2019-09-24 - I Got Chills, They're Multiplyin'

There's a delay of about a minute and a half and then a muffled thump from the guest room. Some shuffling, a door creaking open, and more shuffling later, it seems Love is on the move. That or someone let the world's slowest serial killer into the house.

More shuffling and banging, and then the creaking of floors as a hopefully Dylan starts back towards the bedroom.

Mae opens her arms when Love finally arrives. She's not sure if she's hot, cold or somewhere in between. She just wants cuddles and soup.

Love slips into the master bedroom, assuming the door doesn't prove tougher than her thumbs. She eventually succeeds, and crawls over the bed to sink down wedged up next to Zoiya. "This is better. That bed in there smells like edibles." She's pale(r) and her braid is coming loose. Her phone is clutched in her hand.

It is several more minutes before Dylan shows up. He has clearly gone from cold to hot, now dressed down into just a pair of calf high, rainbow socks, boxers, and a t shirt whose back is pulled up and over his head like a hoodie before he decided it was too hard to take it all off. He also is carrying a pot - yes, the whole pot - of soup with a few big spoons.

Mae stares at Dylan when he arrives, she glanced over at Love and then back to Dylan. "That's a lot of a lot of soup." She croaks, and then grimaces, pulling her phone from beneath her pillow.

Love watches Dylan walk into the room dressed like an extra from some kind of low budget Cornholio tribute. She smiles widely, despite her red nose, glassy eyes, and congestion. She would laugh, but laughing leads to coughing fits. Her face says it all. All of it.

"Wow." Whispered, because saying those few words before used all her reserves.

"Sooouuuppp" Dylan states like a zombie declaring its love for brains. He puts it down on the side table next to Mae, before out his hand is held out expectantly. It is Loves reaction that gets a smile that would normally be so much fuller of life as he squeaks out, "working it" in regards to his outfit.

Another piece of paper hits the floor. Mae groans and reaches for the NyQuil to turn off the sketching that can't happen off of her brain. In doing so she completely lays on top of Love for about three seconds, smooshing her while she picks up the green bottle.

SNEEZE

A faint groan comes from Mae as she tries to bury her face into the bed. "Kill me."

Love groans when she's draped across like a maxi dress wearing body pillow. "Blergh." She says/makes this sound and sneezes. Sorry Zoiya. Love wipes off the other woman's neck with a tissue. "Gimme a hit." She makes a lazy grabby hand of the Nyquil. "We need sippie cups for the soup." Talking is so raspy.

"Work it girl." That was probably for Dylan.

Mae turns her head, gazing at the soup. Oh the soup. The soup with no bowls. She contemplates. She considers. Then she manages to crawl toward the pot. She peers inside and frowns. "I'm gonna go get us some solo cups." She rasps. Did she notice that someone sneezed on her neck? Probably. But that's lost because when she eases off of the bed, she thuds to the floor instead of staying on her feet.

"Ow."

A full two minutes pass before she gets to her feet, she shakes her head, rubs at her shoulder. "I'm okay." She assures.. anyone? Then she's shuffling toward the long hallway.

Love reacts belatedly, leaning over. "Mae, you ok, babe?" She asks way later than most people would, but a flu slows everything down. It's the mucus. She asks probably after Mae's out in the hallway. "Okay."

She flops back into the pillows, her back to Dylan. "You ok, D?" She might fall asleep before he answers her. Cat nap.

There is a spectacular crash in the kitchen. A pot fell over, and it was fucking loud.

Silence.. "I'm okay." More silence...

"Ow."

Then the shuffling noise starts again as Mae makes her way back to the bedroom. She found some sort of cup, three of them. It'll do.

Dylan has seemed lost in his own world, tossing off one sketch pad to let it SMACK against the wall before he flops over to the edge of the bed. Out an arm reaches trying to snag another one without having to get up. Poor Love might have legs flailing over top of her for a few seconds before he snags it.

