snowblindrpg | [network] @hotstud_xxx; Day 314; audio [open] (cw: there may be graphic discussion of illness)

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[network] @hotstud_xxx; Day 314; audio [open] (cw: there may be graphic discussion of illness)

[This is Christmas. House's idea of Christmas, anyway. Sudden onset of deadly illnesses with disjointed and impossible progression of symptoms, and him not affected? Christmas! Someone out there loves him. Granted, he might not be able to help anyone get better and that's lame, but answers. Answers are something he is particularly prepared to provide. House is also curious if there's some psychosomatic effect at work here that might let him influence people. He goes on audio for this, and someone sounds almost gleeful.]

Hello, sick people! Dr. House here. I am a board certified medical professional and tenured professor of diagnostics at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital in Princeton, New Jersey. I have a double specialty infectious disease and nephrology and head the only Department of Diagnostic Medicine in the world in my universe.

All that said... tell me what ails you, Snowhell. Details required. Pics if you need them. Allow me to diagnose you. This service is free of charge for today only! Or however long this whole thing lasts. I'll even prescribe you meds if they're relevant to your condition. Step right up, then! Don't be shy.

It should go without saying, but I am limited to identification and diagnosis of Earth-based diseases. So if you've got a different name in your universe for the measels, I'm still calling them the measels.

((OOC: While House is an ace diagnostician, I am very much not. It would be helpful for me if you could indicate the disease or diseases your character is suffering from for the event or indicate that the constellation of symptoms was pulled at random/non-Earth-based.))

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Urgh. Yeah. You and Mark Twain.

[It's the best he can manage by way of agreement. He might be on a fast ticket there.]

Back and shoulders are the worst. Haven't been coughing that much. Stomach hurts, too. Not throwing up, but can't eat.

[Which he punctuates with another wracking fit of coughing, spitting into a wad of toilet paper. Some of it's bright and fresh, some of it's not.]

Stabbing pains or aching?

[He has a notion about what he thinks it is, but he'd like to mentally rule out a few other things first.]

Aches. Bad. But stabs when it gets worse. When I cough. Right through my back.

This is the point where I'd say I wanna stick you in a CT scanner. Barring that, you've got an oncologist with you. Either of you got a magnifying glass? He might be able to take a look at some of the stuff you're coughing up, look for anything fun in it. More than just blood and phlegm.

You're with an oncologist.

That's an answer in itself, and Rhys puts his head down again. He'll die or he won't, just like anything that happens in this goddamn place.]

Save you the trouble. I know it's lung cancer. Probably picked up a little pneumonia just as a cherry on the cake. Smoked for fifteen years, three years of meth.

Just try not to be too happy about it?

And Wilson's not doing great. Trying to get him to rest.

A speed demon. That's cute.

I'm not happy about you people having illnesses, just to clarify. That sucks. And it's bullshit since I can't actually treat any of you. Diagnosing you is what makes me happy.

[House doesn't want to particularly talk about Wilson or the state he's in.]

And I'm talking to Wilson. Don't need an update.

Yeah. A real holy terror.

[He has to smile a little at the pun, even though it's the blackest sort of humor at this point. Drugs had not been his only addiction, at the time.

And okay. Puzzles. Something to do. He gets it. He sighs quietly, a sound that comes out with a hoarse rasp and starts another bout of coughing before he rights himself.]

Only thing we can do is take care of the symptoms. Either we'll live or we won't, right? This place isn't exactly subtle about its patterns.

[He pauses, voice dropping.]

...and I'm keeping an eye on 'em, best I can.

[Regarding Ecks and Wilson. As little as he can do with them...at least he's with them. For what it matters.]

You'll live as long as no one kills you. You'll just wish you were dead.

[Like right now. He expects a lot of people wish they were dead right now.]

Wilson's gonna be keeping an eye on you, so have fun eyeing each other up, you crazy kids. Just remember face guards if you're planning on existing in proximity. The whole coughing blood's a major boner-killer, so get out ahead of that.

Mnh.

[He remembers the acute radiation sickness: he can play this game just fine. Fuck this please so much, though.]

Gotta keep an eye on him. He steals all the blankets if I don't.

[It hurts a little that Wilson is with someone else and not him, but House does his best to just ignore that for the moment.]

You know the best tactic for that is to just cuddle up closer.

[You were the one that kicked everyone out so you could play with serial killers, House.

Suffer.]

It's an ongoing war with many weapons to be brought to bear.

[He kicked everyone out so the serial killers wouldn't target them, thank you!]

Godspeed, Private Ryan.

[It's so darling that you think Rhys hasn't dealt with serial killers before, House. In his world, the serial killers can do things like shapeshift, control your mind, and grow back missing limbs.]

I'll send you a message from the front lines in anything comes to mind. Or if there's wedding bells, I'll make sure you get the first invitation.

[And because he's tired and there's nothing more useful to add to this conversation, he'll hang up before he starts coughing again.]

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