( Her ears perk forward, then flopw down on either side of her head. She exhales, mouth opening enough for the sound of canine laughter to spill out and over. )
< You overextended. Okay, that's not such a big deal. it's like when you tear a muscle, or get a sprain. You need time for the swelling to go down and for healing to happen, that's all! The pain in your head was probably just that, a sign you were doing too much. Only you didn't know that, so you pushed harder, and you're dealing with the fall out. >
( By and large she sounds like she's laying it out for herself. She is; it makes it less something to be frightened of, more something to find amusing, in a certain sense. She lifts her head and swipes her tongue at his elbow, or wahtever part of his nearest arm's available. )
< Trust the ony guy with a girlfriend who can be a literal guide-dog around here to go blind learning a new trick with his weapon! You're one lucky guy, C! >
( Now she does laugh over Thought Speak, a liht, amused sensation, tied up in the worry and the sense of pervasive relief that follows not wondering is this forever and what kinds of concessions she will be needing to make. )
[ And while it is relieving to hear someone else agree with what the Initiative's doctor more or less said themselves, it still feels like they're all making too light of it. Vision loss may be temporary, he was told. What if it wasn't, in the end? ]
I'm revising what I said about the Weapons. They're accidents waiting to happen... I don't need a guide dog, I need to be able to read! Or manage the tablet! Or... what if everyone starts posting written only posts?
[ He's going to miss things. If they're important things, that's no good, no good at all. ]
( Strange how it feels when you're on the side with the unpleasant things happening. Collette presses her cold nose to his chest, breathing in deep. There's a silly sort of snuffling sound she makes as a consequence. She lets her tail wag, knowing that it's prone to thwacking in to anything in the area -- in this case, the floor, even Caesar's leg, if it's in reach. )
< I think you were right originally! It's scary until you know how to use them. You have to make it work for you, not against you, that's all! It's not easy, but what is? >
( His litany of worries are worries -- but she's seen, and heard, people handling this. And she knows it's hard as the person having reality change so drastically to have to think forward and adapt when they really don't want to. It isn't fair is an element behind it all -- but that was the thing. Life very rarely knew what human values of fair really were. )
< You have a good memory. I can help teach you by feel how to know where buttons are. We can set your tablet to read everything out loud! Break has that, Toph has it, the dragon here before had it. We can even pick a voice you can stand hearing! Or I can read things out loud, too, since I'm supposed to be reading a lot as it is. That way neither one of us misses out on things. >
( She settles back down, giving up on being pushy about his chest, letting her head settle in his lap while her paw comes off his leg and drops down to the floor. )
< We can walk you through the halls so you know where you are so good you can walk it half asleep. It takes some effort, but it's not like you're not willing when there's a reason. These are set-backs, C. Not ones we can't get by! >
( Her optimism pushes through at the end, where the rest has been about more reasonable mental tones, practical offers and suggestions, still underwritten with relief and a well tamped down concern. There's something else, warmer than all of that, tied up in what she says next. )
< You're not alone in the dark. You have me, and Lenalee, and Oz, if you want him. Steph and Saul, though who knows if it feels good or weird having a lawyer on your side! Nash, when he's stirred up to talk. All the people you're working with on these missions, they're listening to you because of your brain and the way you think, and that didn't get over tired for a while like your eyes have! What's that you told me the other day, your brain's always fresh and on? >
( Teasing; it hadn't been a truth, but she'd let it slide then, and she'd bring it around now as something light for him to refute or hold on to. )
< You'll be okay! >
( I love you, she adds for her own benefit. It doesn't feel guilty anymore when she thinks that. There was some peace to be had with deciding it was okay to be selfish in some ways. I love you, and you'll be okay. )
Couldn't you have taken on a less overjoyed animal form?
[ Because he can't entirely blame her upbeat take on this mess on her, not when he knows exactly how being in that particular form goes. Always happy, always. Still, it feels like she isn't taking this seriously! Even though she likely is.
He gingerly peels the damp towel off from where he'd been holding it down, over his eyes, and squints, though by instinct alone, since he was expecting sudden light. There is none. No light where light should be, only darkness, pitch black.
