ichoosefight | IC Contact

[Are you kidding, that thing came out of nowhere.

She didn't even try to warm it first. And Tim's about to whine about what a botched job the Techs did on his new spleen before it catches up to him that, hey, Steph might not know he was ever missing one in the first place. Unless she had taken to reading medical files, and if that's the case

then he really didn't know her well, did he? At all? After all, he worse than dirt at anything having to do with her, or so she'd said. And it was true. And that's a circle of thought he visited like, what, twice a day?]

I don't have a fever.

[-is not what he meant to say, wow. He's preoccupied trying to tuck his shirt back in- yes, tucked in all neat like the rest of him isn't.] I mean, I don't need the- I'm not gonna catch pneumonia, Steph, I'll call someone when I feel bad. [Which he had.] Steph, I seriously don't want to walk. I feel as old as Ra's should be. And you can't carry me.

[ Steph had not taken to reading medical files. In fact, she wasn't in the habit of reading any sort of files on any of her friends. She knows what it's like to have someone know things about you that you didn't tell then, and she isn't fond of the feeling.

When he says he doesn't have a fever all of the concern hidden beneath professionalism bubbles to the surface and is clear on her face. He's not well, and she can't imagine him getting better in this place. He would hide out here until the fever cooks his brain, and he might not come back this time. She has been by Loki's side when it happened to him. She had burned the body because he had asked her to.

It was one of the longest nights of her life. ]

Can't I? Never stopped me before.

[ She sends out a quick text to Loki, because Tim is probably right. But she's damned if she isn't going to try. The supplies are stuffed back in her backpack along with the few clothes, and though it won't zip up all the way she swings it over her back and secures the shoulder straps.

Then she walks around to pick Tim up bridal style, bracing herself to take more weight than her muscles are really okay with. Lift with your legs, Steph! ]

[To be honest, it felt like Steph had been in this room for a lifetime now. When her expression shifts, Tim can't remember if it was recent because of something he'd done or said or if she had marched in with it. It makes him whine- actually whine, kind of hum out a dry little noise from the back of his throat like a pouting kid does. He quits his fidgeting and reclines against the wall and lets his head hang as she texts. And then he thinks oh my god she's going to drop me before she even finishes packing up the untouched soup and all those medical supplies that should

-probably-

be in the clinic. But didn't she say something about working with them or something? So Tim thinks he can give her a pass. Tim mumbles something not even he can make out when Steph slips over to him, but he figures it's a "seriously, don't-". There was no way to sway her from her resolve, so all Tim can think to do is to quit freaking when she gets her arm under his legs. Deadweight and the occasional flinch- and oh my god, Steph, please don't drop the boy.]

[ It's all for a good cause.

He weighs less than he should but more than she can really carry. Her breathing is strained and her steps slow, but she manages to get to the doorway before stopping to lean against the frame. She figures if she leans back slightly then even if she drops him he'll just fall on her. The whole time she texts with one hand, and she has to make sure she doesn't drop that either. Loki should be coming to help. It'll all be okay. They'll get through this and live to fight another day. ]

[He's surprised the effort doesn't fall through in the first three steps. The more he worries about how much that potential drop to the hardwood floor will feel against his sore bones, the more tense he gets and so it isn't long before Tim has his eyes closed just to relax. Keeping his head up in this position is near impossible too, and Tim is soon resting it on whatever part of Steph's shoulder or chest he can find to be less intrusive. And then he opens his eyes again.

It's slow going. He's feeling sick from the movement. So thank god Steph doesn't have the mind to haul him through the hall and out the building, but-]

're you texting? Why not speaker? Put me down before you hurt yourself. [Because he's bracing himself again despite his best efforts not to, because he knows this wasn't going to work out as well as they both had hoped-] I owe you for this only if I don't get a concussion out of it.

Click to continue...

IC Contact

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;