numbered_doctor (
numbered_doctor) wrote in
milliways_bar2013-03-24 08:31 pm
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Remy had been feeling a little off for most the day, but a nap had only coaxed out more symptoms, chest feeling tight, and her breathing short and wheezy. Grumbling to herself, Remy makes her way downstairs, bee-lining straight for the infirmary for asthma meds she needs only once in a blue moon.
Sometime later, she can be found curled on one end of one of the couches and flipping idly though a book and her new inhaler resting on the coffee table in front of her.
Botherable either in the infirmary, or afterwards on the couch. Chances are she's not going to stop for you on her way to the infirmary.
Sometime later, she can be found curled on one end of one of the couches and flipping idly though a book and her new inhaler resting on the coffee table in front of her.
Botherable either in the infirmary, or afterwards on the couch. Chances are she's not going to stop for you on her way to the infirmary.
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"Got locked in a little after the allpocolypse."
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"Has it really been that long?"
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But that's because she's been using the bar to heal up between fights.
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"Time flies, I suppose."
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"Come see what I've been working on," she suggests, bumping Remy's shoulder with her own.
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"Give me just a little bit longer to stop feeling shaky and I'm all yours."
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They'll live with that craving for the rest of their lives! Mwahahaha.
The kitchen, when they go through the door, smells of summer. Lemon and herbs warmed by the sun, with the dark earthiness of chocolate. Some innocuous-looking brownies sit in a tray on one of the cooling racks.
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"Well, it's a good thing I'm a doctor, then."