Dec 12 19:07:30 105 PA

From Chronicles

The current game time is: Sat Dec 12 19:07:30 105 PA

The Next Day Isabeau, Korban, Abigail

.... and so, Etienne leaves and Isabeau faints and Korban catches her. And that is the way the story ends the night before. Or is that so? Instead, what really happens is that after Etienne leaves Korban bends; putting his arms beneath the woman's knees and lifting her. He carries her to -- where else -- the bedroom -- although it has no romantic connotations this time. Instead he lays her lightly upon it, pulling the sheets up to her neck. He then drops his boots beside her and goes to retrieve the small object that she gave him. He does not open it though, a look of worry on his face as he sets it on a nearby table along with his gun. He then reaches out, first taking her pulse and then folding her hands gently over her belly. And then the watch begins. He is in no hurry. Fifteen minutes pass, and he finds a few errant locks of her hair to adjust. Thirty pass, and he finds his hand brushing across her cheek. An hour, and her hair is tidied again. Three hours, and he is beginning to look tired. Four, and he stretches out beside her. Six, and he slowly keels forwards; having originally going to peer at her breathing... but now he just passes out, face first into her belly. Zzzz.

The petite redheaded woman is oblivious to the fact that she's carried back over to her bed and settled in there. She doesn't even know which of the stubborn and snarly males in her life actually ended up doing the catching of her, though on some level she's likely aware that one of them did. Through the hours that Korban waits, Isabeau slumbers, peacefully and warm beneath the blankets. Though after a number of hours, and perhaps because of the weight of his head there upon her belly, she stirs a little. Faintly, briefly, but it's enough to count. A sleepy little murmur slips past her lips, and she stirs a little more, her lashes fluttering a few quick times before she manages to open her eyes. It takes her a moment to focus, yet then she turns her head to look to the zonked out waiting one. Even as a smile tugs at the corners of her lips, she lifts a hand to bring her fingers to lightly touch his hair, softly brushing her fingers through the locks of it. She doesn't move much other than that, piecing together what had happened which ended up with her back in bed. She's tired of being in bed. And tired of being sick.

Korban has bristly hair, and his frame moves just a tiny bit when it is touched. Both arms move a little, then flop across her body. Completely unconscious, he's largely heedless of where they go but it is unlikely to matter too much. Though, the left one is considerably heavier than the right for unknown reasons. Battle-honed, combat-ready reflexes... entirely fail to hear that murmur of her's and indeed he snores, and snores fairly loudly into her abdomen. It is only some ten minutes later that he begins to stirr himself; one eye opening and then closing. Gently, though a little suddenly his body rolls off of her own and he flops into his back to look up at the ceiling. "'Lo." He says, clearly not yet awake. "Feelin' better this morning?" It is a legitimate question. Really, considering that she fainted again last night. "You... have got t'stop passing out like that. One of these times, Etienne or I isn't goin' to be there to catch you." A half smile, really to say he's teasing her a little than anything else.

Even though he's laying half atop of her, the small woman doesn't seem to mind it too much. He's not on her chest, so it's not really bothering her breathing. Though that aspect of her health still isn't back to normal. Only once he's lifted himself from atop of her does she shift her position. Moving some, she squirms beneath the blankets to end up laying on her side next to him, and she slips one of her arms across him, nestlng close against him and sharing her warmth with him as willngly as she had before. "Mmm... not sure about better, but at least more rested. And hungry," she muses, her tone thoughtful in nature. Giving a slight shiver, she nestles closer against him, then peeks to him through her lashes. "I didn't do it on purpose," she says quietly, all cute and innocent, which is only about half intentional on her part.

Korban is for the record, still fully clothed. He is a little bit on the innocent side like that. One more part of the odd tapestry that is Korban. At first, his body gives no signs that he wants to get up -- just a long tired sort of yawn. Afterall, he didn't get anywhere near the sleep she did. "I think I'm goin' to have to go out and buy you sports paddin' of some kind. So when you do pass out again, you can just have a sleep where you hit the ground." A valid point! Gently he extrats himself from her as soon as she cuddles up, though not before brushing his lips across her forehead. His extraction is so that he can stand, peeling off his shirt for comfort reasons and tossing it aside before padding barefoot into the kitchen where his voice is heard once more. "I'd hate to serve you rations, so. Best be somethin' here to feed you." He must be in a good mood because a tuneless whistle begins to emerge as cupboards open close, and bang. "Where's doctor-lady? Maybe she can tell you how you are comin' along?"

