milliways_bar | (no subject)

It's... surprisingly cold in the forest, when you suddenly don't have fur to keep you warm. Sunshine hadn't been able to get into the bar from the outside before the holiday ended. Oh, the lever door-handle on the inside had been a stroke of luck, but the round turning door-knob on the outside wasn't helpful at all to someone stuck without hands. She waited until cover of darkness before emerging from the cover of the trees, grabbing a towel from the laundry to at least cover up with as she sneaks up the outside stairs towards the rooms.

But, of course, as she comes quickly down the hall - towel wrapped securely around her - one of the doors is open. Shit. Should she hide until whoever it is closes their door? Should she walk on past as though nothing is wrong? What if they see her? Wait. So what if they see her?

Sunshine does intend to walk on past the open door without looking for a moment like wandering down the hall in just a towel is anything but normal.... but then she sees Autor, lying propped up against the door frame and looking far past the worse for wear.

"Autor!" Rae exclaims, surprised by his battered state. "What happened to you?"

He actually doesn't look that battered. Really, he's fine, ankles and wrists and elbows aside.

Autor glances up, already wincing at the sound of her voice because oh, here we go--but! she's!

"Double carthaginian hell!" he hisses, flushing and jamming his eyes shut.

"Rae," he says weakly, inclining his head as far as it can go, "I want you to seriously consider everything you know about me, and see if you really need to ask that question."

He pauses, as if to let her muse for a moment--shouldn't take much more than one--but then continues speaking. "Then I want you to go get dressed."

Sunshine bristles, just a bit, drawing the towel more securely around her. In fact, there may be a minor telekinesis spell keeping it in place, now.

"Then it's just the usual, then," she says, sounding not surprised. "Doing something stupid and getting yourself hurt as a result."

Of course that's what it is. Autor no more thinks his everyday plans through than he does his plan to set himself up as puppermaster (even after he's expressed his sheer disgust at being surrounded by the characters, the puppets from a story.

"Don't worry about my current lack of fashion sense. I'll take care of it. In the meantime, I can get you down to the infirmary."

Autor nods thoughtfully. "Yes, that's about right," he says quietly, and smiles, briefly, while keeping his eyes on his lap. "Cover me in wax and watch me drown, but flying is still worth it."

The boy shakes his head, still turning his gaze away. "I'll argue with you about the infirmary later," he murmurs, because really, he should get down there sometime, "but your not wearing anything isn't just a fashion issue. It's... you're not... Why are you in a towel?"

This isn't exactly the way he expected their next conversation to go. More yelling, definitely. It might be that he's a bit loopy already from pain meds.

Edited 2013-06-08 06:45 (UTC)

It certainly isn't how she expected their next conversation to go, either. But he's hurt, and that takes precedence, even though she's angry with him.

"Well, deer don't tend to keep a change of clothes handy, especially if they've been locked outside for a couple of days," she says, dryly. "Listen, I'm going to get you to the infirmary, but if the towel bothers you so much-"

This is the sort of thing she can help. The towel is green and fuzzy, but a second later, it is a light green sundress, falling softly around her knees as she kneels down to help him up. "Better?"

"Why didn't you just transmute that at the doo--no, wait!" Autor cries, and hisses when he jerks his ankle getting away from her help. A fresh wave of nausea strikes him in the belly, and he leans his head on the doorframe.

"Bar has some amazing opiates, but I can't stand yet," the boy says softly, giving her a pale-faced, sweat-dotted smile. "I've just been not moving until they kick in all the way."

After taking a minute or so to breathe, he turns his head towards his room and away from her. "I was hoping you'd catch me after this, so you could just be angry without any complications to it."

Rae makes a face at the suggestion that she should've already transmuted the towel. She hadn't really planned on running into prudishly modest megalomaniacs along the way. Maybe she should have. This is Milliways.

"Like there's ever going to not be complications between us, Autor," she says, exasperated, as she checks over his ankle and any other visible injuries without touching him. "If you want, I can lift you - levitate you, I mean - so that it wouldn't exacerbate whatever damage has already been done. You'd not have to put pressure on anything broken or move in ways that might hurt." It also takes the question of his balance out of the equation.

She'll find he has few bumps and bruises, but that he has bound both wrists with Bar-ordered braces and made a half-hearted attempt to do the same to his elbow.

The boy peers at her cautiously, curiously, seriously, and then with resigned recognition and a heavy weariness.

"All right. That would be quite a bit easier than crawling down there myself," he murmurs, and then yawns. "I've taken a pain reduction potion from the moon and the strongest opiate Bar can give me without a prescription. They won't interact with each other. So I should be all right to dangle behind you, even though that will be terribly embarrassing."

He fidgets a little. "Let me know how I can pay you back for this. I will think of a way if you don't."

Edited 2013-06-09 18:14 (UTC)

"There's nothing embarrassing about accepting help from others," she starts to say, but the hollow phrase is ended by something of a grimace. "I can't even say that without feeling ridiculous. I hate accepting help, too, but it's important to know when a little embarrassment is better than the alternative."

Very slowly - and with Sunshine offering a general hand-motion so that Autor can see what to expect from the levitation - she lifts him from the ground to his usual standing-height. He touches nothing, and all of his limbs, broken or not, are supported. Not restrained, but they will not dangle loosely unless he chooses to let them do so.

"You can pay me back by paying it forward," she remarks. "Everything all right? I'm not hurting you, am I?"

And Autor laughs. It's weak, but genuine. "That is true, but frankly, I figured that if I said no, you'd be angry with me due to the wrong stubbornness."

The boy is grateful for the warning, though, and the support without restraints. He murmurs ~~appreciative~~ envious comments about her ability to hoist people in the air, and then yawns again. "It hurts, but that's not you and there's nothing you can do about it. So don't worry too much?"

"Oh, I would be angry, yes," she answers. "I still am, really. But if you had refused, I'd have gone to get people from the infirmary to bring you down there, and it still wouldn't have gone the way you wanted."

They begin moving; Autor floats out of the doorway and starts to follow her down the hall. "I figure this way is easier on everyone involved."

Autor unconsciously curls his limbs inward, grimacing. "Please tell me you're joking," he says quietly, knowing she's not and hating her a little for it.