milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[OOM: Room 75. The Demon in the Bottle.]

Down the stairs from the guest rooms, Wellard catches himself with the bannister on the bottom from a stumble. A deep breath as he straightens with a gritted-teeth wince. He is pale- well, more so than usual. (Months at sea did not even darken his complexion.) Shaking, he sinks into a seat at a booth, head in his hands.

Ivan the wait rat comes by, and just sits silently there until Wellard makes a muffled request for tea. He is not about to try anything else at the moment.

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Archie's got his own tea, as usual. The mun's just too lazy to give him a proper entrance post. Anyway, he sees the boy coming down the stairs looking like he's got one hell of a hangover and makes his way to the lad's booth, a suspicious but concerned look on his face.

"Mr Wellard?"

Startled, surprised eyes look up to Archie. Wellard stares at him for several long moments, before finally-

"... Yes sir?"

Too pale, his eyes quite glazed...

"Are you quite well, Mr Wellard?"

Ivan thankfully delivers the tea at this point, so there is enough of a distraction of Wellard taking the cup and toying with it.

"... I am, Mister Kennedy."

There's a time-honored technique dating back to the dark ages which involves the use of a very pointed silence to draw out more information that has been volunteered. It has worked on Archie himself a number of times.

So he simply sits and stares at the boy.

Pointedly.

Wellard's eyes are on his cup of tea, until he finally closes them in a wince, one shaky hand letting to to rub at his face. Other times, he might have been able to ignore the look. Right now he hurts to much to try-

But not enough to admit to much of anything.

"I am not feeling well, Mister Kennedy. It should pass."

"Have you sought out a healer?"

More pointed staring in the guise of sipping tea serenely.

"... The Bar gave me something. I should be well enough, sir."

The answer to Kennedy's question would be a 'no', then.

He's still eyeing him. That's not like to stop any time soon.

"Bar often knows what's best for us. She likes taking care of her people, I think."

"... Most likely quite so, sir. She has been nice to me."

For a given value of nice. She could have been so much worse. Wellard rubs his eyes again, and glances up at Kennedy.

"That's good."

A small pause, still eying the boy.

"She's susceptible to flattery."

"... So Jason has also told me, sir." A ghost of a smile, and Wellard shrugs, sipping his tea.

More careful consideration.

"You do know that as your superior officer, I could order you to tell me what is going on, but I will not, seeing as there is little use for rank here and I wouldn't dothat sort of thing anyhow."

A small pause.

"I do wish that you would tell me though."

Wellard's hands clench suddenly on his cup of tea, and he looks up at Kennedy, panic and fear flashing through his dark eyes.

"I- I am not well, Mister Kennedy, sir." He bites his lip, pale.

"Not doing well at all, sir. And- ... and it soign to get worse, sir." Wellard closes his eyes.

"How is it going to get worse, Mr Wellard?"

His voice is oh so patient.

"And what can we do to help?"

He grits his teeth, hands shaking on the teacup.

"Bar- she gave me some. Not enough. She said she wouldn't. Not enough, but she wouldn't let me go totally without."

Wellard's pale skin is starting to look a bit green. Maybe the tea was not such a good idea.

click There is a breif silence while Archie silently reels off every curse word he knows in every language.

"Laudanum isn't it? Clive was giving you laudanum wasn't he? The bloody drunken fool."

Archie's eyes go cold and hard, he's not got a very high opinion of the ship's doctor. Obviously.

Wellard closes his eyes, and nods slowly.

""

There is a twist of shame within him. Even if some of this could be blamed on Clive-

It all comes back to him for what happened, does not it?

Please excuse Archie while he rages silently at them for a while. Sawyer, Clive, Hobbes, Randall, he'll even throw Simpson, Don Masseredo and Keane in for good measure.

"It is a vile substance, Mr Wellard, and he did no more good by giving it to you than the did the beating that you recieved. We are well rid of those people, Mr Wellard."

Yeah, he's still pissed.

"Better off here and dead, sir?" In other times it might be a snotty answer. Right now, hands shaking and complexion still green, Wellard honestly means it.

"If- If I had known anything about this, Mister Kennedy- I think I might have taken the pain as it was, without any help. Better that than this, sir."

Archie looks at him sharply and then nods.

"For the beating you had, unjust as it was, you ought to have had the wounds dressed and been given some willowbark tea, which is vile itself, but it doesn't leave you ill when you stop taking it. Laudanum was wholly unnessecary. That he gave that to you displays an unacceptable laxness in his duties. Most unacceptable."

It feels good to finally be able to actually say such things.

"I've had willowbark tea- it is not that..." Wellard looks distinctly green, and shoves back from the table, stumbling for the back door.

He has only had tea today, but that is not doing a good job staying down either. Wellard manages to make it out the back door before he looses the contents of his stomach.

