[Log] Sickness and Health Who: Bee, Gin Charlie When: October 2nd Where: The Dorms What: Gin Charlie finds his newest charge laid low. Bee reassures him. Warnings: None Open or Closed: Closed Observable: No
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Gin Charlie came down the hall with a hand on his sword hilt and a bottle of gin in his hand. He had been told he had a new bratling, but the kid hadn’t presented himself as Gin Charlie had expected he would. Heraclitus’s report had painted a serious enough young man. The dorm room in question was soon to be a double room; for now it housed only one. “Barnabas” was the name on the door, but “Bee” had been the name in conversation. Gin Charlie deduced it was probably a nickname.
He went in without knocking.
The large hound on the bed bounded off with a sharp bark. Gin Charlie shut the door. “Easy, dog,” he told it, voice gruff. It growled at him, low and harsh.
The figure balled up under the covers lifted its head. “And you are?”
It was a young voice and a young face, and Gin Charlie had his doubts, for a moment, about the male gender he’d been given. “I’m Gin Charlie, master of the dorms. Call off your dog.”
“Cooter.” Slender fingers snapped and the voice dropped to a commanding tone. The dog obeyed, backing off slowly. Bee raised himself on an elbow; his face was pale and his features pinched with pain. He had a long braid, coming frizzy and unravelling, and brown hair and grey eyes. He looked young.
“Where’re ye hurt?” Gin Charlie came closer, bent to crouch beside the bed.
“I...it’s nothing. Stress.” Bee grimaced and oozed back down onto the bed. “I’m...I’m alright,” he managed, teeth clenched.
Gin Charlie didn’t believe that, not from the way Bee twitched and curled tighter. The hound put his white muzzle up on the bed and whined. “Tell me what’s wrong,” Gin Charlie ordered again, and put his free hand out for the dog to sniff.
“It’s...nothing you can do.” Bee suddenly relaxed a fraction, uncurling. He sighed a little, and cleared his throat. “It’s a normal response to stress, actually. My body just, exaggerates it. I’ll be fine in a day or two. But...if I could get some hot water for tea or maybe some soup?”
Gin Charlie nodded. “I can do that. Are you sure you don’t need a healer?”
“Oh, no, I’m sure.” Bee hesitated, then added, “A hot-pack might be very nice, too.”
“That too.” Gin Charlie got to his feet and ruffled the dog’s ears. Cooter wagged his tail. “Good dog. He be any trouble?”
“Oh, no! He’s a good dog. I’ll make sure he gets in no-one’s way,” Bee hastened to assure him, looking contrite and earnest.
Gin Charlie nodded, and turned to leave. It was an easy task, really, and hardly had he set out to look for these things when a drone bobbled through the commons and met him with a tray: hot water in a little teapot, a tea-cup, a mug of hot vegetable soup, and a sand-pack with a bright flowered cover. So Molly liked this one, hmm? Gin Charlie gravely thanked the drone, took the tray, and headed back to the room. He wondered why Molly would like this one so early. Maybe it was the dog - she liked animals. She didn’t always tell him why.
Gin Charlie expertly opened the door with full hands and kicked it shut again. The dog was up on the bed again, head resting on Bee’s hip, curled against his back. Bee lifted his head and watched as Gin Charlie brought the tray to the bedside table. Bee struggled up into a sitting position, tunic wrinkled and riding up high on bare thighs. He bent down to his pack, resting beside the bed, and Gin Charlie wrinkled his nose.
“Blood?”
“Yes, but it’s not anything to be concerned about.” Bee glanced up briefly, grey eyes earnest. “I would tell you if it was,” he added. “I am healer, and I know what I can and cannot handle, especially within my own body.”
He pulled out a small glass bottle of dried leaves and a thin cheesecloth bag. He measured out the crackly leaves with care, placed them in the bag, and laid it in the cup. He poured the hot water over it and took up the hot sand-pack while the tea brewed. He laid down again, heat-pack pressed against his back. “Thank you. I’ll be fine in a day or two. Probably two.”
Gin Charlie nodded, though he wasn’t certain and he was very curious. “The Scientists didn’t tell me ye had any special conditions.”
“Ah, well, I don’t, exactly. Not where I’m from, anyway. I can tell you, but I’d rather it was not spread around,” Bee confessed, one eye shut against the pillow, looking up at Gin Charlie fearlessly, quietly. Gin Charlie decided the kid had never been mistreated at the hands of one over him.
“I think that would be a good idea.” Gin Charlie nodded, and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Cooter’s tail thumped against the mattress, and they both reached to pet the dog at the same time. Gin Charlie snorted, Bee giggled, and they began to talk.