i_speak_softly | Thirty-Eighth Theory [Action]

[Sokka won't arrive until much later in the day, as he only just now heard about the draft after spending some... special time up in the Hot Springs with Suki. He's really only dropping by to stock up on his extra arsenal of bombs, knifes, and other sharp objects. He has no clue anyone else is using the place.]

[Loud noises coming from the forge, interspersed with off-key musical notes, might suggest to Sokka that someone is here. Or if not, Don's ninja senses will eventually penetrate his focus and alert him that he's not alone, at which point he'll come out to see who it is.]

[So it does. He decides to head back there, expecting to find Winry or Edward. The back of a shell makes him thing Raphael has finally decided to come back, but then he notes the purple bandanna....]

Donatello?

[He jumps, but manages not to drop the red-hot metal in the tongs in his hands, instead getting it safely into the tub of cold water before turning around.]

Sokka. I was hoping you'd be here.

Uh, yeah. I've kinda been... out for the last few days. [You know how it is. You start super dating your girlfriend, take a trip to the hot springs, get interrupted by a draft...]

Whaddya need?

[You're not the only one who's had a rough week. He'll get straight to the point.]

I heard you and Katara got called for the draft again.

Yeeeah, I kind of just found out.

[He rubs the back of his head.] I know it's bad timing, but if you could pass on a message to her...

Edited 2011-02-24 01:12 (UTC)

[... for Katara? Er.]

Uh, I guess. What is it?

It's Derek. He said... he could really use what she has in the vial. If she's willing.

[... oh. He didn't know Katara had offered. He can't help but wonder if it would even work...]

Yeah, I'll be sure to tell her. There's a few days before the fighting starts.

[He doesn't even know what Derek was talking about.]

Thanks. [He gestures around the smithy.] Can I do anything to help?

[Well, he does know Donatello is a lot better at technology than he'll ever be. Hmmm...]

Don't know. What can you manage in two days?

If I don't sleep? Miracles.

Well, right now I'm taking a lot of bombs that I've been working on. Smoke bombs, stink bombs, explosives... your usual stuff. Last time I had the Malnosso make some explosive boomerangs too, those came in handy. Of course, I've got my normal weapons and armor too. I'm not what I can add to that, except for bringing a gun.

[... and he's not sure he wants to do that.]

[A long pause.]

What kind of gun would you want?

What? No no, really. I'm not the gun type. I'm still trying work out how to use a crossbow.

[He seems much relieved by this.] You have everything you need, then?

I think so. Unless you have any ideas?

[He looks away.] Honestly, Sokka, it's probably better if you don't ask me for anything.

... that busy, huh? [No... it's probably not that.]

[A long look, and then he moves back towards the forge.] Bad things always happen to people when they ask me to do something.

What kind of bad things are we talking about here?

[He pumps the bellows to rebuild the flames.] Kidnapped. Sent home. It never fails...

Last I checked, 'sent home' was a good thing.

[For that person, anyway. No so much the people left behind.]

Not for some people. [And pick up the tongs; thrust the iron in the fire. Keep trying, even if it never makes a difference.]

Sure, maybe not everyone. But you're talking about coincidences. Stuff like luck, karma, destiny, and so on. None of that stuff is real. It's just stuff people make up to make themselves feel better. Or worse, whichever.

[If Sokka had lived Don's life, he would not doubt the existence of Turtle Luck.]

You don't have to believe me. But it's been pretty reliable.

Look, I know what it's like to have a lot of your plans go badly for you... trust me, I've really let down a lot of people with my own failures. And... well, actually I wasn't really going anywhere with that... er, but if the universe is out to get you, so what? That never stopped me.

Edited 2011-02-27 03:50 (UTC)

[He shrugs, watching the metal in the forge turn red again.] It doesn't stop me either. I just have to remember to factor it in when I make plans.

[Well, that's that then. And then after a bit a silence...]

What are you working on anyway?

[As if this is a completely logical thing to be making while half the village is preparing for battle:] Tuning forks.