A couple of minutes pass. Two more crumpled up blank pages. And when he speaks? He sounds ever so frustrated, almost angry with disbelief. "Something is really fucking wrong."

Mae is fully in the room when he speaks and she raises her eyebrows in his direction. "Did you just.." She tilts her head, no she was hearing things.

She dunks a cup into the soup, burns her fingers and dries off the outside of it with an unused napkin. She holds it out to Love and Dylan respectively and then gets herself a cup.

She moves to the tossed off sketch to pull it open and look at it.

Love reaches across the bed, her hand spidering over Dylan's chest or shoulder. She finally rolls over with her phone in her hand, to peer over at him. "Whaswrong?" That was probably 'what's wrong', but enunciation is for chumps.

She squints, picks up a tissue, a fresh one, and sneezes. She's distracted, however, by a cup-o-soup. "Yesss. Thank you." Teamwork to feed them.

That tossed away sketchbook has nothing. Not a single line drawn. His brow furrows af Mae in an expression of confusion about what she had started to say. That hand of Loves drags him back down in the bed, all to stare up at the blank page he has in front of him. "I'm empty. I dont feel anything." His tone makes it sound far more serious than just those words.

The second one is tossed to his feet so he can take the cup of soup with one hand
.. and the Nyquil with the other. He just stares at them.for a long moment as he ponders which he wants first.

"Okay no, you're doing it. You're saying words in a string." Mae brings the sketch back to the bed, leaning in to look at Dylan. "Like more than a few?" She is about to open her mouth and say something profound and then.. sneeze, right in Dylan's face.

"Oops, sorry." She pushes the soup toward him gently. "That first."

Love squints. She looks at Dylan for a moment, then turns her gaze to Mae. "Yeah, he's doing it." Love didn't notice at first, but then Mae brought it up. She's not so out of it that she can't hear that. She lifts the cup to her mouth and takes a careful sip. Her hands both wrap the cup, her dark nails clicking against it.

"It'll come back. The ideas will come back."

Well, distracted with face sneezing certainly helps to diffuse that frustration that he has at least temporarily. First the Nyquil. A big gulp is taken, more than just a normal dose, and all the while he stares at both of them like they are delusional
Soup in one hand, he slowly lifts up his phone. Type type type. He peers at them before pushing send as if expecting them to already know what he is going to send.

"You're saying words. Don't stop saying words." Mae reaches out to grasp Dylan's shoulder. She glances down at her phone, frowns and looks like she might sneeze again, but she doesn't, she gets a tissue and she smothers it.

Back on the bed she goes and she flops over near Love. "He's typing when he could be talking."

Love squints again and struggles to sit up further. She manages it without spilling her soup, dragging her legs up the bed. She kicks her legs over the edge, sipping her cup of soup. "Dylan, use your words," she rasps into her soup, sipping again. It hurts, but tastes amazing after not eating for most of the day.

Up his lifts his soup, taking a long drink from it, and there is a worried frown curling to the corners of his mouth. It's hard to tell if it's because he's certain he needs to call the paramedics because Love and Mae are delirious, or because of that earlier frustration. He reaches out to grab a tissue, dabbing at his face to remove all that sneezery. "I always say words." He sounds dubious as to what they mean, features scrunching up before a hand lifts to tap against his head, "It's empty. I don't care if I'm /sick/, I should have stuff in here."

Mae is curled up now, she isn't really feeling like soup after all she went through to get it. She just watches Dylan, her eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, you do always say words, but not usually so many." She glances at Love. Surely she understands, is she really sick and stupid? She exhales and flings a forearm over her eyes and groans. "Dylan. You're pretty. Take more NyQuil."

Love turns around at that, her long, mussed braid swinging over her shoulder. She reaches up to scratch her neck, nails idly dragging down all those delicately inked tattoos. Love looks from Dylan to Mae. He speaks, doesn't seem to realize he's used so many words, but she's hearing it. "Yeah, you do, usually less though." She's quiet for a moment, like she's going to sneeze.

