[Although he himself knows he's going to be interrogated later for this, Vash won't be, and that's fine. Their group makes some... decisions when it comes to friends and loved ones. And Ain also makes some decisions when it comes to his health, it's fine. The heat is radiating off of him, and he's trying to keep walking so that he doesn't worry anybody.
Where they're headed is through something resembling an apartment building, but underground. Were they to have gone down a different hallway downstairs, it would've been a workshop filled with various parts, bits, and bobs; Ain has a feeling they're up here because Eve is about to make him lay down as if he's on death's doorstep. Pfft. He's not that close to death, he's had two whole meals in two whole days and spent most of that time flying with heavy cargo, he's like, fine?
(Ain is not, in fact, fine. And they are, in fact, going to a room which he recognizes now as his old bedroom in their underground factory-apartment situation their group built up when they first moved here. If his head weren't foggy, he would've known that immediately.)
Vash gets instructed to sit down at a plain desk with a plain chair, nothing special about it other than some old photos on it — despite the disuse, the place has been kept dusted and clean — and Ain, meanwhile, is told in no uncertain words he's laying down and not to get up again. So.
He just. Does. He gets into a small, old, kind of creaky bed that no longer really fits him because he's six feet tall and his wings have doubled in size since he was last in it, it feels like... and then the sickness finally hits him in full force and he groans. Everything hurts. Everything is on fire.]
Stay here. He needs medical attention, and you need to not use that arm for now. I'll be back. Keep him awake.
[And, just in case either of them try to fuck off for some reason, Eve will leave two little drones here to watch them. Beebeep, they say. :3c]
no subject
It's okay. Ms. Queen is nice.
[Although he himself knows he's going to be interrogated later for this, Vash won't be, and that's fine. Their group makes some... decisions when it comes to friends and loved ones. And Ain also makes some decisions when it comes to his health, it's fine. The heat is radiating off of him, and he's trying to keep walking so that he doesn't worry anybody.
Where they're headed is through something resembling an apartment building, but underground. Were they to have gone down a different hallway downstairs, it would've been a workshop filled with various parts, bits, and bobs; Ain has a feeling they're up here because Eve is about to make him lay down as if he's on death's doorstep. Pfft. He's not that close to death, he's had two whole meals in two whole days and spent most of that time flying with heavy cargo, he's like, fine?
(Ain is not, in fact, fine. And they are, in fact, going to a room which he recognizes now as his old bedroom in their underground factory-apartment situation their group built up when they first moved here. If his head weren't foggy, he would've known that immediately.)
Vash gets instructed to sit down at a plain desk with a plain chair, nothing special about it other than some old photos on it — despite the disuse, the place has been kept dusted and clean — and Ain, meanwhile, is told in no uncertain words he's laying down and not to get up again. So.
He just. Does. He gets into a small, old, kind of creaky bed that no longer really fits him because he's six feet tall and his wings have doubled in size since he was last in it, it feels like... and then the sickness finally hits him in full force and he groans. Everything hurts. Everything is on fire.]
Stay here. He needs medical attention, and you need to not use that arm for now. I'll be back. Keep him awake.
[And, just in case either of them try to fuck off for some reason, Eve will leave two little drones here to watch them. Beebeep, they say. :3c]