A tuning fork. That's... [Weird? Irrelevant? Pointless with the battle looming?] ... different. You play an instrument?

[Blandly, because it's not like he's lying to you or anything:] Chopin wants them for his music lessons.

Oh right, music class. [Sokka thought about attending that class. And then didn't.]

[He hadn't particularly noticed your absence. He shrugs indifferently and bends to his work.]

[... right. Just like Winry.]

... anyway, I've got stuff to do. Seeya, Don.

["In a few days, if you still feel anything, or... or still want to be friends... Call me on the journals." Robert had been obsessing over that for the past two days. Combined with the shock of a recent draft and the pain of knowing Helios was kidnapped, having unspeakably atrocious things done to him by the Malnosso most likely, Robert had hardly been able to do anything other than cry. And drink. For the first time since he'd gone to Luceti.

He was a bit of a mess today. But two days... that counted as "a few", right? Was it too soon? Was he just making an even bigger fool of himself? Robert didn't know... But he knew he needed to speak to Donatello. Because even a heavy alcohol binge while he was holed up in his room crying hadn't erased the feelings. Even hating himself for having them hadn't erased them. Even trying to suppress them as usual by methodically cleaning, cooking, writing, anything other than dwelling on it - it hadn't worked.

Perhaps, subconsciously or otherwise, Robert didn't want it to work. Maybe, for once in his life, he wanted to try. Luceti was insane enough. Maybe it was making him go insane too.

So he opens his journal, head still mildly aching from the aftereffects of the hangover he's nursing, and hits the "Call" button for Donatello's journal. He even musters up his best filter so far - if this call goes as terribly as he thinks it might, it's better to keep it quiet.

Donatello might hear his journal ringing. If he does pick up, he'll hear the following sad, strained little voice, full of a mess of emotions, most of them bad.]

... D-Donatello... May we talk?

Because... the feelings... are still there.

I-I... I apologize. [Robert knows ~~because he's an emotional failure~~ Donatello hates him for them. Mostly he just wishes they would go away and stop ruining the few friendships he managed to make.]

[It takes Don a few minutes to realize someone is calling him, and when he does, he assumes it's Raph or Leo, furious and waiting to order him home. He sighs and turns away from the deafening blast of the forge.]

[But when he picks up the journal, it isn't Raph or Leo's face in the window. It's Robert, looking anywhere but at the camera and mumbling into his lapels.]

[Don can't make out a word he's saying.]

Robert...? Hold on...

[He turns back to the forge, taking his time to bank up the fire and make sure it's safe to leave alone for a while. He needs these minutes to think. He wasn't expecting Robert to call so soon (he wasn't expecting him to call at all), and he isn't sure yet what he wants to say.]

[When the fire is safely banked in the back of the furnace, Don turns away from the noisy machinery, scoops up his journal, and heads into the slightly-quieter other room. One more moment, and he looks down at the book.]

Yes?

[That moment where Donatello puts the journal down kind of makes Robert's stomach flip and scrunch in on itself from anxiety. The decision to actually call the turtle hadn't been an easy one to make, and the delay was just making him even more poignantly aware of how uncomfortable he was.

But this would be the worst possible moment to run. Not that Robert hadn't run at the worst possible moment before - but he willed himself this time to stay. To... to face up to this. It was for Donatello's sake, and for the vague little hope that maybe Donatello wouldn't hate him for this.

Still, his first response is a question.]

I-I... d-did I call at a bad time? I apologize, I didn't... [Okay, he was babbling and that had to stop. Robert forces himself to calm down a little. Just a little. His voice is still shaky, quiet; maybe it's obvious how little he slept last night, he doesn't know.]

... I... You told me that... that if I still h-had feelings, to call you. In a few days. [He doesn't know if this is "a few" but...]

... and, e-er, this particular... situation's outcome has yet to change. [Robert's voice hitches a bit, almost breaks from anxiety. He can't help how he rambles a little, in a stuttery broken sort of way, that distracted way that he has when he isn't sure exactly what to say and tries to sound like he does regardless.]