Seems to be a false alarm. "Draw what you see until your embellishments come back. Yeah, definitely more Nyquil." She glances down at her phone as it chimes, and taps one-handed, her thumbnail ticking over the glass.

"Nothing," He murmurs sorrowfully at Love's mention of draw what he sees, and his head just shakes back and fourth. More Nyquil? Yes, please. He reaches over to take another long swig of that medicine, and it has him going cross eyed before finally he thuds over on the bed, at least, thankfully, after he's put the mostly empty bottle back on the table. "You two are so silly." He reaches out to squeeze each of them on their shoulders, or at least as close as he can get without flailing around too much. He's down right sweaty, feet kicking and pushing off the covers until they are down at the foot of the bed... or even off of it.

Meanwhile Mae is cold and there go the covers. She is half asleep, half drugged on the NyQuil so she doesn't go after them. Nope, she shivers, pulling the pillow over her head. She sneezes under there, groans and then wraps her arms around her body. "I hate this."

With a flop, Dylan offers up an arm and part of a body to Mae to help keep her warm, while his foot sticks out far to the other side, off the bed, to help keep him somewhat cool. A loud groan comes from him, his eyes fluttering closed as he half dozes off, way too far overdosed on Nyquil to be any sort of sensible. "It's awful."

Love reaches up to touch Dylan's hand. "You'll be —" He thumps over. "Fine, babe." She laughs softly, coughs a few time. Ugh.

"Still mad," she coughs a little. "I didn't get it from kissing someone cute." Love moves off the edge of the bed, taking her soup cup. "I don't remember ever feeling this crappy." She slides toward the door, one hand on the wall as she makes her way along. "I don't really get sick often. I think it's payment."

"I'm gonna take a shower. And then I'm gonna text a boy, and make him bring me cake." She can barely eat soup.

"Cake?" Mae blinks a few times, flopping over on Dylan so she can get warm. "Cake." She can't find other words to go with it, so she just stays where she is. "You can kiss us later, since we're already sick. I think?" She burrows in now, her toes catch the blanket so her lower half is nice and toasty now after some maneuvering.

"Pretty sure I did get it from that." Comments Dylan, his hand lifting to wave vaguely off and towards Mae's direction, laying the blame squarely on her shoulders with a huff. And then when she speaks of texting a boy - or maybe it is cake - out comes an, "OoOoOooo" from Dylan, which would sound so much better if it didn't end in a hacking, coughing gurgle of noise.

"Definitely already sick." He appends on Mae's I think?, clearly not interpreting it right.

Mae is half asleep and drugged out, but she hugs Dylan tighter when he blames her for him being sick. She knows what she did. She makes a snorting noise and then sneezes when Dylan tries to be funny. She reaches and flops around to grab at Love briefly. "If you're going somewhere, be careful. If you get cake, bring some back." She flops back on Dylan. "Pretty sure I'm dreaming and that's why you're wording."

Love laughs again, at the kiss us later comment. She coughs a couple times and laughs again. "It's less sexy when it's snotty, sweetpeas." She glances over her shoulder. "Shut up." At the ooooo. She's still amused, though, and when she disappears into the hall she says, "At least you caught it the fun way."

"Cake," she confirms. "Text me later." She calls back, then disappears down the hallway. "I will."

Call? Bring some back? Yes. "Watch out for Godzillas."

It doesn't take long for Dylan to just conk out after stating, "Your delirious." to Mae about her and all those words she thinks he's talking. His eyes drift completely shut, tongue hanging out. Cake? He's probably dreaming about it already.

Mae sneezes again, but she manages to catch it with a tissue. She also doesn't vomit, but she does scoot scoot across the bed to get warm. Dylan has butt against him, and the rest of Mae. Sprawled out. Poor guy.