2019-09-25 - Breaking a Fever

Ignacio has kept up his part of the bargain. He let Itzhak know he's not dead. He even talked to Roen which went super well. He's been staying at the Mallard house where his ACME pocket healer has been defending his obstinate detoxing ass as he fights off a fever, and has been hallucinating on and off.

The hard part about Gray Harbor is who can really tell if it's a hallucination or a mentalist seeing through the fabric of reality? Once realizing this Ignacio's been huddled against the side of the tub sitting on the bathroom floor in his shorts, and a towel wrapped around his head and shoulders like a runaway Polish grandmother.

Finch comes in from the hallway with an armload of towels, a few washcloths, and a cup full of ice. The water is running in the tub, not hot and not cold, just barely lukewarm. They need to bring the fever down, but not shock him into a heart attack at the tender age of 26. She sets down the towels nearby, and the washcloths on the little tray on one side of the tub, and the cup on the sink. "Come on, Figgy, we need to cool you down. Out of the clothes and into the bath. Slowly. I'll help you in."

Ignacio is shivering. At least he's stopped throwing up and has rekindled his love for pancakes as the perfect food. Finch is either loved or cursed because Ignacio is one of those folks in town who has been rebuilt like a quilt and is entirely self-conscious about it. Not with her. Oooooh lucky you inheritor of the mess of a human being.

Looking up at Finch like some sort of miracle worker (which she is to be fair), he asks, "H-how do you run a fever and ffffffucking freeze?" He knows the answer to this one. He jsut doesn't like it. Sniffling he sways and squints at her when she calls him 'Figgy' He drops his boxers and climbs into the tub carefully. "A'ight I can be bribed." Everything feels dreadful. "hey Itz got back t'me... while I've been contemplating remodeling."

"Remodeling?" Finch asks, as she helps him lower down into the water. "Easy now, don't shock yourself with it, your body temp is so high it's going to feel crazy cold to you, even though the water is like 88 degrees." When he's settled, she wets one of the washcloths and then pours the cup of ice into it, wrapping it up to apply it to Ignacio's forehead gently. She worries. He was having a hard enough time detoxing, and dealing with his sudden onset mentalism, and now this?

Ignacio is damn lucky he's had Finch keep his neurons from entirely shorting outwhich spared him at least one trip to teh ER. Eeeh so Itzhak was right about you sipshit you risk giving yourself a seizure.

OH those eyes are huuuuuge and the air comes hissing through his teeth. Focus on something. Anything. Aaaaaaaaah Shitshitshitshitshitshit. There's a whine and it might not be coming from his face and he's trying hard to shut down his mental connections withthe world but it's too damn hard to do both.

He pulls his knees up murmuring, "Dios mio they m-m-make thesem-m-moments look sssso much sexier in teh movies..." Eyes closed and bitterly he hisses, "They liiiiiied to me."

Finch puts a hand to the side of his face, gently, looking at him with those huge dark eyes of hers, wishing she could just will him better. But whatever this is, it's resisted her spiritual healing abilities entirely. The best she can do is sooth some of his neurons to make the shock of the colder water less painful for him. "Shhhh. Don't talk. Look at me, focus on me. Listen to my voice, ok? Just my voice, shut out everything else." She dabs the ice-laden cloth around his face and neck to try and bring his temperature down. Fevers are dangerous. If she can't break it, he's going to a hospital. "What did you talk to Itzhak about?"

Ignacio shivers and tries to remmeber what August told him to do. Something about being run over with a car? Not it but it does have a certain appeal right now. Find a fucking happy place. And then Finch's hands are on his face and his world realigns focusing on her, well, in and out of focus.

Taking a slow, deep breath he follows her voice, the words, the face of the woman that is risking a lot on him. Somewhere August's word She's taking a huge risk too echo around his head in the reminder of what he knows to be true. He aims for as casual as humanly possible, "Oh, w-w-wll he'ssss in Sssseattle and is not ...dead. And... calles me a putz sooooo" Focusing. there we go. "So that means he is healthy. Sounds like it went really... rough though." He winces and pulls his knees to his chest. breathing. Breathing good. "Need to jsut like not die and ... be ready inc-c-case they come back fucked up right?"

Finch grimaces and nods. "Yep, and we need you to get healthy so you can take care of me if I need to take care of them, mi cielo." She's been learning Spanish with an app. My sky might not make sense to anyone else, but she is his little bird, and he is her sky. She bends in to kiss his forehead gently, then starts scooping handfuls of water over his shoulders to try and acclimate him to the water temperature.