I realize that you, er, p-probably don't... don't want to deal with me again right now and you have b-better things to do and surely you a-aren't interested in that - you probably don't even like humans anyway like that and it's likely much too soon, we barely know each other and...

[Robert falls silent, his cheeks burning. He kind of writhes in place.]

I... Gah. I... I just apologize for all of this. T-Terribly ridiculous of m-me.

[Don listens silently while Robert rambles. At the end of it, he's still not sure he understands.]

Robert... what kind of feelings do you have for me?

[... He doesn't know?

Robert blinks, taken totally by surprise by that.]

W-Well. Er.

... Romantic ones. A-And just, general positive feelings... I, er, wouldn't want you to misinterpret that as... u-um, as me being shallow or... [Robert stumbles over his own sentence and clams up again.

He forces himself to breathe.]

... I-I understand if, if that makes you angry. I... I just... I just wanted to... ... to let you kn-know that I won't... I won't allow these to influence our... our d-dealings. I... [Robert wants to admit that he's scared. It would've been so much easier to, only a few days ago - to just pour that emotion out at his feet. And in a way that's terrifying; that something so fundamentally terrifying was so easy a little while ago.]

... m-mostly I wanted to... wanted to see if you could still... t-tolerate me.

[Tolerate you? He can't stop thinking about you. But he doesn't know what to think about what you just said.]

You're - really interested in me that way?

[A sentence like that calls for a ubiquitous answer.

Robert can never give one.]

Y-Yes.

... N-Not that it sh-should mean anything... untoward, of course... certainly you shouldn't h-have to pay any a-attention to it whatsoever if you d-don't wish to a-and...

[Robert clamps down on the urge to ramble on and on. He's actually panting a little from fear.]

Ah... I-I... I'm s-sorry, Donatello. You... You hardly need this, this nuisance from me.

[His mind is spinning from what this might mean. He's afraid to accept it, but he finds he's even more afraid to let it go.]

Robert, I - I don't know if I can. But - I could really use a friend right now.

[That hurts, but Robert was totally expecting it.]

N-no, it's fine. It's... that's perfectly acceptable. I'm m-more than amicable to the prospect of being... being your friend.

[It's okay if it never goes beyond that. It's just some stupid crush, probably. A stupid crush he should not be having on a person that probably doesn't want anything to do with it.]

I-In fact, that... that was more than I had expected... [And that is true. At least... at least Donatello doesn't hate him.]

I have to go finish something now, but I'm glad you called. Can we talk again soon?

Ah, yes. Certainly.

I don't want to... k-keep you. [Robert has a lot to think about now. And cry about, perhaps. That rejection is stinging, cutting deep in a way that he hoped it wouldn't...

But the fact that Donatello hasn't totally rejected him is reassuring, to an extent. And it's why Robert doesn't feel as terrible as he thought he would.

Plus Donatello wants to talk again.]

... Please, call me whenever y-you'd like. I'm, er, usually not particularly invested in anything. [A lie, especially right now, but Robert really does want Donatello to talk to him again.]

I'll come by when I can. [And before he turns back to the noise of the smithy -] Thank you.

[When Don comes home that night, he's greeted with a blast of heavy metal music loud enough to make his eardrums pound. The bass makes the whole house rattle on its foundation.

Or maybe that's just Raphael throwing the furniture around again. The impact of whatever he's just thrown makes the floor shake.

And Raph's screaming. It's impossible to make out what he's saying over the noise, but the anguish in his voice is palpable. It's a stark contrast from Leo's stern but far gentler tones struggling to cut through all the chaos on the other side of the bedroom door.]

Edited 2011-02-26 01:25 (UTC)

[This is rather alarming. Don deposits his clanking bundle in the living room and goes directly to Leo's side.]

What's going on? Raph...?

[Leo's rapping on the door pretty good at this point. Not banging yet. He glances at Don]

I don't know. I suddenly started hearing the noise. I've been trying to get his attention.

