[He'd say her take on sickness makes things incredibly hard to predict - although of course it doesn't, if this were a personal visit there would, at least, be shoes. He'd make the comment anyway, but he's too busy catching her, one arm looping across her back.
[It's a small movement to lift her and cross to the bed. She seems much smaller without the armour of her tailoring and heels, and she's always been lighter than she should be.]
I mean if you'd eaten a bad mushroom you'd be beyond the point where I could pump your stomach. The blood doesn't what?
[Like it or not, he'll need talking through this. There are a couple of new arachnid books on his shelves but the world is strangely lacking in texts on nursing them.]
If it doesn't break down it should pass through. The problem would be the damage on the way... I need to get you somewhere I can monitor your organ function.
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His shoulders bump the door firmly closed.]
I can see. What happened?
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I ate something bad. I ate something I shouldn't have.
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[It's a small movement to lift her and cross to the bed. She seems much smaller without the armour of her tailoring and heels, and she's always been lighter than she should be.]
How long ago?
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[She leans against him, and then curls on the bed]
I think she was immortal.
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[It's a question as well as an assumption. Kneeling with her, he keeps one of her wrists, thumb running a cursory check of her pulse rate.]
Yesterday's too long ago to make things easy.
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[Oh, cramp. She curls up]
It's bad. What do you mean by easy?
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[Like it or not, he'll need talking through this. There are a couple of new arachnid books on his shelves but the world is strangely lacking in texts on nursing them.]
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[She curls up tight]
It's not like animal blood which is nutritionally invalid. I can't digest it at all, it attacks my insides.
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Just you.