The hand still holding the towel trembles ever so slightly, his grip on the cloth tightening.
He wants to throw it across the room and yell and be upset, demand how this could happen, why, why? Sure, everyone else is trying to see some light at the end of the tunnel, but he can't! Literally!
But he doesn't do any of those things. Instead, after that short few seconds pass, his grip relaxes and he lets his arm, hand, and towel drop to hang limply over the side of the cot. His eyes close again. At least that's meant to be dark. ]
Of course. I'll be fine. [ Not really. ] Only... don't, okay? Don't tell anyone else. Not anyone who doesn't need to know about this, alright?
[ Lenalee, Oz, those two are unavoidable, obviously, but why would Steph or Saul or even Nash need to know? If he's going to be fine, it this is going to be temporary, he'll let it pass as a footnote not to be noticed. ]
< People find coyotes too threatening, > ( she jests, exhaling again into his shirt. She doesn't shift the pressure of her head in his lap, watching him with her eyes, listening with ears that perk up and twitch with every little movement. Her tail keeps thumping. Similar to when she was with Lenalee on the train back to Exsilium, she doesn't mind giving something familiar in the form of expected canine behavior.
The dog appreciated not being fought for the movement, something more about unease than happiness. Caesar might remember that, too. )
< I never would. > ( This comes out firm. ) < Not on stuff like this, unless it was important. Lenalee knows; Oz will soon. We might not have to work with this for long! I'm pointing out another fact, that's all. You're not alone, no matter what. >
( No matter if she disappeared tomorrow, like so many do, because out of the number of people he did know, at least one would still be around. And he wouldn't, absolutely wouldn't, be alone. )
< Still got a major headache, huh? I can smell that. Sorta! > ( Smell that he's in pain, from the change in chemical makeup or whatever it is informing her nose as she breathes in. ) < That's your first excuse for leaning on a fluffy creature thigh-high, if you don't want to borrow my chair or the spare for getting back to your room. The second one can be I'm getting clingy. >
( If he wants to say as much -- she lets her mental tone lighten, as if she were laughing, but not quite. )
[ Implying she wasn't before! But the joke, while it doesn't draw a laugh, does relax him just a bit, enough that he ventures to raise his other hand and carefully reach for the golden retriever's head.
At least, he hopes that's her head.
If not, he might end up patting her nose or... neck? Not that it makes too much difference. ]
They gave me something for the headache. I suppose now's the time to try and move somewhere else, before those kick in.
[ Because they warned him that they weren't the generic sort of painkiller. ]
( She closes the one eye his fingers get too close to, blinking under his fingers. )
< Before I wasn't literally dogging your every step! >
( Now she holds still, waiting for him to start standing, sticking to his side. )
< Okay, then back to your place before the drugs knock you out for a while. If you start to feel woozy, tell me! Can you keep a hand on me while we walk? I'll stick by your side either way. >
[ Though what about Lenalee? Did she leave? But it would make sense. Standing around awkwardly while he and Collette chatted... He wouldn't stick around, either.
He inhales deeply, as if preparing for some great effort, and sits up! Attempts to sit up. Makes it part way up but then gives up and flops back down onto the cot. His head swims from the attempt, only making the pounding that's already up there all the more worse.
The hand he'd put on her head leaves, shakily going press against his temple instead. ]
( Now she moves closer to his head, mouth open in canine laughter. She gives a slow lick to the hand at his temple. )
< Definitely not. Sleep off what you can, okay? I'll be here. Gotta hunt down something more comfortablel to be on, but hey, that's easier here than elsewhere! >
( Hunt down a chair in reality, just to borrow. If she's here more than four hours, she'll need to be able to make it to the bathrooms -- and not rely just on morphs. She's still not recovered enough to exhaust energy as freely as she did before June. (She hates that, but she accepts it. Pushing now means not having the ability to push later, at a time she might need it more.) )
< Do you want water? They don't have you on a saline drip... I can get you water after I demorph! >
( They've got the worst tag-team game of "who's in the hospital/clinic and who is watching over the one in the hospital/clinic, but it doesn't even occur to her to just leave. Nor to get her own chair -- she'd just need to have it returned again later, since she wasn't planning to roll out with him once he could walk. )
[ But she will anyway, because she's Collette and she'll metaphorically hover about like this. He wonders if it'll ever get tiring, how they keep switching off places like this. Who's injured, who's keeping watch, over and over again.
