ic inbox

[headjacked]

Heyyyyyyyy, kiddo, you've reached me. Me who is Rhys. Anyway, not sure why you're trying to get in contact with the king of the dweebs, but I'm sure you've got your reasons. Reasons you should probably re-examine. I'm just sayin'.

Last chance to back out.

No?

Don't say I didn't warn ya.

Comments

[headjacked]

--oh, you didn't...?

It, uh. It was awhile ago. They healed, so no big. Yours aren't quite there yet, so focus, mmkay??

[plundering]

[She smirks.]

Focus on what? The fact that you manage to hurt yourself more than anyone I've ever met in my life?

[headjacked]

People unfairly -- unjustly!! ---hurt me. There is a huge difference.

[plundering]

[Rhys. Is that concern in Fiona's expression? Protectiveness, maybe?]

Who hurt you that time?

[headjacked]

[ Mmm, yeah, that's pretty readable. He's pretty sure her Concern would melt away if she knew, though. So. ]

The details are kindasortafuzzy--

[ COUGH ]

[plundering]

"Kinda sorta."

[She is so not buying it.]

[headjacked]

Can you maybe just pleeeeease accept that? We're supposed to be talking about YOUR ribs. Not mine!

[plundering]

Yeah, yeah, okay.

[She's really not looking to argue with him, anyway.]

Let's talk about my ribs. It's a pretty complicated topic.

[headjacked]

Bad ribs could mean pneumonia, you know.

[plundering]

Aww, Rhys. Are you worried about me?

[headjacked]

It's almost like I like you or something.

[plundering]

[She snorts.]

It'd be weird being friends with someone you don't like.

[headjacked]

Hey, you were the one making it sound like the act of being WORRIED about a FRIEND --

[ The F Word. He beams, just a little. ]

-- is weird!

[plundering]

I broke my ribs, Rhys, I'm not dying.

[She smiles back despite herself.]

But I've got it. Deep breaths, John said. No pneumonia.

@jwatson; audio; Day 134

[jumpthegun]

Hey, Rhys? How're you, Angel, and Beckett doing? Wanted to let you know Fiona, Haurchefant, and I are heading over toward the tunnel Kesara dug. Meeting up to get Ecks some real food. Did you lot make it downtown?

[headjacked]

Oh, let me worry, Tough Girl. Angel never does. I can't let all the worry build up, I might, like. Explode or something one day. And nobody wants that.

[headjacked]

Dr. John, hey...! J-just the man I want to see. Hear. Whatever.

Everyone's fine, and we met up with Beckett, and Broken Keyboard and his dog girl friend. We made p-p... p-pancakes.

[ If John thinks Rhys sounds awful, well. he is absolutely correct. ]

[plundering]

Ugh, gross.

[She wrinkles her nose, but her tone is still teasing.]

You gonna wrap me in a bunch of pillows and carry me through the snow or something?

[jumpthegun]

[ Concerned doctor mode engaged. He keeps his tone fairly light, though. ]

Just John'll work, mate! Feel like I ought to have a daytime television show getting called Dr. John.

[ It does take him a few seconds to figure out who 'Broken Keyboard and his dog girlfriend' are. ]

Pancakes sound lovely, though. Any reason they might not be? Sounds like there might be some trouble, Rhys. What is it?

cw barfies

[headjacked]

They were lovely going down. N-not so much coming back up.

[ Y e p ]

[headjacked]

Sometimes it's nice to be coddled. Just a little. I don't have a billion pillows but when we meet up again I can set you up with blankets.

A fort of your very own. The Money Fort.

[plundering]

With no actual money inside, I bet. Did you clear this with John? Is this an accepted treatment for my injuries?

[jumpthegun]

Rhys. [Do you remember what your exasperated father used to sound like, Rhys? It's probably a lot like this tone.] How many pancakes have you been eating? You need to eat things apart from sweets. I know it feels better, but you need to think about what's going to make you sick.

[not here]

[phaseshifter]

[ audible in the background: ]

DON'T TELL HIM HOW TO LIVE HIS LIFE

[headjacked]

You can't blame the pancakes, D-- John, it wasn't their fault! En-entirely.





I eat other things.