Ah, well... innocence isn't a bad thing. Isabeau has her own innate innocence, after all, although that comes a lot from lack of experience. Lifting her head a little to watch him, a small smile touches at the corners of her lips at his yawn, and she lightly runs the fingers of one of her hands over his lower ribs a little. "Mmm... well, if it starts happening more often, then you can go shopping for sports padding for me," she comments, her eyes reflecting a sparkle of amusement in them. As he extracts himself, she gives a little moue and a bit of a murmur, but settles back amongst the pillows herself. Considering, even as she does, the benefits of getting up and following him. For now, though, she watches him. "There's some food... some in the fridge, and some in the cupboard above -- canned goods and whatnot. The lower cupboard has dry goods -- flour and sugar and oatmeal and the like. What're you looking to feed me?" she asks curiously, one of her eyebrows quirking upwards. "Oh, Abby's probably still over at the hospital... she works long hours," she adds, then lifts one of her shoulders in a bit of a shrug. Sniffing a little, she coughs a bit, then settles anew, curling up a little on her side so that she can watch him still.

Who says he's experienced? Afterall, he is a plagued race. And if he is twitchy about kissing her . . . . that really does beg some questions in that regard. But fortunatly, she is highly unlikely to ever know the answer to that one. That would likely not be his proudest moment. He roots! And he is good at it too, managing to slap togeather oatmeal, some bread and the like very quickly -- adding sugar and then dissapearing out the door. When he returns a minute later -- having faced the cold to go to his own trailer without his proper clothes -- he has the finishing touch. A dollop of jam for her bread. Ha! Even alien mercenaries know how to eat apparently. This is brought to her, and he flops his mass down onto a chair beside the bed; though he puts his feet on it. "Yeah. She does." Munch, Munch. "We should go out somewhere today. Though...." A little laugh. Just a chuckle. "I don't really know the first thing about that sort of thing. Where do you usually go, for... well, to get out?"

Of course, Isabeau being the way she is, she's unlikely to ask him anything about his history with women. It's just not her way. She tends to just take him as he is. She watches him rooting around in the kitchen, and though she gives a giggle, it ends in a bit of a coughing fit. Muscles sore from coughing complain, and she gives a quiet murmur as she curls up a bit more, trying to prop herself a bit more on the pillows. When he vanishes then out the door, she blinks a bit, confused and surprised by that unexpected action. Then he returns, with jam for the toast, and she pushes herself up into a sitting position, giving a little squee of delight, her eyes showing a sparkle to them. It's the toast she takes up first, when the food's brought to her, taking a bite and chewing, then swallowing. "How'd you figure strawberry was my favourite?" she asks, bemused and partially teasing him. She's quiet a moment, then, as she munches more of the toast with enjoyment, and she lifts a shoulder in a slight shrug to the question. "Mmm... depends on what kind of 'out' I'm looking for. If I want risks, I stay in the Dregs. If I want something more peaceful, I head towards the park. I need to do a bit of shopping, at some poing, though, before I spend too much time out in wintery weather," she muses, wrinkling her nose a little. She doesn't like shopping, sometimes.

Korban has made breakfast. He is a good Korban. Good Korbans cook. See? Another reason to keep him! He eats swiftly; probably that base primal thing. Yanno, if you don't eat it fast someone will come and take it away. So, not really, but. The squee of delight makes the trip out in the cold a hundred percent worth it and it provokes just a twitch from the corners of his mouth. Him? Happy? Never. Impossible. Well, perhaps not, because just for the moment there is contentment in his eyes. Something relatively new to him, one can be sure. "Good guess. Was either that or some strange thing they found growing outside the city somewhere, and nobody knows what it was but someone made preservatives out of it anyway." He listens to all of this, and sort of frowns. "That's complicated. When I want fun, I usually go to the range 'an..." Well, obviously that isn't going to work. And he'd rather cut himself with razor blades and roll in salt to go shopping. "Ain't there like....playhouses and stuff? Holovids and all here in this place?"

