milliways_bar | (no subject)

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After this, Wilford got some good news, and some bad news. Good news: someone found his dog. Bad news: he got on a train, and got off in the middle of the desert.

Going to the desert is very much a two person job, but luckily Wilford has friends who are willing to help. Or hinder. Either one.

Wilford and Jim walk into the bar after their adventure dirty, bleeding, covered in dog slobber, and very much annoyed with one another. Even away from all the dust, Wilford's coughing and hacking is getting worse, as is his headache, but he makes good on his promise and buys Jim his damn ice cream.

[ooc: First link has already been posted. Second link is safe for work. Third link contains psychological horror elements, a lot of language, and a spot of poisoning between friends. Pre-emptive warning for death within this post. Reactions welcome.]

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Jim is looking very pleased with life as he licks Haagen Daz off a spoon. A pralines and Cream sundae! His favourite!

'Are you all right?

It is obviously the ice cream, and being out of the desert, that is causing this random good mood. Obviously.

Wilford would answer that, but, you know. Things.

He shakes his head, and gets some more water from the bar. He's never had allergies in his life. What the hell is this all of a sudden?

It takes him a good long minute to get everything somewhat under control. The water doesn't go down as easily as it should, but he is coughing up a storm. That's got to be why, right?

"No," he manages to say. That doesn't come out very well either. It's like there's no air in his lungs to get the word out.

'Oh, that's a shame.'

Jim's smile is only getting wider. Ooooh, the toffee sauce layer. Legendary.

'Maybe it was something you ate. That diner was dodgy.'

Wilford tries to tell Jim to shut up, but it's definitely getting worse. It's like he's not coughing to get something out of his lungs, but because his lungs seem to think that's what they're supposed to be doing.

This isn't some sudden allergy attack. Wilford would glare at Jim, but he's more focused on trying to breathe right now.

Jim leans back against the bar, perched on his stool and licking his spoon, the picture of insouciance.

'I think you need a doctor,' he says, for information purposes only because a doctor is definitely not going to help, nor is he going to fetch one. 'You don't sound good at all.'

Wilford too leans against the bar, only so he's able to stay on his feet. He's not coughing anymore. He's choking on nothing. It's humiliating, but he's not going to fall over and give Jim that satisfaction.

Fuck you, Jim. Fuck you right in the eye.

Jim is going to sit riiiiiight here until Wilford falls right on his ass. He's chuckling a bit now, and searching through his sundae to get to the crunchy waffle bits.

'You're really taking a long time about this.'

So rude.

Wilford is determined to power through this. He's walked off being shot and stabbed and run over. He can wait this out.

Probably.

Or it'll just keep getting worse and he won't be able to do a damn thing about it.

There's a lot of unhealthy-sounding racket happening in the bar today. Like, someone is probably dying unhealthy. While this might be the kind of thing that most people would consider normal, Mark isn't so sure.

He walks over to investigate, and finds one person casually eating ice cream, and someone else not-so-casually choking on something.

"Woah. What's going on?" he says, wondering why ice cream man isn't helping.

'I have no idea. Nut allergy?'

Yeah no, Jim is not concerned. And not going to pretend to help, largely because it's pointless.

Is it bad when your vision starts to go a bit grey at the edges?

That's probably bad.

Mark doesn't know what a nut allergy actually looks like, but this looks serious regardless. He steps closer, and starts helping the stricken man down to the floor to... make things easier?

He's taken a little off-guard by the pink moustache. He's heard about this guy, but he pushes that aside. Now is not the time.

"I'm a doctor. Kind of," he says. He looks up at Jim. "When did this start?"

He shrugs, and licks his spoon again.

'He started coughing ages ago. The rest of it, just when we came in here.'

His eyes go wide, and he looks around in mock fearfulness.

'Do you think there's a toxin in here?'

Jim is the worst. Literally the worst. Wilford would shoot him right here if that didn't take energy he didn't have.

That's the funny thing about breathing. If you don't do it, everything stops working.

Okay. Uhm. This guy definitely needs help. And Mark has no idea what to do.

"My first human patient and it's this."

Great!

He gets back on his feet and tries to haul Wilford up as well.

"We should get him back to the infirmary and get some more help," he says to Jim, strongly implying that Jim get down here and try to get Wilford to his feet.

Yeah, no, not happening. Jim digs his spoon back into the warm toffee/caramel layer instead. A much better use of his time.

'Why don't you run and get him an oxygen mask first? Perhaps find a doctor who knows what he's doing?'

'First human patient'? The fuck does that mean?

As if Wilford weren't in a bad enough way as it was, now the panic has started to set in. He is going to die in the most humiliating way possible, and it will have been some untrained med student who helped kill him.

And that's about the time he blacks out completely.

Yeah. Help. Right! Do that first!

"Make sure he's still breathing!" Mark says as he rushes back to the infirmary for supplies and help.

Jim does not make sure he's still breathing. That would be the opposite of the point. He just eats his ice cream, one leg swinging happily, as he watches Wilford pass out.

'You'll never learn, will you?'

This is said in a conversational tone. Such a shame Wilford is not awake enough to hear it.

Fortunately, there is a human doctor coming back with the crash bag.

"What happened, Jim?" he asks, putting on gloves and checking for signs of breathing.

"Right, Mark, no breathing, no pulse. Start chest compressions while I get the defib on."

Mark does as instructed. CPR on a human is not so much different to CPR on a dog. But different enough that it's not exactly second nature yet.

"This guy said it was a nut allergy," Mark says, trying to talk and count at the same time. "I don't know what a nut allergy looks like."

'No, I didn't.'

Mmm, ice cream.

'I said I didn't know what it was, but that's one possibility among several others. He's not swollen up though, so it's probably unlikely.'

"Jim, give us a hand, please?" Guppy says, applying the defib pads. "You ever used a bag and mask before?"

Mark takes the time to get a better look at the patient. He's a wreck, above and beyond his sudden inability to breathe. He's dirty, he's been bleeding at some point. This man has not had a good day.

"What were you guys doing?"

'No, thank you,' he says to Guppy. He's busy, you know? He's only halfway through his sundae.

'We went for a drive in the desert. Maybe he breathed in sand.'