Jason has wandered in from outside, looking rested and pleased.
Why wouldn't he? There would be more than enough bunnies to hunt next month from last night's work. He spots Wellard and grins, heading over armed with water and what looks like a carton of Chinese takeout. Bar is love...

"Hey Wellard, how's it going?"

A twitch and a startled look up at Jason, before Wellard makes himself nod.

"... I am fine, Mister Jason. Fine."

Repeating something makes it true, right? With a shaky hand he rubs at his eyes.

Jason digs into the carton with his chop sticks and shovels some lo mein into his mouth.

"Liar. Come on, what's up? You don't look so good."

Despite his easy going approach, his eyes bore into Wellard, much like a predator watching its prey.

Wellard's nose wrinkles at the smell of the lo mein, but he hardly glances at the odd box.

"... I'm just a bit under the weather. It will pass." Quietly, biting his lip. His tea arrives, (Ivan gives Jason a glare), and Wellard holds it carefully with shaky hands.

There is an brealy audible growl towards Ivanhoe as a warning before he turns his attention back to Wellard.
He leans forward, nose twitching ever so slightly at the sickening smell coming from the shaking man.

"You're shaking..."

Wellard blinks, and stares at Jason.

"I said I wasn't doing well. It will pass." Teeth clenched slightly.

Jason frowns, eyeing Wellard.

"You're more than not doing well, you're a wreck."

The shaking, his pupils...he'd seen it before. He leans across the table, his voice calm and quiet, but firm.
"Wellard, what are you on."

Panic. Fear. Denial. And shame as well, all flicker across his dark eyes.

"I'm not on-!" Wellard catches himself with a wince, closing his eyes.

"... as much. Not as much. She wouldn't give me as much, sir. "

Jason watches him calmly, nodding softly.

"She's watching out for you, it's her job. She wouldn't let you go cold turkey without someone watching you. What is it that you've been taking?"

His eyes are still closed, and his hands tight on his cup of tea. Good thing the cups are sturdy, here.

"... Laudanum. The doctor aboard ship gave it to me after- ... after I was hurt. It still hurts."

Jason stares off, running the term through his head. Surprisingly there is more in there than he lets on.

"Morphine. That's right, it was pretty well used in your time. They turn it into heroin on the streets in my time. It's a nasty drug."

He reaches over and lays a hand on Wellard's wrist. "It's working it's way out of your system, that's why it hurts. You're taking less than you're used to, aren't you? Feeling shaky? Sick? Eyes and nose watering?"

Far from a doctor. He's seen it all before; in clubs, alleys, in his own bed...

"... She gave me less." He mutters quietly, pulling his hand away from Jason. Wellard finally opens his eyes again, but they're fixed resolutely on his cup of tea.

"Very sick." Quietly. "... and its doubtful to get better, isn't it?"

Jason gives him a sad smile.

"Eventually, but it'll take time. It shouldn't last too long. You need help, come talk to me. Or my friend, Nathaniel. He went through the same thing you are when he got off heroin. It helps to have some support."

He waves Ivanhoe over and whispers something.
"Until then, keep yourself hydrated. It'll help a little bit. Not much, I'll admit, but at least you won't be feeling like complete shit."

He retrieves a bottle of Gatorade from Ivan and passes it to Wellard, still looking concerned.
"This stuff helps a lot if you're dehydrated...it doesn't taste great, but you'll feel a little better after drinking it."

Wellard eyes the bottle of Gatorade. Surely anything such a neon blue in color cannot be safe to drink.

"... If you say so, sir." He sets the bottle down close at hand.

"The same thing?" Wellard glances up at Jason carefully.

Jason nods.

"Worse actually. I don't see you whoring yourself out for your next fix yet."

Wellard blinks, and stares at Jason.

Such a concept was around in his time, and Wellard was a sailor. While he would not talk of such things- he understands the concept.

And thank God that never happened to him.

Jason stares fixedly at Wellard to make his point.

"Just make sure you let someone help you and get off that stuff, ok?"

"... The Bar is helping me, sir." A quiet sigh, and Wellard rubs at his eyes again.

"She did not give me as much, and will continue to give me less. So she said."

"Good. She won't give you more than that. But Wellard, if you really feel like you're losing it, come see me ok? If I can't help, I sure as hell can hold you down so you can't get anything until it passes."

"I left it in my room." He mutters through clenched teeth, eyes closed again.

"Could not stand to be up there still, with the bottle, so I left."

Jason smiles.

"Good man. You're doing really well, Wellard. Just keep it up. And really, say the word and I'll take it away from you and you won't get it back until your next dosage."

Lap.

Fox.

Quiet grumbling noises, because she tripped getting off the bed and feels stupid.

Wellard blinks, and there is a murmured apology to the fox, one hand brushing her fur. When Ivan returns with his tea, he will order some food for her. Doubtful anything for himself- it is unlikely he can keep it down right now. But Ako will be feed.

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