Indeed, he is a good Korban, although Isabeau likely is under the impression for other reasons than that he made breakfast. Shifting a little, she repositions herself into a cross-legged pose, and takes a moment to glance to him from the food, her expression thoughtful. "Mmm... it's not really that complicated. Just... well... female, I guess," she comments, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She munches her way through the rest of that piece of toast, licking her fingers of traces of sticky jam on them. Something causes a tickle in her throat, and though she first tries to just clear her throat, she turns away from the food and ends up coughing quite a bit, that leaving her a bit flushed and trying to catch her breath. Urf. Quiet for a moment, her gaze shifts to him. "Strawberry was a good guess... I'd rather it than a mystery fruit. Well... I suppose, you could always try to teach me something protective-ish? All I know how to do is use my whip, a little," she muses, wrinkling her nose slightly. Not that she's ever drawn the weapon and made use of it. "Although, that kind of something might better wait until I'm completely over being sick. I haven't really paid much attention to holovid places or playhouses, to be honest... I don't have a job, so I kind of watch what I spend money on," she comments, blushing and ducking her chin a little sheepishly.

Korban narrows his eyes for a moment as he watches the bit of toast try so hard to kill Isabeau. Fortunatly for him, as he has no idea where he'd put the body, it does not actually succeed. That would be distressing. "Female is a syno...." He frowns. "Syna...." He frowns even more. "Synono...." Brows furrow and he waves in a dismissive manner. "Whatever ya call it.. the same as the word for complicated." He resists going to beat her on the back when she hacks, because that really wouldn't help anything. But it sure is tempting. "You actually know how to use a whip as like, a weapon?" He inquires, as he peers at his empty plate. "Or just, yanno, in the bedroom." He lets that sit, wondering for a moment if she will actually even get the joke. "I'd be a little too worried about hurtin' you anyway. So that's out. Huh. There's got to be something we can do." Head is scratched, running his fingers through his currently-unkempt hair. "Maybe when the doctor lady gets home, she can figure something out. Play cards, or... I don't know. Somethin'."

Korban isn't the only one to be thankful that the bit of toast doesn't succeed in killing her. The petite redheaded woman is rather thankful of that as well. She gives a slight shiver, then lifts a hand to tug her fingers through her hair. "Synonymous," she offers, glancing sidelong to him as she provides the word, though doing so makes her blush a little. She takes a moment to rest against the pillows, catching her breath, and then she pushes herself back to be sitting up. Reaching out, she takes up a bowl of the oatmeal he made, and while holding the bowl in one of her hands, she starts to eat that as well, finding herself to be quite hungry. And the oatmeal just tastes good to her. "Mmm? Mmm-hmm," she says, giving a nod, a small smile curling at the corners of her lips. "I can use it, some. I'm not really very good at it, though," she says softly. Of course, that could be the truth or it could be a modest understatement of her true ability. It's hard to say since she's never actually drawn the weapon and used it in Kingsdale. It seems she doesn't quite catch the bedroom reference of it, though, and she tilts her head a little to one side as she gives him a sidelong and studious glance. "In the bedroom...?" she inquires, her brow furrowing a little. "I don't hurt all that easy... well... so long as I don't get cut and end up bleeding all over everything," she comments, wrinkling her nose a little. She's learned to live with that aspect of herself, and make the best of it. It's why she doesn't use a bladed weapon to try to defend herself with, and the whip allows her to keep people at more of a distance from her. "There's always something that can be done... just a matter of deciding on what," she muses, munching more of the oatmeal and finishing the bowl before settling it aside and resting back amongst the pillows.

Speak of the devil, and then she appears.... Or so it would seem. The door opens and in comes Abigail. She pauses and tilts her head. "Doctor lady can do what?" She probably missed the rest of the comment with the jingling of her keys. She moves further into the room so she can peer around the curtain. She offers Korban a wave and a smile, and moves directly over to Isabeau. She pauses there, reaching out a hand to take up one of the redhead's wrists so she can check the pulse. "You're making her eat something. Good."

