October
when the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long
and the road has been too long
"That is a fairly decent stretch." You chirp supportively as if it's by choice and not because of the voracious fever that he's currently prone. Chuckling from where you're lodged against Finn's side, you shrug. "Dunno. Someone you pass in the hall? Pssst, Doctor Hart has gone soft, pass it on." You mime in an enthusiastic whisper.
Finn can feel bad all he likes about his body odour and the general condition of him, but you aren't worried about it. You've smelled and touched much worse, and given that you put the Spyglass to be clean, it isn't as bad as it might otherwise have been. "No, you probably haven't been." You agree almost sadly, not wanting to see a patient much less a friend have to endure what Finn is. "I'm sorry you're going through this Finn. We think that there might already be a cure, or at least a temporary way of breaking the fever and everything that comes with it."
Holding tight around him until it feels as though his vertigo might have passed, you reach for the hand of his around your shoulder, and gently put it on his stomach. Sliding your other arm out from behind him, you take a seat next to him on the bed, holding out a glass of water. "Voila." You say of the water, as if it truly is a well-won victory. "Slowly though, or you'll throw it up."
Finn can feel bad all he likes about his body odour and the general condition of him, but you aren't worried about it. You've smelled and touched much worse, and given that you put the Spyglass to be clean, it isn't as bad as it might otherwise have been. "No, you probably haven't been." You agree almost sadly, not wanting to see a patient much less a friend have to endure what Finn is. "I'm sorry you're going through this Finn. We think that there might already be a cure, or at least a temporary way of breaking the fever and everything that comes with it."
Holding tight around him until it feels as though his vertigo might have passed, you reach for the hand of his around your shoulder, and gently put it on his stomach. Sliding your other arm out from behind him, you take a seat next to him on the bed, holding out a glass of water. "Voila." You say of the water, as if it truly is a well-won victory. "Slowly though, or you'll throw it up."
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong
for the lucky and the strong
