milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The first thing Doc sees when he opens his eyes is the top of Bar smashed up against his face.

Ow, that hurts.

The second thing Doc sees when he opens his eyes is Will, slumped over next to him, his face also smashed into Bar.

That really can't be comfortable.

Upon sitting up, Doc realizes that for one thing, his head really, really hurts. His mouth is dry and he feels like he fell off of a horse and rolled down a cliff, sore back and neck and everything's a little bit fuzzy.

There's a memory of singing and another brief hint of some poetry, and women's breasts...

"What the fargin' 'ell," he groans, before he reaches out a hand to poke the other outlaw. Maybe Will remembers something.

((Two pups, two muns, one post! It's a special. Both Doc and Will are here, and hung over, feel free to poke them as they look horribly miserable after having passed out and spent the night sleeping on Bar.))

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"She's na movin', someone moved the smithy in 'ere, can ye 'ear the 'ammer?"

Will corrects through his pillow then some more thoughts fall into place,

"Need water, water 'elps an those pill things for pain."

"Water, right," Doc says, before he sits up (if propping oneself up on forearms and lifting ones head is considered 'up') and looks at the Bar.

"Water, Bar, please, ma'am."

After a long time, two jugs of water appear near the general area of the two outlaws heads.

Will is able to prop his head on his pillow,

"Water, thank ye Lady Bar, make sure ye 'ave some too."

Doc can help out with this. Very carefully, he tips the jug (after a healthy swallow or six for himself) and lets a little onto the bar, into the cracks that damn pirate was pouring rum into earlier.

"I'm a doctor. I fix things," he explains, with a pat.

Water is good, water helps though it takes a while, Will is drinking water,

"Dinna know ye're a Doc, or forgot. Lady Bar 'e'll make it better, need those thingies for pain."

"Ne'er told you, don't think," Doc offers, with a shrug.

Eventually some little tablets show up. Doc hates medicine but knows they work (of course it's not the real strong stuff like he's used to) and he sighs.

Then passes some to Will.

Medecine can be helpful, Will takes some with water and then rests his head on the pillow again,

"Must be useful, bein' a doctor an an outlaw."

"Helps when boys get hurt, though most time when boys got hurt, they died, couldn't save them."

Doc looks down and then carefully sets some painkillers down on the wood and smashes them softly with his jug of water, then drips water on them.

"Here, ma'am, this'll help."

"Tuck fixes us up, 'e's good at it though sometimes tis too late,"

More water is drunk since that's depressing to think about and also head hurting too much.

"Chavez got in the stomach, I fixed him up, but couldn't save Dick, Dick was gone 'fore I got to him and I got hit in the hand,"

He sips at the water. It tastes good.

Very carefully, Will puts an arm around Doc and drinks more water,

"'appens sometimes, tis 'ard bein' an outlaw."

"S'very hard," Doc says, grateful for the arm to keep him steady and for the sentiment and the support. "Do best I can, sometimes it ain't good enough but I try."

He slugs back some water without moving.

Arm around Doc means Will isn't going to fall over and the water is helping and always better to be hungover with friends,

"Aye, tis, can only e'er do what ye can an pray tis 'nough."

Always better to be hungover with friends.

Always.

He grimaces slightly and tips, before grabbing onto the bar for support.

"Feels like the room's spinnin'."

Will helps Doc not fall over,

"Na spinnin', too loud to be spinnin'."

"Not loud, just spinnin'," Doc says. "Head's gonna explode though."

That won't be pretty.

"Aye, 'ave more water."

Since water helps with the loud and the spinning kind of.

"Don't wanna drink too much, think I wrote poetry in the 'hitter last night and don't wanna read it," he cringes, before he sips at it regardless.

"But 'elps kinda, dinna know ye knew 'ow to write poetry, ye any good? An could ye teach me to write when me 'ead's na goin' to 'xplode?"

"Mr. Tunstall, helped me learn poetry, course I could teach you when we're not gonna die, Christ, feels like s'gonna explode or I'm gonna die," he cringes, before he goes down and burrows into the pillow a little, taking a deep breath to calm his mind and his head a little. "Be happy to teach you."

"If 'xplodes mine will too, sure someone will clean us up."

Cringing is good and the pillows are comfortable and Will gets out through the pillows,

"Ta, glad to 'elp ye 'owe'er I can, teach ye to fight."

"Might like that," Doc says. "Might need it if Dolan's sonsovbitches come after us now that Murphy's a stiff in a photograph."

Pillow is so comfortable.

"Aye, who's Dolan?"

The pillow is really lovely and the painkillers and water are starting to work so head doesn't feel like exploding quite as much.

"Murphy's partner," Doc explains, from his position on the pillow, arm folded under his head. He's not near being ready for stairs or moving from his stool. Even if his back is killing him. "Murphy's men killed Mr. Tunstall."

"Aye, teach ye 'ow to take 'im down then,"

Will says as he rests his head on the pillow and yes resting is good, perhaps in another few hours, he'll be ready to go up the stairs since there's bed there.

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scurlock - 2007-06-07 02:47 (UTC) - Expand

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