He sighs and eventually drags his hand down from his hand, though mostly to wipe the dog drool off on the sheet. ]
( She ignores the first, knowing he had to know this wasn't a matter of having to or not having to. What else was she going to do? She wants to stay, so she stays. Like she had before, and like she will again. It wouldn't be a lie to say she'd do so for all her friends... but it might be a lie to say that doing so for Caesar at this point wasn't different, in some way.
She's gone for ten minutes or so, demorphing and fanangling another chair. There's a promise to help with inventory later if she can stay, and that she'll keep out of the way, yes ma'am, no sir, as you will. Collette returns with a bottle of water, chatting as she comes. )
Ended up finding water bottles, we brought out a whole bunch for everyone. Did you want a straw? I grabbed one,, sometimes it's easier to suck than figure out swallowing. You awake, or did the meds finally send you on to sleepsville?
( All equally conversational. )
I can grab another few pillows to help you sit up if you like, or I can help. You're probably going to start feeling even floppier! What would you prefer to do?
( She asks at last, stopped by the level of his chest and shoulders. She doesn't reach out to him. Collette plans to tell him before she actually does that, though she wants to -- her fingers twitch where they are by her wheels. )
[ He's still awake! Although ten minutes of laying there in silence and generally not trying to think too much has left him starting to feel the effects of the meds. The edge on the pain has blurred, not as sharp, not as invasive.
Only that also makes answering her questions all the more difficult.
It takes some time to decide.
A straw? ]
What? No. If I can sit up, it'll be fine. [ If he can. ] Are there even any other pillows to grab?
There's a blanket to fold in half and pillows on the other cots, plus a few spare ones for stuff like this. Trust me, we're basically in pillow central!
( Be they made up on the spot or otherwise. She speaks with more certainty than she feels, though a glance around provides her with enough evidence to know they can prop him up if need be. It's just... going to be awkward. Getting him up just enough to make swallowing comfortable sounds safer, and more doable, to Collette. )
I'm reaching for your arm right now. Want me to help you try to sit up? I can get another pillow behind you so you're not totally flat, it helps with the whole swallowing thing, I promise!
( Duh as the question might be, she respond automatically with the side she's on -- left, right, whichever. )
Try to tuck your chin in!
( She adds helpfully, making sure her wheel's locks are on before her other hand slides along the same arm she has a hold on. )
I figure if I get a grip on the shoulder opposite to where I am now, I can get you up enough and hold you there to get things settled.
( It'd be far, far easier if she weren't her, and weren't as she is, but that only stops Collette when it is detrimental to others, and not even then. (Fortunately, unfortunately.)
Her hand is at his opposite shoulder, sliding around the back of it. )
If you can hold on, go ahead. If you can't, no big deal!
( On a count down from three -- 3... 2... 1...! -- she makes the effort to pull him up toward a sitting position. (Thank goodness her hips and thighs end up keeping her anchored against her chair. Thank goodness the cot is sturdier than she realized.) )
But it isn't as difficult as it could have been. Once she starts pulling, he helps by pushing himself upwards with first his elbows, then his hands, pressed firmly against the cot. Going up too far, too fast, was the problem before.
He can stay propped up with some effort for her to settle pillows and such behind him, if she needs to. ]
( She asks him to, giving a squeeze of his arm and shoulder before pulling her hands back to herself. Unlocking her wheels, she executes a nice, tight roll and curve around backward to the nearest cot, nabbing up two pillows there in addition to the blanket already in her lap.
She's back with a little expressive whirl and movement of her hands, grin bright -- dimming slightly when she remembers he can't see. )
Two pillows coming up! Does your head feel wobbly on your neck? I'm by your left again.
