vor | Sixth Cream Cake: [Written/Action]

[Filtered to Ivan Vorpatril, 65% unhackable because it's early and he's sick.]

Ivan,

Would you please look in on the horse for me? The Imperial Ass seems to be having trouble getting out of bed today, as the Imperial Sniffles have turned into the Imperial Plague. We apologize for Our impending death and your impending resulting frustrations.

Regretfully,

Gregor

P.S. If this letter caused you alarm, please give yourself a refresher course in detecting the Imperial Sarcasm.

[/Filtered]

[Gregor is sick as a dog. Apartments adjacent to his have probably heard violent, deep, chesty coughing for about two weeks now. Ordinarily, he'd have on-site approved physicians checking him out and prescribing whatever antibiotic was necessary, but here, he has to actually go seek out help. So. To the Battle Dome clinic he goes, looking specifically to see Adele LeBlanc when she's in. He will wait for her, if necessary.

Afterwards, he's going to the library, then the bakery for coffee and something sweet. Anyone stopping in can see him sitting inside, devouring a psychology textbook and sipping coffee, the cream cakes reduced to crumbs. They are the only thing he has eaten all day. He is not looking great, occasionally falling into bad coughing fits, for which he ducks outside, but recovering fairly quickly. When he heads home, he goes straight to bed despite his plans to work out. And the fact that it's the middle of the day.]

[Filtered to Phoenix Ikki 79%]

PI--

I suppose we're supposed to be pen pals, whatever that entails. I hope you're adjusting to the village well.

--GB

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Not contagious. [He assumes, anyway, that that's what worries her. Besides, she's sort of stepping on his self-consciousness. Wheeze.] Sorry. [Cough.]

[It's a fair bit of it, yes. And Amelia's not entirely willing to just trust his word on it.]

You should still be in bed. You sound awful.

Thank you. [Only a handful can detect irritation in him.] I've been in bed most of the day.

[Amelia said the same thing herself, this past winter when she had gotten sick. Except it was much easier to tell she was annoyed in her case.]

Most of the day isn't over yet. And you'd be better off going to a doctor instead of the bakery.

I did. It's how I know it's not contagious. [He coughs hard a few times into the crook of his elbow.]

And the doctor didn't tell you to rest?

[Amelia frowns when he coughs again, then glances into one of the windows.] Do you at least have something to drink in there?

[He waves that away with a little flick of his fingers.]

I do. Would you like to split a cream cake with me? My name is Greg, by the way.

[Maybe it'll be the fastest way to get her to realize they're complete strangers and this is inappropriate behavior.]

I'll take that to mean they did.

[Sorry Greg. Amelia doesn't drop things easily. She crosses her arms over her chest, then nods toward the door.]

Amelia. Which table is yours?

[Clearing his throat, he beckons her inside and begins to walk her to his table.]

[Amelia follows him in, and over to his table. She isn't there for pastry, however, and once they get there she immediately pushes Greg's drink toward him.]

If you went to the doctor, then you'll have medicine. Which you should take, if you haven't already.

I have. [Gregor takes a sip of coffee and sits down.] Like most medicine, it takes time to work.

All the more reason for you to be wherever you live instead of here.

[She pulls out the chair across from him, dropping down in it.]

So is there any particular reason you're being an idiot, or just general stubbornness?

It's bronchitis. I'm not dying. [Another sip, a nod, and he goes to get two cream cakes. When he returns, he sets one down in front of her.] Is there any reason you're taking it personally?

Edited Date: 2012-08-15 09:46 pm (UTC)

[The quip makes her frown, when Greg so easily says he isn't dying. Before she can reply, however, he's off getting her a desert, and she shakes her head when he comes back.]

I'm not actually here for a cream cake. [Although she'll take it back to the house so it doesn't go to waste.]

You're not helping yourself get any better, either.

[She can ignore his questions just as well as he can hers.]

After this, I'm going to go home and get some sleep. Frankly, if I didn't venture outside, I was going to go insane sooner or later.

[Amelia's quiet for a moment after that; it's hard to put up a front of righteous indignation when she's had those same exact thoughts herself.]

How long have you been sick?

[A light cough into his hand.] Why do you ask?

I'm trying to figure out how stupid you're being.

[A glint appears in his eye.] That is, as always, a secret.

[That answer gets a flat look.]

Not much of a secret when you end up outside a public place hacking up a lung.

Wouldn't inside a public place be even worse? Not to mention my intelligence has no bearing on my immune system.

And inside your own house would be better. It's not about your immune system; it's about taking care of yourself. You're not, and if you don't have a good reason, you're being very stupid.

[There's a certain brand of logic there. Honest.]

Last winter I got sick. I was stuck inside for too long, and I got that same feeling like I was going nuts. So if you've been sick and inside for awhile, then that's one thing. If it's only been a couple of days, then you don't have a good reason, and you're being incredibly dumb.

You're not taking into account any number of phobias that might be acquired before sickness. Either way, we just met. My level of intelligence shouldn't be that important to you.