[log] Day 046 | Silence in the School Yard [closed]

[rubikscomplex]

Characters: Clayton, Dio, House, Miranda, Ellana, Dorian, Beckett, and Brian.
Location Building 29 (aka the Party Shed).
Date: Day 46, evening, probably after lockdown.
Summary: There are a lot of people packed into an equipment shed. There's bound to be friction. Or maybe they'll get along. Sing Kumbaya... Yeah, that's probably not happening.
Warnings: Gross mold lungs, House being his general insensitive self, and so forth. Please note specific warnings in the headers!

[The shed is really not meant for eight full-sized adults. It is meant event less for eight full-sized adults who have only met for the first time that day or even just that week. It's close quarters tonight, but at least the equipment shed has some minor forms of entertainment. There are hurdles, various sports balls, giant mats to potentially sleep on, and the like. Of course, if you make any noise, everyone in the place will be aware of it. Better mind your manners.

Or not. That's always entertaining, and after a day of near absolute silence in the school, most everyone is probably starved for at least a little noise. Something other than that weird piano music coming from more than one piano. One good thing to come of all of this is that they are well stocked up on food. It's a veritable bounty!]

((OOC: This is a mingle style post. Put up a top-level and tag around to others!))

Comments

[rubikscomplex]

[House pulls a face, but is otherwise indifferent to Beckett's suffering.]

Well, doc, I'll leave playing nurse to you. And nice going, Count Dracula. You ralphed and now everyone's going to be smelling it for the rest of the night.

[Without further comment, House turns and limps away from the pair and over to his backpack and un-vomited-in corner. He rummages for a moment, then comes out with a full roll of paper towels.]

Epps! Catch. Make sure you wrap it up in a bag or something for the spiders when you're done mopping.

[He'll wait for Clayton's attention before tossing the roll over to him.]

[dr_unconscious]

[So that could have turned out better. Clayton stands as soon as Beckett does, at first to give him some room to move if he desperately needed it, but later so he can side-step what was on its way to being a mess all over his cherished snow boots. He hisses in sympathy and is already moving in to help as soon as it looks like Beckett's done heaving.]

Alright, alright, that's fine...jus' sit down fer a bit 'til I clean this up, bud. I'll get you some water.

[Clayton would advise him to lie down instead, but the area he could have done that in is now compromised. He grimaces, realizing that all he has to clean with is some dish soap and a couple towels that he'll never be able to use again after this, and is just about to reach down and pull one out of his boot when House gets his attention.]

Hmm--? [He turns with his arms already out to catch the offered roll of paper towels, apparently on instinct, and captures them cleanly when House gets around to throwing them.] --Yeah, thanks. Wouldn't want you t' strain nothin'...

[The puke really doesn't seem to bother him at all. Clayton's lying out the paper towels with the toe of his boot primarily so he can focus on putting away the cough syrup and switching it out for a bottle of water. He keeps it captive until Beckett cooperates and sits down again.]

[bookofnope]

[It's a moment before Beckett can adequately focus on anything besides cold shock and nausea. He half staggers against the wall, catching himself by instinct rather than going to his knees or worse. He registers that House is still taunting him, but can't rise to it anymore, doesn't care - it has now firmly sunk in that he has other concerns. Namely the real possibility of death. Final death.

He's afraid. It's very sudden, and leaves little room for other feelings.]

No - leave it, let me - I'll do it. [He tries to pull at Clayton's arm and get him away from the exceptionally unpleasant business of cleanup. He doesn't sound guilty or embarrassed, just - set. Others shouldn't clean up his messes, literal or figurative. He must stick to that, at least, because it's all he can do. With the rest, he will clearly have to trust others. Trust them. And the thought chokes him almost as much as the illness.]

All right. You were right. [He talks to both of them. His voice has gone quiet. Not hissing, just a very tightly drawn restraint. It's sadly obvious that he still wants nothing so much as to bolt, like a wild animal cornered when in pain.] I'm sick. I don't know what to do about it. I would - rather not die. Not like this.

[rubikscomplex]

[House rolls his eyes at Beckett suddenly diving to clean up his own vomit.]

Well, first, leave the mopping to somebody with a stronger stomach. Second, just listen to Epps, you idiot.

[dr_unconscious]

[Bless House. Clayton does his best not to give him more credit than he deserves for that remark, even though he quietly hopes that the harshness coupled with his persistent attempts to press on Beckett's shoulder will get him to actually sit down like he needs to.]

It's alright, man, I got it. It's alright. You ain't gonna die, not if I can help it. Jus' settle down.