( She says, chatting as she pulls the first pillow up and moves it behind him. The second follows suit, Collette chattering on about what she's doing while she's doing it. She's not sure what to do -- be default, she falls into a play by play, similar to the ones in her own head some mornings when she's motivating herself to get through a routine and on to something different for the mental exercise.
A final pat on the pillow before she pulls her hand out from behind him leads to a cheerful: )
I'd say go ahead and flop now, but that might be killer for your head. Here, I'm reaching for your right shoulder again, and my other hand's going to be behind your neck. Good thing you're not broad shouldered! I could never reach across like this if you were!
Wobbly? [ What a ridiculous word. He's just going to pretend that it doesn't describe what anything feels like right now. ] No, not really.
[ He feels the pillows being deposited behind him, the quiet sound of weight and cloth dropping on more cloth, the presence of something new near his back. He isn't propped up far enough to be properly sitting, so the second one brushes past him as it's left there.
Ha. Not broad shouldered? And here he thought that's what girls wanted in a guy! Well, assumes. It seems to be the stereotype.
But he doesn't comment on it, instead concentrating on lowering himself back against the pillows. More with her help this time, less giving up and flopping about. Now the pillows are what prop him up, rather than his own arms, and that comes as an immense relief. ]
( Wibbly, wobbly, bobbly, boo, just accept that's gonna be you! )
No problem!
( It's easy enough to say that, knowing she can school her voice to look cheerier than the expression on her face. It's a small blessing, that he can't see that concern there. )
Let me get this waterbottle open... One sec!
( She pulls herself away, taking the waterbottle into her lap and twisting the top off. It's not a new bottle -- these get reused -- but the water's decent, and room temperature, which wasn't refreshing as much as ice water might seem, but was kinder on the stomach.
She pulls out her borrowed straw, plopping it down into the neck of the waterbottle. )
Lift your right hand for me? I'm going to get the waterbottle set up for you. I went with the straw, by the way. Spilling when you're starting to go under is the worst. You feel so silly! At least I usually do.
( Continuing to converse as she reaches for his hand, if he offers it lke she asks, and even if he doesn't. She plans to help get his hand(s) wrapped around the bottle, and then prompt him to open his mouth to touch the straw against his lower lip. Hunting those things down when you could see them was stupidly difficult enough. )
[ But he doesn't turn it down. He just wanted her to know! That's what he said! Yeah. He raises his right hand, assuming that he's holding it out towards her. If she places the bottle against his palm, he'll wrap his fingers around it tight enough to keep a good grip.
There's a few irritating misses with the straw, however, and he ends up prodding himself in the face with it once or twice before managing.
( She sounds affable enough, and to be honest, that he's complaining actually makes her feel better -- like there's a limitus test where if Caesar isn't complaining, she needs to start exponentially worrying about what's going on.
He gets the water handled, and she has to laugh, at the complaint on taste -- it's a short bout of laughter tinged with a measure of relief. And fair or not, associative or not, she ends up asking something about five months displaced and unrelated to water at all -- )
Did you really have lap dogs at the camp you were in when you were dealing with the fighting Hugo was doing, in your last war?
( This is totally why you're dating her, she bets. Right after the laundry, it's for exactly these sorts of things! )
Of course. The castle decided to use them as guard dogs, but why I'll never understand. They're tiny and not very useful! But considering the captain of the guards there was a little girl, I guess that might explain it...
( She's smiling enough at a mental image of a bunch of chihuahua or pomeranian sized dogs defending anything, but tacking that little tidbit on makes it even more puzzling. )
How'd that happen? I could get the dogs, if what you need is something to bark a lot when people are coming in, instead of needing something that can hamstring or tear out throats, but the captain of the guards was a little girl?
( Looking for something for her hands to do, she tucks the blanket in close to his hip, then lower by his thigh. )
After all, what's that they say? Wonderful things come in small packages!
