milliways_bar | (no subject)

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wilford warfstache

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Wilford's read the same line about six times, and he still can't remember what it says. Normally, he's able to go through case notes in an hour with Billy. It's late afternoon, and he's brought the stack of folders to the bar to try to get through them here. Maybe if he eats something, he'll be able to focus.

If he doesn't puke first. The irony is harsh, even if he can't focus well enough to recognise it. He tries to eat another bite of rice, but he nearly gags as soon as it's in his mouth.

He can't do this. He should have known he'd be useless, but he thought maybe this time it would be different. He slaps the folder shut and tosses it into the stack with the rest, and then pulls out his phone. He's able to focus just long enough to write two emails and queue them up to send as soon as he hits signal again.

On the bright side, he's not likely to be having any panic attacks any time soon, if only because he's too doped out to register anything that's going on around him.

[ooc: mild sexual content in link]

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Guppy is nearby, mopping up coffee he spilled all over the table.

Coffee sounds amazing right now. Can he have coffee with what he's on right now? He doesn't know. He never asked. Surely something that common would have been mentioned if it were contraindicated though.

It takes him a good minute to come to the decision that he wants a coffee. He tries to flag down a rat, but it just scurries right on by.

"Hey, hey!" he calls after it.

It must have air pods in.

Guppy glances up, and calls the rat back over.

"Two coffees please."

He finishes mopping and goes over to Wilford.

"What upset the rats?"

"Who knows," Wilford says slowly. His words are slightly slurred. He looks straight ahead at nothing for a few moments before rubbing his face. He's not exhausted, but he has no energy either. "Probably just fucking with me."

Probably not. Wilford knows he's just too damn slow and the rat probably had more important things to do than listen to what's going on behind him.

"You okay?" Guppy hands him the coffee.

"Peachy," Wilford says.

He takes the coffee, but doesn't drink it right away. It takes him a few moments to even realise that he has coffee. It takes him another few moments to remember that he wanted it, and that coffee is for drinking.

It also takes him a little too long to realise that it's too hot yet. "Shit," he hisses, trying not to spill any on himself as he flinches awkwardly.

Guppy eyes him.

"You get shot again or something?"

"Huh?" Wilford looks up and shakes his head. "No, not today."

He tries the coffee again, more careful not to burn himself this time. It takes a lot of effort to be careful when he's this blasted.

"You look really out of it." Guppy says. "Michael's not here, is he?"

"No, he's..." Where is he? "He's with Bill."

Either until Wilford equalises again, or he stops taking this shit. He intends to say as much, but instead just thinks about it so hard that he forgets to actually say it.

"Okay good." Guppy says.

He sips his own coffee and watches Wilford sceptically.

Coffee good. It doesn't seem to be helping much, but it gives him something to focus on that isn't words and reading.

Finally, Wilford looks over to Guppy, and seems a little surprised to see him.

"How long you been sitting there?"

It's like one second Guppy wasn't there, and then he was.

"Five minutes or so." Guppy says.

"Huh." Must have been a quick five minutes.

Something starts beeping. The sound repeats about three times before Wilford even notices it. It's coming from somewhere close. He looks around, eventually realising it's his watch.

"Shhhhhhut up," he says, trying to figure out which button to tap on the screen. He taps, and it goes silent, but he's not sure if he actually hit the right one.

"So, you gonna tell me whether you're high or I need to medically check out your reduced level of consciousness?" Guppy prompts, tapping the watch for him.

Edited 2019-04-13 21:33 (UTC)

"No, it's..." he shakes his head and waves his hand dismissively. "It's fine."

It's probably fine.

"If you say so." Guppy sips his coffee.

There's a lot going on right now. Guppy said something, but Wilford retained and processed not a single word of it.

"What?" he says after he realises this.

"What have you taken?"

Wilford thinks about the question. "I... don't remember. I'm just trying to get some work done."

His pile of files on the table sits completely neglected, because he can't focus on two words of any of it.

He's not on Prozac. That's all that matters right now.

"Well if it was meant to help with work, it doesn't seem to be working."

"No, it's fucking not," Wilford agrees slowly.

He hates this shit. It never works, no matter what they put him on.

"You look like I felt last time I got my meds switched." Guppy says, sipping his coffee.

"Uh-huh," Wilford says.

He rubs his face, stopping when he realises a grave error.

"Shit," he hisses. He looks down at his shirt, pulling the fabric tight to get a better look at it through one eye.

Contacts were a mistake today.

"What?" Guppy asks.