[pfsb+new mexico] achoo

[porcupineliz]

It's morning on the third day of a four-day visit, and they seem to actually be still enjoying each other's company. For a miracle. Today they're supposed to go exploring one of the nearby neighborhoods, and Liz went to bed last night in happy anticipation.

... and can't seem to pull herself out of the guest bed this morning.

Maybe it's got something to do with the cough and headache she seems to have developed overnight.

Comments

[porcupineliz]

What time even is it?

She fumbles for her phone, finds it, blinks blearily at the readout for a few seconds before the numbers register.

As do a couple of other bits of sensory input ooookay yeah she's gonna need to get out of bed. Time to see if she can manage that.




The door to Liz's room opens, and she emerges -- once again shuffling and leaning a little on the wall.

[dr_j]

Jordie lifts his head, listening.

If she doesn't call, he won't move.

[porcupineliz]

Shuffle shuffle shuffle.

The bathroom door closes.



After two or three minutes there's the sound of running water, which shuts off again.

Another half a minute before the bathroom door opens again, and shuffling footsteps approach the living room.

"Jordie?" she croaks.

[dr_j]

He looks up from the socks. "Right here."

[porcupineliz]

"Hey." Her smile is weary, but sweet. "Just wanted to let you know I'm not dead."

[dr_j]

"Glad to hear it," he says, light. "Are you hungry? You should probably eat something regardless."

[porcupineliz]

"I don't feel very hungry," she says slowly, rubbing her neck (which aches a bit), "but I think I could eat something. A little. Is just a little okay?"

[dr_j]

"Yeah." He tosses socks in the basket, puts the basket aside. "More soup. Kitchen or bed? Either one is fine."

[porcupineliz]

"I wanna try kitchen." A crooked smile. "I hear all the cool kids are doing this 'sitting up' thing."

[dr_j]

Jordie grins at her, points down the hall to the kitchen. "Do you always feel this sorry for yourself when you're sick?"

[porcupineliz]

"Always," she agrees, shuffling toward the kitchen. "Without exception. I'll do my best not to sink to actual whining."

[dr_j]

"I appreciate it," he says, solemn, as he trails after her. "You seem more cheerful."

[porcupineliz]

"Mmnh. Still feel kind of like death, but ... not so much like death that got stomped on."

Very carefully, she lowers herself into a kitchen chair.

[dr_j]

"Sleep is magical," he says, fetching more soup from the freezer. "I'll put the kettle on. And I might run out and pick up some orange juice, later."

[porcupineliz]

"Orange juice sounds really good." She rubs her eyes, and rests her cheek on one hand.

"I know I already said thanks a bunch of times," she says, a little softer, "but it's still true."

[dr_j]

"...did you think I would put you out of the house to live or die according to natural selection?" Light, as the container of soup goes in the microwave.

[porcupineliz]

"Course not." She rubs her nose. "That's not the point. I mean, maybe it's basically what any decent human being would do, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate it a lot."

[dr_j]

The kettle goes on the stove. "Well. All right."

It's easier than fighting about it.

[porcupineliz]

She's not sure what to make of that reaction, especially through the dull headache -- but hey, maybe cool it on the thanks, Liz, hmm?

Of course, that leaves her with nothing to say next. She sniffs a little, and idly traces circles on the table with her fingertip.

[dr_j]

Jordie doesn't mind -- has never minded -- silence.

He dumps the contents of the barely-defrosted container into a pot on the stove. A few minutes pass; first Liz gets a cup of tea. Then she gets a bowl of soup, not too long after.

Quiet: "If you don't think you'll be well enough to fly, we can make alternate arrangements."

[porcupineliz]

"'S worrying about that," she mumbles into her teacup. "-- well. Wondering."

Beat.

"No, worrying, had it right the first time."

She looks up. "My flight's ... tomorrow, right?"

[dr_j]

"Tomorrow night."

[porcupineliz]

She swallows some soup. It tastes unbelievably good, which tells her how much she needs food even if she doesn't feel hungry.

"I might be feeling okay enough to fly by then," she says, but doesn't believe it. And doesn't sound much as though she believes it.

"... but other arrangements might be good to have in mind. In case."

[dr_j]

Quiet: "I have to go back to work day after tomorrow regardless. So unless you want to wait until the weekend..."

[porcupineliz]

"And I'd have to rebuy the ticket, if I don't make it onto the flight I booked."

She rubs her face, trying to think. Accelerating the progress of the sickness, so that she'd get over it faster, would be possible but not necessarily wise.