[He leans up to the door, listening, then looks at Leo with a worried expression.] Has he been in there all day?

[Yeah, he's been there all day, and all yesterday, wallowing in some dark hole inside his mind. Sleeping, barely eating, just doing nothing until he realized how fucking stupid that was. Fuck that emo bullshit. He wanted to get angry. Anger is better. Anger feels good.

Throwing the nightstand against the wall is like a killing blow in a fight. The wood smashes to splinters in his hand. The impact vibrates through his bones. And for a split second, he feels fucking wonderful.

But then it's gone and the spark of madness is sucked away from him in a vacuum until he finds his next target of destruction, his next momentary high.

The anger fogs his brain. Tunnel vision. The booze only enhances it, makes the vibrations send a shockwave explosive enough to jar his nerves. He stumbles as he grabs the half-empty bottle of whiskey again and tries to down as much as he can in one swallow, relishing the way it burns in his chest.

That hurt. That's what he wants. He wants to feel, chase away that hollow feeling, fill himself with pain if he has to. Pain is better than emptiness, and he forgot how good it feels.

He knows his brothers are outside. He can hear Leo banging on the door, but he blocks it out. Only roars a battle cry as he flips his entire bed on its side.]

With the music blasting. The banging and all is more recent.

[He'll bang on the door again, specially after that battle cry] Raph!

I'm going in. [He puts his hand on the doorknob, but it won't turn.] It's locked. [His other hand goes to his belt, and his eyes go to Leo.] Should I pick it?

[A bolt of panic races through him as he surveys the destruction, panting like a mad bull in a battlefield; heaving shoulders, unfocused eyes. There's nothing left to destroy. His whole room is diminished to rubble. But the hollowness is creeping in, crying for more, feed it. He can hear it screaming with every pound of his racing heart throbbing over the pulse of the music, thundering in his ears.

He can't stop here. It doesn't end here. He's not done yet.

If this was home, he would have gotten his fill out on the streets, shown up a shadow in Casey's window thirsting for blood. Find the best punks - the gangsters and druggies with that desperate look in their eyes. Feral. The kind with knives and blades and aren't afraid to use them. Those are his favorite kind, the desperate ones. He can smell it on a man from blocks away, the kind of guy who isn't afraid to cut a limb that's offered to him. The kind of scum that will give you the hits you need.

Then he'd stumble back home, high on his own endorphins, bleeding and satisfied.

He can't find that here. Not in this land full of heroes. No. He had other ways of quenching that thirst.

He downs the rest of the whiskey in three swallows.

On the other side of the door, it all goes strangely quiet save for the steady throb of music and the sound of breaking glass.]

[Yeah that sudden silence isn't helping]

Pick it, he could be hurt. [Or just passed out, who knows. Only one way to find out] I'm going in with you. [As back up, just in case.]

[The silence is scarier than the screaming. Never mind the lockpicks; Don is kicking the door down.]

Raph?! Oh, damn...

[There's pieces of glass and broken furniture everywhere. His shelf of weapons is toppled over, scattering weapons, and the walls are full of dents and holes. The stereo still blasts it's demonic ballad.

Raph stands in the middle of the wreckage, a chunk of glass in one hand, and several bloody gashes across his bicep.

He looks up at Don with a glazed expression. Stunned.

Then, he explodes.]

[He rushes toward his brothers with a crazed look in his eyes, still holding the piece of glass.]

[He has to say it again. Again and again until they get it through their puny little heads. This is his room! His space! Get the fuck out!

The way he moves, he's obviously drunk. Dangerously drunk. It's completely erased his inhibitions, leaving him with nothing pure, raw, overwhelming rage.

The back of his mind whispers You're not empty anymore. The way he bares his teeth almost looks like a grin.]

Edited 2011-02-26 02:57 (UTC)

[Leo's not even looking at the room. He's focused on their brother. It's a good thing too as Raph came at Don.

Don! Watch out! [He'll push the other out of the way, and make to grab for that wrist before Raph hurts one of them.]