( Pats out the blanket on top of his thigh with a satisfied smile, brushing it straight downward. Something as small as a cockroach lisening in is enough to turn tides in some instances. It's the action and what yu do, not the size, that matters! )
Well, little as in a few years younger than I am, but how that happened, I have no clue. If the castle lord decided to let her go on as that, it's not entirely my business. Of course, he was hardly any older than her!
[ He can complain about Budehuc all day, don't get him staaarted. ]
( But if he's complaining, he's distracted until he drifts off! And she can listen to the dulcet tones of his... uh. Complaints.
One of many reasons why Collette never expects a sweet anything that's not along the lines of Caesar's humor out of his mouth toward her ever: expectations like these.)
So what, eleven? Kids get thrown into all kinds of things... How old was the castle lord? Did he just inherit suddenly or something?
( A little more tucking in and fussing with smoothing the blanket out because she can't sit still yet. )
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< You overextended. Okay, that's not such a big deal. it's like when you tear a muscle, or get a sprain. You need time for the swelling to go down and for healing to happen, that's all! The pain in your head was probably just that, a sign you were doing too much. Only you didn't know that, so you pushed harder, and you're dealing with the fall out. >
( By and large she sounds like she's laying it out for herself. She is; it makes it less something to be frightened of, more something to find amusing, in a certain sense. She lifts her head and swipes her tongue at his elbow, or wahtever part of his nearest arm's available. )
< Trust the ony guy with a girlfriend who can be a literal guide-dog around here to go blind learning a new trick with his weapon! You're one lucky guy, C! >
( Now she does laugh over Thought Speak, a liht, amused sensation, tied up in the worry and the sense of pervasive relief that follows not wondering is this forever and what kinds of concessions she will be needing to make. )
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I'm revising what I said about the Weapons. They're accidents waiting to happen... I don't need a guide dog, I need to be able to read! Or manage the tablet! Or... what if everyone starts posting written only posts?
[ He's going to miss things. If they're important things, that's no good, no good at all. ]
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< I think you were right originally! It's scary until you know how to use them. You have to make it work for you, not against you, that's all! It's not easy, but what is? >
( His litany of worries are worries -- but she's seen, and heard, people handling this. And she knows it's hard as the person having reality change so drastically to have to think forward and adapt when they really don't want to. It isn't fair is an element behind it all -- but that was the thing. Life very rarely knew what human values of fair really were. )
< You have a good memory. I can help teach you by feel how to know where buttons are. We can set your tablet to read everything out loud! Break has that, Toph has it, the dragon here before had it. We can even pick a voice you can stand hearing! Or I can read things out loud, too, since I'm supposed to be reading a lot as it is. That way neither one of us misses out on things. >
( She settles back down, giving up on being pushy about his chest, letting her head settle in his lap while her paw comes off his leg and drops down to the floor. )
< We can walk you through the halls so you know where you are so good you can walk it half asleep. It takes some effort, but it's not like you're not willing when there's a reason. These are set-backs, C. Not ones we can't get by! >
( Her optimism pushes through at the end, where the rest has been about more reasonable mental tones, practical offers and suggestions, still underwritten with relief and a well tamped down concern. There's something else, warmer than all of that, tied up in what she says next. )
< You're not alone in the dark. You have me, and Lenalee, and Oz, if you want him. Steph and Saul, though who knows if it feels good or weird having a lawyer on your side! Nash, when he's stirred up to talk. All the people you're working with on these missions, they're listening to you because of your brain and the way you think, and that didn't get over tired for a while like your eyes have! What's that you told me the other day, your brain's always fresh and on? >
( Teasing; it hadn't been a truth, but she'd let it slide then, and she'd bring it around now as something light for him to refute or hold on to. )
< You'll be okay! >
( I love you, she adds for her own benefit. It doesn't feel guilty anymore when she thinks that. There was some peace to be had with deciding it was okay to be selfish in some ways. I love you, and you'll be okay. )
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[ Because he can't entirely blame her upbeat take on this mess on her, not when he knows exactly how being in that particular form goes. Always happy, always. Still, it feels like she isn't taking this seriously! Even though she likely is.
