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Post by Mister Stewart on Jul 4, 2011 0:40:32 GMT -8
Mister Stewart started when he heard the sound - turning to watch as Ashlin tried to wake the fitful young man.
There was a long moment of silence after she spoke...more soft groans, a little writhing, a little hissing through his teeth...but then he finally opened his eyes - clearly frightened and his body giving a weird little jolt. He would have tried to sit bolt upright if she hadn't been holding her hand on his head...instead, he just blinked a few times, trying to clear the smoke from his vision.
"...Nnn...A...Ash...lin...?"
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on Jul 4, 2011 0:48:10 GMT -8
Her smile was warm and relieved now that Michael was finally awake, even if it wasn't the calmest of awakenings. "Shhhh, It's okay Michael." she said softly trying to calm the frightened man down; unconsciously she continued to stroke his hair. Had she been aware of her actions she might have been rather more embarrassed by them. It was one thing to do when he was having a nightmare, but it seemed different doing it when he was awake.
"We were worried." she had to speak around the knot in her throat. Michael was awake, and speaking, and everything was going to be okay now. They'd make sure of it.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jul 4, 2011 1:04:13 GMT -8
Numbly, Michael realized the strangeness of this situation...lying in his room in damp pants, rolled up on one leg, an ice pack pressed to his forehead as Ashlin stroked his hair. Were he more present, he might feel exposed, embarrassed - but he was still groggily, hoarse with smoke.
"...I...I'm sorry," he breathed, stormy eyes flicking briefly to Mister Stewart, then back to Ashlin. "I don't...wh-what...happened...?" He drew a deep breath, trying to steady - an uncomfortable rattle sounded from in his chest. At least his temperature seemed to be going down, slowly but surely.
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on Jul 4, 2011 1:10:39 GMT -8
Ashlin bit her lip, casting a nervous glance at Mr.Stewart. "I don't know." she told him morosely, wishing she had a better answer. "I heard you scream, and then found you unconscious in the tub. We managed to get you into bed, but you've been running a fever." She didn't add the nightmares, she was rather sure he'd know about those. And if he couldn't remember his bad dreams at the moment, well who was she to remind him of them.
"Do you need any water, I think I have a bottle in my bag. . . " she fretted, not liking how he sounded at the moment. She could feel his temperature beginning to drop though. That if nothing else was a relief.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jul 4, 2011 1:22:37 GMT -8
"I...I did...? A-ah. I...I did...didn't I?"
The memory was hazy, fuzzy - he remembered the cold water, and he remembered everything going black, but he didn't remember how or why. Slowly the bleariness was clearing from his eyes, his focus sharpening once more...the flush receding. He was coming back to himself...just not quite there yet.
"...Please? That...that would be...would be nice, if you don't mind," he rasped weakly, sluggishly shifting to try and sit up a little. His eyes strayed briefly to his nightstand, to the handkerchief - and then looked away sharply again.
Mister Stewart caught this, watching with concern.
How much sway have you given him over you...?
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on Jul 4, 2011 1:33:08 GMT -8
His apparent lack of recollection concerned her, had he hit his head when he'd fallen? He was looking a little more like himself now though, and it was enough to hold off her worry. For now at least. Busy as she was rummaging through her bag she missed his glance toward the nightstand and his cigarettes. Some part of her knew that if she had disliked the things when her encounter had just been a bad dream she would detest them now. They might even end up in the same category as doctors.
As she searched her hand brushed against something soft. Ashlin blinked, in all that had been happening she'd completely forgotten about the little hedgehog she had made for Michael. Deciding to hold off on giving it to him a bit longer she pushed it aside to grab what she'd been looking for. "Here you go." she said, handing Michael the green and purple water bottle. "Make sure to drink slowly." she cautioned.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jul 4, 2011 19:22:29 GMT -8
Nodding his thanks, he took the bottle, hand shaking around it as he lifted it to his lips. The water helped to wash the taste of ash and cigarettes from his mouth, removing a little of that hoarseness that was so prevalent just after he woke. He still didn't remember exactly what had happened...it was still all hazy, a far-off danger too close to home.
He handed the bottle back after a moment, clearing his throat a little before speaking. "...Thank you."
Michael could still feel it...ashes, caked in his hair, on his hands...absently, eyes unfocused for a second, he brushed a hand back through his brunette locks, trying to detect the grime that he just KNEW as there.
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on Jul 4, 2011 20:35:13 GMT -8
Ashlin was half tempted to help him with the water bottle when she saw the way his hand shook but held back, not wanting to make Michael feel like an invalid. Giving him a small smile she took back the water bottle. He sounded a bit better now.