Edited 2011-02-26 03:10 (UTC)

[Don leaps aside as Leo pushes him, but immediately turns back to launch a palm strike across Leo's grab, aiming to knock the shard of glass from Raph's grasp.]

[Disarm and disable. Don't hurt him.]

[At least, not any more than he needs to be hurt. They've gone through this often enough to know how to bring him back.]

[Raph stumbles to a dead halt at his brother's advances, still panting open-mouthed, that glazed and wild look still burning in his eyes. The shard gets knocked out of his hand, slicing into his palm as it's wrenched from his grasp. He wouldn't hurt his brothers. Or would he? Maybe he would, in this state. But mostly, he just wants them away. Push everyone away. He doesn't need them. He doesn't need anyone. He just wants to hurt in peace.

Is that too much to ask for?]

Can't you read!?

[He struggles in Leo's grip and pitches forward, trying to body-slam him. It's probably the worst idea he could make right now, and it would do nothing to get him out of the hold. Even worse, the booze is starting to hit him. Hard. The whole world tilts sideways with the movement, and he winds up half-collapsing onto Leo's plastron instead, still trying to pull his way out of the hold.]

Let go 'a me!

Edited 2011-02-26 03:33 (UTC)

[Leo doesn't want to hurt Raph either. A part of him is hoping Raph doesn't want to hurt them. He'll use his other hand to help steady Raph and to hold him back.]

Raphael calm down, we're trying to help you. [He's stern, but there's worry in his voice as well. He's not seen Raph like this in some time.]

Edited 2011-02-26 03:40 (UTC)

[Don picks up an empty bottle, thoughtfully.] Leo... let him go.

[Leo looks to Don for a moment. There's some hesitation before he lets go, backing off a bit. He looks back to Raph, watching him. Worried about what he might do now that he's loose. But if that last stumble was anything to go by..]

[Raph wrenches away from Leo's grasp the moment it loosens, and the momentum makes him scramble sideways a half a step until he gets his feet under him.

Once he's steady, he thrusts a finger at Leo's plastron.]

Don' touch me. Don' touch me ever again, y-you fuckin' poser.

[Leo reminds himself that Raph's drunk, evidenced by the empty bottles. Raph didn't mean what he said.]

I wasn't going to let you do something you'd regret, Raph. [Like attacking his brothers with that glass shard. His voice is calm and firm, since getting angry at an angry drunk was liable to make them angrier.]

Yeah? An' who gives you the right ta jus' parade around in here and start givin' orders? I don' gotta listen to you! We were doin' jus' fine without you!

[That definitely stung a little, but he keeps his features schooled.]

I haven't been parading around. I was telling you to stop and to calm down. You weren't thinking straight and I was trying to get you to listen.

[Given the situation, somebody had to try and get through to him. He was glad that Raph seemed to of calmed down at least a little. He wasn't trying to kick them out anymore.

I'm fine. I'm thinkin' just freakin' peachy. [Says the turtle with the blood trail running down his arm and dripping off his elbow.] You got no right tellin' me if I'm thinkin' or not. You don' even know me. Who th' hell're you? Huh?

[He shoves at Leo's chest.]

Whatcha gonna do about it? Huh Fearless? [He tries to shove again, throwing more weight into it this time.] Huh!?

I'm your brother. [He answers simply. The blood catches his attention, however, and he eyes it with concern.] We need to stop the bleeding.

[He looks around the wrecked room. This place isn't that safe for for them, much less a drunk person.] Raph go sit down in the living room. [Preferably before the other turtle falls down. He's hoping Raph will listen, he doesn't want him to get injured worse.

He looks to Don.]

Don get the first aid kit. He's bleeding pretty badly.

[Don glances at the wounds, even though he's already seen them and classified them as superficial.]

It's not as bad as it looks.

[The air is getting thicker, and the room swims around him. He can't breathe, he can't get a foothold. The whiskey burns like a hot poker in his stomach. He swallows hard and tries to gulp for air.