He gingerly peels the damp towel off from where he'd been holding it down, over his eyes, and squints, though by instinct alone, since he was expecting sudden light. There is none. No light where light should be, only darkness, pitch black.
The hand still holding the towel trembles ever so slightly, his grip on the cloth tightening.
He wants to throw it across the room and yell and be upset, demand how this could happen, why, why? Sure, everyone else is trying to see some light at the end of the tunnel, but he can't! Literally!
But he doesn't do any of those things. Instead, after that short few seconds pass, his grip relaxes and he lets his arm, hand, and towel drop to hang limply over the side of the cot. His eyes close again. At least that's meant to be dark. ]
Of course. I'll be fine. [ Not really. ] Only... don't, okay? Don't tell anyone else. Not anyone who doesn't need to know about this, alright?
[ Lenalee, Oz, those two are unavoidable, obviously, but why would Steph or Saul or even Nash need to know? If he's going to be fine, it this is going to be temporary, he'll let it pass as a footnote not to be noticed. ]
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The dog appreciated not being fought for the movement, something more about unease than happiness. Caesar might remember that, too. )
< I never would. > ( This comes out firm. ) < Not on stuff like this, unless it was important. Lenalee knows; Oz will soon. We might not have to work with this for long! I'm pointing out another fact, that's all. You're not alone, no matter what. >
( No matter if she disappeared tomorrow, like so many do, because out of the number of people he did know, at least one would still be around. And he wouldn't, absolutely wouldn't, be alone. )
< Still got a major headache, huh? I can smell that. Sorta! > ( Smell that he's in pain, from the change in chemical makeup or whatever it is informing her nose as she breathes in. ) < That's your first excuse for leaning on a fluffy creature thigh-high, if you don't want to borrow my chair or the spare for getting back to your room. The second one can be I'm getting clingy. >
( If he wants to say as much -- she lets her mental tone lighten, as if she were laughing, but not quite. )
< Girls get that way, right? Everyone says so! >
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[ Implying she wasn't before! But the joke, while it doesn't draw a laugh, does relax him just a bit, enough that he ventures to raise his other hand and carefully reach for the golden retriever's head.
At least, he hopes that's her head.
If not, he might end up patting her nose or... neck? Not that it makes too much difference. ]
They gave me something for the headache. I suppose now's the time to try and move somewhere else, before those kick in.
[ Because they warned him that they weren't the generic sort of painkiller. ]
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< Before I wasn't literally dogging your every step! >
( Now she holds still, waiting for him to start standing, sticking to his side. )
< Okay, then back to your place before the drugs knock you out for a while. If you start to feel woozy, tell me! Can you keep a hand on me while we walk? I'll stick by your side either way. >
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[ Though what about Lenalee? Did she leave? But it would make sense. Standing around awkwardly while he and Collette chatted... He wouldn't stick around, either.
He inhales deeply, as if preparing for some great effort, and sits up! Attempts to sit up. Makes it part way up but then gives up and flops back down onto the cot. His head swims from the attempt, only making the pounding that's already up there all the more worse.
The hand he'd put on her head leaves, shakily going press against his temple instead. ]
Ugh... okay... maybe not.
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< Definitely not. Sleep off what you can, okay? I'll be here. Gotta hunt down something more comfortablel to be on, but hey, that's easier here than elsewhere! >
( Hunt down a chair in reality, just to borrow. If she's here more than four hours, she'll need to be able to make it to the bathrooms -- and not rely just on morphs. She's still not recovered enough to exhaust energy as freely as she did before June. (She hates that, but she accepts it. Pushing now means not having the ability to push later, at a time she might need it more.) )
< Do you want water? They don't have you on a saline drip... I can get you water after I demorph! >
( They've got the worst tag-team game of "who's in the hospital/clinic and who is watching over the one in the hospital/clinic, but it doesn't even occur to her to just leave. Nor to get her own chair -- she'd just need to have it returned again later, since she wasn't planning to roll out with him once he could walk. )
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[ But she will anyway, because she's Collette and she'll metaphorically hover about like this. He wonders if it'll ever get tiring, how they keep switching off places like this. Who's injured, who's keeping watch, over and over again.
