IC Inbox (v1.0)

[jumpthegun]

You've reached Dr. John Watson. Please leave a message.

Comments

@enhance; video

[devoutish]

[Alfie sounds and looks like absolute shit, but he pipes up from Fiona's end. His own tablet is God-knows-where.]

Just calling to say hello. Talk a bit.

[Talk distracts from the unbearable pain.]

[plundering]

Right.

[Fiona is running out of clever things to say.]

You doing okay over there?

[jumpthegun]

[No, he's not. But Alfie's doing worse, so he offers her a wan smile.]

All peaches and cream, yeah. I'm taking it you haven't been able to stop staunch the flow?

[He'd given Fiona what advice he could, earlier, but without actually being there, it's difficult to coach her through what needs to be done. Especially when they don't have even a semblance of the equipment they'd need.

And now they're calling to say hello and goodbye. Something tightens in his chest. This is a very stupid way to die here. It isn't fair.]

[devoutish]

A bit. We plugged it up. It's not gushing anymore.

[But it's still seeping out a bit, past the bandages they'd wrapped around it. It's pretty gross.]

[plundering]

[Fiona can't find the words to answer that question, so she's grateful Alfie does it for her. She clears her throat, and her voice is a little rough when she replies.]

Can't really get it to stop.

[jumpthegun]

[He hates this, her having to deal with that with only Royce and a little girl there.]

Have you been taking Vicodin for the pain?

[There's a part of him that wants to advise Alfie to OD, just go to sleep and never wake up.]

[devoutish]

Yeah. It's helped some, but I don't think it's quite strong enough to make it go away completely.

[His eyes flick offscreen for a moment, and he lowers his voice - maybe not enough to keep Royce from overhearing if he's close, but enough for at least Emily not to.]

Duster's shutting himself down. Emily's shivering in the corner.

[plundering]

I'll take care of Emily.

[She says it immediately, automatic.]

Don't worry about them.

[jumpthegun]

[John's heart wrenches, but there's only the flicker of a frown before he levels back to neutral.]

And Tifa's safe and well over with me and Quark. We'll see everyone's all right for when you get back, mate.

[devoutish]

Duster's good with her.

[But that's when things are going well.]

Fiona - you're gonna head back to Watson, yeah?

[He runs a thumb over the back of her hand.]

[plundering]

Yeah, I think—

[She nods, swallowing.]

Yeah. Royce and I might kill each other if I stay too long.

[jumpthegun]

I've got someone who's asked me to look at a frostbite injury down near the hospital. As soon as I'm finished with that, I'll head north to meet you in the middle, Fi. I don't want you on your own for too long.

It'd be handy if you let the spiders know to pop you into the police station or morgue, mate.

[devoutish]

[Alfie frowns deeply at that, making a noise in the back of his throat but not saying anything. He hadn't thought of that as an option, and he doesn't trust it.]

[plundering]

He's joking.

[And then, to Watson:]

I'll be fine. Don't worry about me.

[jumpthegun]

I was joking.

[Because the alternative is being despondent.]

And don't start that up. You know we're both gonna worry about you.

[devoutish]

[His eyes closed, Alfie raises his eyebrows.]

Fucking hypocrite. Isn't he?

[He gives Fiona a light nudge.]

[plundering]

[It doesn't get a smile from her, but she appreciates the usual joke.]

Yep. What else is new?

[jumpthegun]

I'm sorry, did you just admit you worry about me in a roundabout way, Alfie? That's new, I think. Definitely, yeah. [He's really trying to cheer Fiona here. Alfie... well, Alfie's going to die. He seems to be relatively at-peace with this.]

[devoutish]

Fucking insufferable. Why are we talking to you again?

[plundering]

[Fiona smiles just a little.]

Good question. Why are we?

[jumpthegun]

Because I've got a pretty face. [A pretty haggard face, but he'll play along since it is getting Fiona to smile.] Dunno why I put up with talking to the pair of you, really.

[devoutish]

I don't talk to men based on their pretty faces.

[jumpthegun]

But you think my face is pretty? Thanks mate! You're not s'bad yourself.