Korban is seated on a chair next to Isabeau's bed. He currently has no boots and socks on, and no shirt either. But he's decent at least. "I didn't even have t'fuss at her. I know the weakness, now. Preserves." He stretches, turning to adjust what appears to be a small seam of skin on his left shoulder. "Anyway." he pointedly ignores the joke that he made earlier and is now not going to explain with the doctor here. "We were trying to figure out what to do with the day. Thought maybe you had a suggestion or two. Or wanted t'have a look at her or somethin' of the kind. I... ain't so good at social things." For his part though, he sits where he is; feet on the edge of the bed and brain briefly pondering the interrupted conversation.

Isabeau raises an eyebrow slightly as she lifts her attention towards the door as it opens, and a small smile touches at the corners of her lips. "Mmm... g'afternoon, Abby," she offers, staying where she's resting against the pillows. She still feels like she could sleep more, but she's not sure about eating more than what she's already done. She watches Abby a moment, then turns her attention to Korban, studying him for a lingering moment. Though as her wrist is captured for the pulse to be measured, her gaze turns back to the lady doctor, and one of her eyebrows quirks upwards a little. Her pulse is a little quicker than normal, but it's even, at least. Her breathing is nearly normal, but still on the shallower side of things simply because her lungs are still healing from their fight with the pneumonia. "Mmm... you might not be good at social things, but you keep me good company," she says softly, a smile tugging at her lips as she looks to Korban. Squirming a little, shifting a bit and curling up on her side, she giggles softly, managing this time not to end up coughing from it. "I like preserves... they're fruity and sweet and make things more yummy," she points out, peeking at Korban through her lashes. For herself, Isabeau is still in her flannel nightgown, and covered with the warm blankets of the bed.

Abigail glances over to the man as he adjusts... Eh? She raises an eyebrow, but doesn't ask. For now, at least. Not really any of her business. Instead, she concentrates on what he's said. "Trying to figure out what to do with the day, huh? Well... Something indoors," she says, looking quite pointedly at Isabeau. "Isabeau, do you have any board games or anything? Monopoly, maybe?" She releases the redhead's wrist and steps back a pace, looking over toward Korban for a moment before turning and walking from the 'room'. "Keep talking, I'm just going to change." She goes toward her 'room' and pulls the curtain closed behind her once she's inside. Then, sounds of movement can be heard.

Korban is fairly perceptive, even still waking up as he is. Yawning faintly; he stretches yet again and one can almost hear his back clicking. "Military spec bionic replacement." He says to Abigail's retreating back. "Lost th' real one a few years ago. No big thing. Some people like t'advertise, but I had this skin sleeve made. Makes me feel a little better 'bout it." And there is the possibly eye-opening explanation of how much the idea of cybernetics has advanced. In Abigail's time afterall, it was only science fiction. "Anyway. What's...mon-op-oh-lie?" He seems to have difficulty with the word. "Oh, monopoly. Like a company. What's that?" Oddly enough, he really does mean it too. To Isabeau, he doesn't say anything. Doesn't even nod in agreement although he assuredly does. He just absently pokes her in the leg with one of his toes. Okay, so that isn't true. He does speak to her. "What's monopoly?!" It's sort of asked in a low, a little bit desperate hiss. "And...board games? Hrm. Can't we at least play Poker or something? You guys DO play poker right?"

Isabeau shifts a little bit, and she gives a slight shiver before drawing the blankets up a touch closer. She feels a little cold, and yet her skin is warm to the touch. A little murmur escapes her lips, and she looks to Korban to his words, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies that one arm of his. Ah... that explains why that arm felt heavier when it was draped across her. Sniffling a little bit, she curls up a bit on her side, then lifts a hand to brush aside a bit of her hair. She looks to Korban, then lifts one of her shoulders in a little bit of a shrug. "Mmm? What's Monopoly?" she inquires, one of her eyebrows quirking upwards. If she's supposed to have heard of it, she apparently never has. "All I have is a set of chess pieces, in the locked box under the cot," she comments, her tone thoughtful in nature. She falls quiet for a moment, resting, her breathing taking on a minorly laboured sound to it. "I play poker... or at least, I know how to. Though I haven't, in a while," she says softly, a little smile touching her lips.

