ultraviolents | inbox | in the night.

Hm.

[ his brows furrow — he wonders if that's something that is an effect left behind by the battle, perhaps a hit to the head that hadn't been noticeable... or if it's something else. ]

That shouldn't be a symptom. Have you been able to eat or drink? [ two out of three, he thinks. if she's sleeping... that's one. but she needs to fulfill one of the other two, too.

as he talks, he turns to walk to the nearest pew, gesturing for her to sit down. it'll be easier to set the cast like that, rather than her standing up. ]

[ the descent to helix and the trip back up had been rough on her. she doesn't remember getting hit in the head and her head doesn't hurt outside of the quiet, persistent ache that comes from not properly sleeping or processing grief, so she'd written it off. she's sure he'll check to make sure she's not wrong, though.

has she been able to? sure. has she been? not really. she debates answering the question technically but however good at lying she is, she's pretty sure he'd see through it. and it's probably best not to piss off the person who can help restore her arm back into a more functional state. ]

No. [ she takes a seat, holding the arm in question out to him. ] I haven't really wanted to.

Edited 2020-08-23 19:53 (UTC)

Then you have no one to blame but yourself.

[ he manages to sound somewhat irritable, here, though not because he's annoyed, per se... but rather because the last thing she needs is to make her own situation worse. ]

Room.

[ with a flick of his fingers, he removes the splint, and then swiftly reaches for his sword, holding it in front of him. ]

Scan.

[ don't mind him as he checks her well-being by literally scanning her body, identifying everything that's wrong at once. ]

Your wrist is healing, but not as well as it could. You don't have a concussion, so your symptoms aren't because of your head. It's more likely because of exhaustion and dehydration. [ sighing, he slings kikoku back over his shoulder. ]

I know you're waiting for the dead to resurrect, Elektra-ya, but I didn't think that involved keeping yourself from getting better.

[ her neutral, if unhappy, expression shifts into irritation at his first sentence, and she fumes silently as he removes the splint and uses his sword to scan her for any further injuries or illness. ]

I don't want him to be alone when he wakes. [ it's meant to sound harsher than it is, but she's too drained for it to have as much bite as she wants it to. which kind of proves his point, much to her chagrin. ]

[ law steps back and gives her a look. ]

Believe it or not, I understand.

[ if it was rosinante here... he'd be doing the same thing, waiting for him to wake. ]

But when he does wake, do you think what he wants to see is you, half-dead of exhaustion and injuries? [ then, with a raised eyebrow and a flat tone, ] Unless that's what he likes.

[ look he just wants her to take care of herself and not ignore her own health here. which is him being a giant hypocrite, but let's not focus on that.

because room is still activated, he expands it further, further, until it reaches to the nearest place he can feel has some water and a sandwich. (it may be soldat on his patrol. oops.) suddenly, they're in his hands, and he holds them out to her. ]

Here. You've got one working arm. Eat while I fix up the other.

inbox | in the night.

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