medicine will regulate you and let you deal with them. The urges don't go away.

[One might get the impression he's speaking from personal experience.]

[Quietly, she thinks about this for a while, still fiddling gently with the baggy.]

I think I would like some medicine, but...

Having medicine sounds bad. What if people think I have something strange and they'll catch it? What if... people don't want to talk to me anymore because they think I'm sick?

They already know you're sick. And you're a little kid. They'll just want you getting help. No one cares if you take medicine.

Okay. [She's trusting you as a doctor, House!] Will you help me get some medicine?

[He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.]

Fine. I'll put in a script if you go away. You need to talk to whoever, though, kid. The meds aren't enough.

I'll talk to Miss Tifa. [She won't, BUT, listen... She'll draw a lot instead. That's theraputic enough, right?] I wouldn't stay in the kitchen. Mister Alfie always checks on everything.

There's a room at the very top if you want. There's two other rooms, too.

[And with that said, she'll go without much fuss for once.]

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