Leo's nothing but a green blob now. He has to squint to make sure it's him, make sure he's listening. Are you listening now, Leo?]

'M not goin' anywhere. This's my room.

[The room spins again and he sways dangerously.]

They should still be taken care of. [He looks to Don again] We have a bigger problem. He's not eaten in days and with as drunk as he is... [Does he really need to go on? He looks back to the swaying Raph, automatically reaching out to help steady him.]

Raph if you stay in here you could get hurt worse. [Which is what Leo's concerned about and why he wants Raph out of the room.]

He hasn't eaten either? [He moves around behind Raph, quietly and efficiently clearing a safe place for him to collapse.] Sit down, Raph. You don't have to leave.

'M not leavin'. [He braces himself against Leo, only half-aware he's doing it. He's obviously the only thing keeping him upright.] Lemme alone. I made a sign, but nobody can read or some shit.

[He hangs his head and doesn't let go of his brother's shoulder. Everything's blurry and his face is hot. His brother's voices sound like they're talking at the end of a tunnel, and he can't make heads or tails of what they're saying. It's like he's having an out of body experience.

And he really needs to throw up. His chest heaves and he gags hard, but nothing comes up. Probably for the better, though, since he's aiming toward Leo's plastron.]

No he hasn't. [Leo wasn't sure what affect this could have on Raph though.

He'll hold Raph up, no complaints there for now. He also watches Don clear space.] We're in here because we're your brothers. We're worried about you.

Alright no leaving. But you're still sitting down. [He'll move to get Raph sitting on the cleared floor.]

[Once a space is clear, Don moves to take over the task of helping Raph more-or-less gracefully to the floor, gesturing for Leo to grab the garbage can.]

Sorry, I must have forgotten how to read when I quit going to school.

[His brothers manage to guide him to the floor gently enough save for the last few inches. He plops down hard on his butt and won't stop leaning against Don if he decides to stay. He's too dizzy to sit up on his own otherwise.]

Y'sonnuva...fuckin' quitter.

[His head lolls forward his chest gives another heave.]

[Leo retrieves the can, and sets it in front of Raph]

I know. [A little push of healing magic should be all the prompting Raphael's body needs to empty its stomach.]

[The healing magic jolts his stomach, and he projectile vomits bile and mucous, partially missing the garbage can.]

Leo's watching him with concern, while keeping out of the firing range. He'll reach to add a, he hopes, comforting hand hand to one of Raph's shoulders.]

[While Raph is recovering from that, Don will take advantage of his temporary immobility to focus another shot of healing magic on his arm. A few minutes of concentration, and the wounds will be mostly closed.]

[Raph hangs over the garbage can, eyes closed, and convulses with dry heaves that wrack his whole body. But there's nothing in his stomach. All he can throw up is more threads of mucous.]

I d-d-don' feel g-good. [He moans and heaves again. And even with his brothers' hands on him, he just can't stay upright.]

[Leo will tighten his grip a little to try and keep Raph up right. But the vomiting was only adding to the others weakness.]

Don, anything else I can get for him? [He's definitely wanting to do more to help.]

He'd probably appreciate some water. [For his own part, he'll rub Raph's shell - no magic now, but only the simple healing power of touch.]

Got it. [He'll make sure Don's got him, before he's slipping out of the room. Shortly later he's coming back with a glass of water. He crouches down by Raph.]

Here Raph, this will help. [He'll help lean Raph back enough and help him, to drink the water if needed.

[He just wants to lie down, bros. He hasn't even opened his eyes since he started vomiting. All Leo will get in response is a moan.]

Just leave it. [He'll help Raph lie down, making sure he's on his side in case he vomits again, stuffing some pillows behind his shell to make the awkward position more comfortable.]

[He sighs, and finds a place to set the glass down. He moves to grab a towel from somewhere to clean up the vomit that missed the can.]