"How are you feeling?" she asked in concern, one hand unconsciously twisting her necklace between her fingers. Ashlin wanted to reach out to him, but she was torn. It seemed to relieve him when he was asleep, but she knew Michael wasn't exactly comfortable with being touched. Ashlin on the other hand was quickly realizing she liked touching people. She was a physically affectionate person; a hug, a pat on the shoulder, anything to just show that she cared. She hadn't had much of a chance to explore that before, but now that she did. . .
She just didn't want to feel so alone anymore.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jul 4, 2011 21:02:41 GMT -8
Mister Stewart watched the boy like a hawk - paying attention to the way he stared down at his hand after brushing it through his hair, the troubled twitch to his eyes as he tried to recall precisely what was going on...and, no doubt, the soon-to-be antsiness starting to creep into his motions. Rainy days. Always rainy days.
"Oh...ah...I'm...." A beat. This wasn't a hard question, was it? Why the delay?
"I'm fine."
And then Mister Stewart maskpalmed.
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on Jul 4, 2011 21:21:36 GMT -8
The small smile Ashlin had managed to keep up since Michael had woken up slipped off her face at Michael's response. Fine? He had just woken up from a fevered nightmare, and he was fine? He was either lying to them or he was so used to being in terrible pain that for him this was fine. She didn't like either option.
Her expression was morphing into what could only be described as that of a kicked puppy when she was distracted by Mr.Stewart's movement. She blinked once, then twice. Had Mr.Stewart just . . . hit himself in the face? Why would he. . .? She glanced at Michael wondering if he understood why Me.Stewart had done that.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jul 4, 2011 21:36:53 GMT -8
Michael couldn't help his kneejerk response to being asked how he was doing...he tended to cover up, minimize his own importance. He wasn't quite present enough to fully consider the kicked-puppy look - but he DID catch the maskpalm Mister Stewart did. He heaved a little sigh, realizing that one could cut the disbelief with a knife right now.
And then, somewhat dimly, he realized that Ashlin didn't understand what Mister Stewart had done.
"...He doesn't believe me," he explained, still not sounding quite like himself.
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on Jul 4, 2011 21:59:52 GMT -8
"Oh" she said, her mouth forming a small "o" shape. She didn't quite understand why hitting yourself in the face would mean that, but she was fine just accepting it as one of those things she never really got. It was nice of Michael to explain though. On the other hand she had no trouble understanding Mr.Stewart's disbelief, and with that reminder her expression went back to the kicked puppy look.
"Michael how are you really?" Ashlin was clearly upset at the idea of Michael suffering alone. She never had been any good at masking her emotions. "We just want to help."
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jul 4, 2011 22:12:59 GMT -8
"..She's right, Michael. We need you to be honest."
The sudden speech of Mister Stewart - quite out loud, and not worrying about Ashlin hearing him - hit home the point that Ashlin was trying to make, the look on her face even making his stomach clench through the haze. He drew a shaky breath, shutting his eyes and trying to focus. The smoke wisped about behind his eyes...but for now, he tried to ignore it. He couldn't bear the accusing looks.
"...I...I still feel hot. My...my wounds are sore. My scars. And...my...my hair...my hands...they feel filthy." He drew a slow, rattling breath. "...My throat hurts. And I...." He stopped short, snapping his eyes open as he realized the last of it.
He felt...angry.
Why did he feel angry?
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on Jul 4, 2011 23:03:44 GMT -8
As Michael listed off his current state of well being or rather lack of it Ashlin couldn't say she was surprised; dismayed and concerned yes, but not surprised. The only thing that caught her off guard was the comment about his hair. "But you hair felt fine." she said sounding confused. She blushed when she realized she'd inadvertently admitted to Michael that she'd been touching his hair while he'd been asleep. It was one thing to let Mr.Stewart see her when Michael needed comfort, but she didn't want to make Michael feel uncomfortable with her. He didn't like being touched, she reminded herself once more. It made it easier to remember not to if she reminded herself.
"You should keep using the ice packet, it'll help with the fever." she told him, trying to change the subject from her little slip and focus on what was really important: getting Michael better. She bit her lip. "Is there anything you think would make you feel more comfortable?"
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jul 4, 2011 23:44:04 GMT -8
If he was at all embarrassed over the idea of her touching his hair while he slept, he didn't show any indication - perhaps he was still a bit far removed, still woozy and exhausted from his less-than-restful sleep. When she changed the subject, he merely lay back, shifting the ice pack back into position. As much as he would rather get up, move....
His body wouldn't have any of that.
But he wouldn't - COULDN'T go back to sleep.
"...I...I don't think so. I just...I just need to rest for a little while. And then...I can...I can get back to work...."
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