Ignacio seems to shiver less as his body angrily, but eventually starts to adapt, or tries to. The affectation brings an arch of an eyebrow and it draws a tired, lop-sided smile from him. His hand lifting to hers. His Spanish is a bit off from teh very polite Duolingo app she's been using, and though tired, there's an ease to the wrods shaping them in a half mumble. He does translated for the behinner , "Little Bird, I can let you talk to me like this forever. But know I could not and I will not do this without you." Sometimes the author has some words. Turning his head he presses a kiss to her palm and then rests his cheek back in it. "I had a good talk with Roen."

Finch smiles at him, but it's strained with worry over him. She strokes his cheek with her thumb ever so gently. "Good. He can help you with this stuff that I can't. I can feel all the living things around me but this brain talking stuff? I can only reply when one of you links me in. Not my power set I guess." She chuckles then. "We sound like comic book characters. Don't we?"

She stands then and shucks off her shorts and tee, down to her skivvies, to climb into the tub with him. If he has to suffer in a tepid bath, she can suffer with him. The underthings are for Gran's sake should she wander in of course. "Miss Mags misses you playing with her. She's been moping. Can you understand her too? Or just people?"

It may take all his effort to be vaguly humerous, but it helps. "Weeeeell you look like one and I definiately fall down like one." Being devoid of underthings has never stopped Gran from walking in on him. Well, ya know, good for her. She's a woman of the world There's nothing new to see here. Well...all the scars are a new edition but not necessarily a selling point. When Finch climbs into the tub he murmurs, "This is a bad idea." If only this was more paranoid bouts of over caution.

"Miss MAgs misses me? Awww, squirly girl. Ya know... I dunno. This is happening and I'f ... kinda been tripping balls like mad on and off so even if I did hear her tlaking to me?" He slouches back against her like his human security blanket. "It doesn't make it true... though... I could see about teaching her to play cards."

Finch wraps her arms around him tenderly, supporting him so he can lie back comfortably, and applying the cold compress to his forehead now and then. She kisses his shoulder. "I'm a woman. We can live nine months with a damned parasite inside us, a little flu will barely phase me. It's you menfolk that seem to be on the verge of expiring with the sniffles," she notes with a chuckle. At least he can't see her worried expression from here. "Just try to relax a bit. Feel my heart beating against your back, breathe in time with it."

Ignacio focuses on not-dying. It's his job today. Do not die. Then Finch is talking about parasites and his eyes snap open vaguely frightened. "You're" Yup and there's the coughing fit from not being entirely upright. Like his lungs are trying to crush him from inside. "You...frighten me times." Slow breaths. There we go. Dear lord between burning up like an 82' pacer trying to drag the strip and the cough it might be obstinate will alone keeping him alive. Curling back agains ther there's a small whine, "This is worse than the time I got that paper cut... I told her take the whole damn finger it's over but the lady at Office Max wouldn't do it."

That gets a quiet laugh from Finch and she just hugs him very gently. She adds some more cold water to the tub, because he's turned it too warm with his feverish heat radiating off him. "Once we get this fever down we can go curl up in bed until your stomach decides you can handle some soup again, ok?" she murmurs quietly.

Ignacio is so going to have fever dreams of being attacked by origami birds papercutting him. Noooo tiny cranes leave me alone! Yeah living with him is fun. Still, though he feels like he's baking like a potato in his own skin there's the sound of her laughing and the ghost of a smile makes an appearance. "I like everything about that plan starting with my stomach... not hating me." His hand gives her shin a squeeze and there is something of dire importance he's got to ask. "Did you on purpose make your toe nails match your hair?" Yeah. These are the things he may some day go to his grave wondering about. Some people mind is a temple, and his is an amusement park. Whoo boy.

"Of course I did. I'm not a barbarian," Finch quips back at him, wiggling her toes up out of the water. "I just want you to feel better, Figgy. I hate it when you're hurting." She holds him just a smidge tighter, knowing he's probably achy as all hell, then pushes his upper body forward a little so she can rub his back gently.

Ignacio sighs with that feeling where he wants to close his eyes but then the world is bright red and he's so damn dehydrated his eyelids feel more like sand paper. forcing himself to take a deep breath he murmurs, "I'm never... I don't think, gonna not hurt, Inch." He stays hunched up letting her rub his back as the war drums heed their battle anthem against him in his skull. "Promised you I'd do whatever to kick this shit. I'm not..." AWW, FUCK YOU NAUSEA WE'RE HAVING A MOMENT!!! "I'm... not going to let you down."

Finch rubs his back gently, trying to ease his symptoms. "Someday, I promise you Ig, we'll fix it. You deserve to be pain free." She'll continue tending him, getting him out of the tub, dried off, dressed, and into bed.