I think we should move him to the couch, or our bed at some point. [He can't stay on the floor forever. Between him and Donny, they should be able to carry him to the couch]

[Raph moans again, long and low, before puking up more mucous. He's never gonna drink like this again. Never. Fuck, he's never gonna drink at all. He'll never touch the stuff ever again.]

Let him get this out of his system first. [He stands up.] Did I miss anything else while I was out?

[Leo nods. They didn't need him vomiting on the couch. He straightens up.]

Nothing else. Everything all right at the forge?

Fine. Quiet.

Good to hear.

[By now, Raph's completely passed out on the floor. He's still gagging every now and then, and he seems to be shivering, but he's definitely not conscious.]

[He starts cleaning up in widening circles around Raphael's prone body. He tosses another empty bottle into the vomit-streaked garbage can.]

Where does he get all this?

[Leo cleans up as well. What a mess this was.]

That's...what I would like to know. I think we need to start keeping an eye out in case he brings any more home.

Edited 2011-02-27 21:57 (UTC)

[He picks up a broken piece of chair.] If I can say nothing else for Raph's behavior in Luceti, I can at least say that he hasn't lost his ninja skills.

Which is good. [He was glad they could both still defend themselves, and still practiced, even when he, and Master Splinter, had not been around.]

[A sardonic smile.] Not for us.

No, but he's not the only ninja in this house. [He grins a little. This should be interesting.]

[Don returns the smile, but not very enthusiastically. He has too much on his mind.]

[The smile remains for a bit before it fades as he works on cleaning up. He goes to retrieve a broom and pan to pick up the glass, to dump them in the can as well.]

[They clean in silence. When they finish, Raph is still lying motionless on the floor.]

[Don taps his shoulder.] Raph... you ready to go out to the couch now?

[No response. He just lies there, mouth open in the small puddle of vomited mucous, trembling in a strange, jerky way that's not quite shivering. His skin is cold and clammy to the touch.]

[Leo will come back from putting away the broom and pan.]

All right, you get his feet, I'll get his head. [He frowns in concern as he moves up to Raph. He wasn't looking good] And we'll need a blanket.

Edited 2011-02-28 22:22 (UTC)

No, wait. [He moves his hand to Raph's forehead, then leans over to listen to his breathing.] Leo, I think he has alcohol poisoning. ... I think he's having a seizure.

What do we do?

Hold him down. Don't let him hurt himself. [He'll move to gently pin Raphael's twitching arms.]

[The tremors are pretty minor, at least. It's more like really over-exaggerated twitchy shivering. If they're determined to hold him down the entire time, he'll probably keep going for nearly ten minutes.]

Got it. [He'll move to help hold him down as well]

[Don will wait it out. He doesn't want to attempt healing magic on something like this, and he doesn't think he has any anti-seizure drugs in the medkit, even if he were willing to send Leo to get it.]

Come on, Raph. You better not have given yourself brain damage...

Edited 2011-03-01 02:57 (UTC)

[His breathing is slow and shallow, but his pulse is strong once it normalizes after the seizure. Still, he'll remain unconscious.]

Edited 2011-03-01 03:09 (UTC)

[Leo waits it out, watching. He's worried about how long it takes to stop, but he's relieved when it does. He looks to Don, who knows more about this.]

Don, now what?

[He bites his thumb, nervously. He's never dealt with this before.] He's thrown up everything he's going to. We should let him metabolize the rest.

Let's move him to the couch then.

[He nods, sliding his hands under Raph's shoulders.] On three.

[Leo moves over and takes a hold of Raph's legs.]

One. Two. Three. [At three they both lift him up off the floor. They get him out of the room, and out to the living room where they lay him on the couch.]

[Don takes the blanket from the back of the couch, flaps it out, and drapes it over Raph.]

Do you want to sit with him first or should I?

[As if answering, Leo sits down in one of the chairs.]

We'll both stay with him. I doubt either of us will get any sleep tonight.

[Don knows he won't, but for other reasons.]

[He'll take the other chair, without any further comment, and make himself comfortable.]

Thirty-Eighth Theory [Action]

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