He sighs and eventually drags his hand down from his hand, though mostly to wipe the dog drool off on the sheet. ]
Although water would be nice...
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( She ignores the first, knowing he had to know this wasn't a matter of having to or not having to. What else was she going to do? She wants to stay, so she stays. Like she had before, and like she will again. It wouldn't be a lie to say she'd do so for all her friends... but it might be a lie to say that doing so for Caesar at this point wasn't different, in some way.
She's gone for ten minutes or so, demorphing and fanangling another chair. There's a promise to help with inventory later if she can stay, and that she'll keep out of the way, yes ma'am, no sir, as you will. Collette returns with a bottle of water, chatting as she comes. )
Ended up finding water bottles, we brought out a whole bunch for everyone. Did you want a straw? I grabbed one,, sometimes it's easier to suck than figure out swallowing. You awake, or did the meds finally send you on to sleepsville?
( All equally conversational. )
I can grab another few pillows to help you sit up if you like, or I can help. You're probably going to start feeling even floppier! What would you prefer to do?
( She asks at last, stopped by the level of his chest and shoulders. She doesn't reach out to him. Collette plans to tell him before she actually does that, though she wants to -- her fingers twitch where they are by her wheels. )
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[ He's still awake! Although ten minutes of laying there in silence and generally not trying to think too much has left him starting to feel the effects of the meds. The edge on the pain has blurred, not as sharp, not as invasive.
Only that also makes answering her questions all the more difficult.
It takes some time to decide.
A straw? ]
What? No. If I can sit up, it'll be fine. [ If he can. ] Are there even any other pillows to grab?
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( Be they made up on the spot or otherwise. She speaks with more certainty than she feels, though a glance around provides her with enough evidence to know they can prop him up if need be. It's just... going to be awkward. Getting him up just enough to make swallowing comfortable sounds safer, and more doable, to Collette. )
I'm reaching for your arm right now. Want me to help you try to sit up? I can get another pillow behind you so you're not totally flat, it helps with the whole swallowing thing, I promise!
( He's getting the straw.
He's totally getting the straw. )
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[ The one she's close to, duh. Of course. Nevermind. ]
Sure. [ It's a general agreement, soon followed by clarification a few seconds later. ] For both. It's fine.
[ Yeah, he's going to need the straw. ]
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Try to tuck your chin in!
( She adds helpfully, making sure her wheel's locks are on before her other hand slides along the same arm she has a hold on. )
I figure if I get a grip on the shoulder opposite to where I am now, I can get you up enough and hold you there to get things settled.
( It'd be far, far easier if she weren't her, and weren't as she is, but that only stops Collette when it is detrimental to others, and not even then. (Fortunately, unfortunately.)
Her hand is at his opposite shoulder, sliding around the back of it. )
If you can hold on, go ahead. If you can't, no big deal!
( On a count down from three -- 3... 2... 1...! -- she makes the effort to pull him up toward a sitting position. (Thank goodness her hips and thighs end up keeping her anchored against her chair. Thank goodness the cot is sturdier than she realized.) )
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[ No, really, what?
But it isn't as difficult as it could have been. Once she starts pulling, he helps by pushing himself upwards with first his elbows, then his hands, pressed firmly against the cot. Going up too far, too fast, was the problem before.
He can stay propped up with some effort for her to settle pillows and such behind him, if she needs to. ]
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She's back with a little expressive whirl and movement of her hands, grin bright -- dimming slightly when she remembers he can't see. )
Two pillows coming up! Does your head feel wobbly on your neck? I'm by your left again.
( She says, chatting as she pulls the first pillow up and moves it behind him. The second follows suit, Collette chattering on about what she's doing while she's doing it. She's not sure what to do -- be default, she falls into a play by play, similar to the ones in her own head some mornings when she's motivating herself to get through a routine and on to something different for the mental exercise.