The explanation is somewhat surprising for Abigail, but she sort of just nods. And then realizes that the pair can't possibly see her. So she says, "Ah, that explains it then." She shakes her head a little bit. "Bionics and the like have really advanced that far, eh?" She finishes getting dressed and comes out of her 'bedroom', moving back toward Isabeau's. "Um. Monopoly is a board game. Like chess. But played with cards and dice too. Maybe I'll see if I can find somebody to make me a set and teach it to you two. But yes, we do play poker. I'm actually decent at poker." She pauses a moment, looking toward Isabeau, eyes narrowing. She moves a step closer and lays her hand, the back of it, across Isabeau's forehead. And frowns. She turns and leaves the room again, heading to hers. When she comes back, she has an old fashioned stethascope with her. Abigail moves over to Isabeau, and pulls part of the blanket back so she can put the stethascope where it goes on the woman's back. She listens for a moment, then looks up at Korban. "Out. Isabeau needs to rest now. She's getting a fever again. Come back tomorrow morning at about this time, and we'll all three play a hand of poker," she says, tucking the blankets back around Isabeau. She leaves the room again, not coming back for a few minutes. The sound of running water can be heard while she's gone. And when she reappears, she has a glass of water in one hand, and a couple of pills in the other hand. Probably the medication Isabeau's suppsed to be taking.

Korban sees the writing on the wall as Abigail begins to work, and goes about putting shirt and boots on; and placing dirty dishes in the sink. "You'd be surprised." He says. "Come have a talk with me 'bout it sometime. Might open your eyes." Though he saw it coming, he frowns nonetheless but accepts it good-naturedly, throwing Isabeau a little waves. "Right then. Yes, Mother." He says to Abigail. "Hurry up and get better, so you can be let out of jail." An amused smile, and then, bamf. He leaves.

The too-slender redheaded woman shifts a bit, to curl up a little more there on her side. She's cold and too warm at the same time. It's not a fun feeling, really. Giving a little murmur, she doesn't pay much attention to Abigail's comings and goings -- or at least, not until it means that the cold end of a stethoscope ends up against her back. That brings a little shiver from her, and she eyes the lady doctor for a lingering moment. Her pupils are dilated a little, a reflection of the returning fever. She gives a grumble at Abigail's announcement to Korban, then lifts her attention to him. "Mmm... I'll be all right," she says quietly, managing a little ghost of a smile. "'m trying to get better," she adds, nestling into the pillows and a bit further under the blankets. For right now, though, she's just not feeling very well at all. Her gaze slips to Abby, and she shifts a little to push herself up some, to be able to accept the pills and pop them into her mouth before taking a drink of water to swallow them down.

Abigail waits patiently with the cup of water in her hand, and the pills in the other. When Isabeau is ready, she hands both to the woman. Then steps back. She turns her head, eyes tracking Korban as the man leaves. Once he's gone, her attention turns back to Isabeau. She holds out her hand for the cup of water. "Alright, Isa, you rest now. And if you need anything, you... Hm. Hold on, I think I have something that will help." She turns away again, and goes back to her room. When she comes back, the sound of something jingling, like a bell, can be heard. She sets it on the table where the redhead will be able to reach it. "There. If you need anything, ring that. But stay in bed." She pauses a moment, eyes narrowing at the other woman. "Either you stay in bed, or I go get Korban and we take you to the KEC again. Got it?" She waits patiently for both the answer and the cup of water now.

With the pills taken, she moves to settle back on the pillows again, giving a little murmur of discomfort as she does, and doing so only after handing back the glass of water. Her lashes blink in lazy fashion, though in truth, she's fighting to stay awake for the moment. As the bell is delivered, she manages a faint smile and gives a bit of a nod. "Mmm-kay," Isabeau says quietly, curling up beneath the blankets. Stifling a yawn, she gives a bit of a nod, again. "I'll stay... promise," she murmurs softly. Unless she has to use the commode, then she'll get up, but other than that, she'll stay in her bed. She really needs to get some proper winter clothes at some point. Tags: abigail, isabeau, korban