A final pat on the pillow before she pulls her hand out from behind him leads to a cheerful: )
I'd say go ahead and flop now, but that might be killer for your head. Here, I'm reaching for your right shoulder again, and my other hand's going to be behind your neck. Good thing you're not broad shouldered! I could never reach across like this if you were!
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[ He feels the pillows being deposited behind him, the quiet sound of weight and cloth dropping on more cloth, the presence of something new near his back. He isn't propped up far enough to be properly sitting, so the second one brushes past him as it's left there.
Ha. Not broad shouldered? And here he thought that's what girls wanted in a guy! Well, assumes. It seems to be the stereotype.
But he doesn't comment on it, instead concentrating on lowering himself back against the pillows. More with her help this time, less giving up and flopping about. Now the pillows are what prop him up, rather than his own arms, and that comes as an immense relief. ]
But this is much better. Thanks.
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No problem!
( It's easy enough to say that, knowing she can school her voice to look cheerier than the expression on her face. It's a small blessing, that he can't see that concern there. )
Let me get this waterbottle open... One sec!
( She pulls herself away, taking the waterbottle into her lap and twisting the top off. It's not a new bottle -- these get reused -- but the water's decent, and room temperature, which wasn't refreshing as much as ice water might seem, but was kinder on the stomach.
She pulls out her borrowed straw, plopping it down into the neck of the waterbottle. )
Lift your right hand for me? I'm going to get the waterbottle set up for you. I went with the straw, by the way. Spilling when you're starting to go under is the worst. You feel so silly! At least I usually do.
( Continuing to converse as she reaches for his hand, if he offers it lke she asks, and even if he doesn't. She plans to help get his hand(s) wrapped around the bottle, and then prompt him to open his mouth to touch the straw against his lower lip. Hunting those things down when you could see them was stupidly difficult enough. )
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[ But he doesn't turn it down. He just wanted her to know! That's what he said! Yeah. He raises his right hand, assuming that he's holding it out towards her. If she places the bottle against his palm, he'll wrap his fingers around it tight enough to keep a good grip.
There's a few irritating misses with the straw, however, and he ends up prodding himself in the face with it once or twice before managing.
And then... ]
...ugh... plastic taste.
[ Reused water bottles are the woooorst. ]
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( She sounds affable enough, and to be honest, that he's complaining actually makes her feel better -- like there's a limitus test where if Caesar isn't complaining, she needs to start exponentially worrying about what's going on.
He gets the water handled, and she has to laugh, at the complaint on taste -- it's a short bout of laughter tinged with a measure of relief. And fair or not, associative or not, she ends up asking something about five months displaced and unrelated to water at all -- )
Did you really have lap dogs at the camp you were in when you were dealing with the fighting Hugo was doing, in your last war?
( This is totally why you're dating her, she bets. Right after the laundry, it's for exactly these sorts of things! )
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[ Of all the things to ask! He frowns at that. ]
Of course. The castle decided to use them as guard dogs, but why I'll never understand. They're tiny and not very useful! But considering the captain of the guards there was a little girl, I guess that might explain it...
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( She's smiling enough at a mental image of a bunch of chihuahua or pomeranian sized dogs defending anything, but tacking that little tidbit on makes it even more puzzling. )
How'd that happen? I could get the dogs, if what you need is something to bark a lot when people are coming in, instead of needing something that can hamstring or tear out throats, but the captain of the guards was a little girl?
( Looking for something for her hands to do, she tucks the blanket in close to his hip, then lower by his thigh. )
After all, what's that they say? Wonderful things come in small packages!
( Pats out the blanket on top of his thigh with a satisfied smile, brushing it straight downward. Something as small as a cockroach lisening in is enough to turn tides in some instances. It's the action and what yu do, not the size, that matters! )
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[ He can complain about Budehuc all day, don't get him staaarted. ]
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One of many reasons why Collette never expects a sweet anything that's not along the lines of Caesar's humor out of his mouth toward her ever: expectations like these.)
So what, eleven? Kids get thrown into all kinds of things... How old was the castle lord? Did he just inherit suddenly or something?
( A little more tucking in and fussing with smoothing the blanket out because she can't sit still yet. )
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