For all that's true, for all you do

[shuttermouse]

[ A note goes up on the fridge shortly after Chie signs the chicken petition on Monday: ]



[ Come 6 pm, she has prepared some coffee and tea so people can have something to drink while watching the shenanigans that will happen, as well as hot sauce as penalty for refusing a dare. So come here and have fun, y'all. ]

Comments

[ninehundredlives]

They didn't know him well.

[Susan glances at Logan, but only for a moment. She sees Mordecai changing up the dosage there.]

Does this drink seem odd to you?

[forcegalactic]

Probably that's why I didn't feel that bad after everythin'. I didn't even talk to the ghoul.

[He tips the mouth of the bottle, but stops.]

You're feelin' somethin' funny in your hands, too? [The bottle shakes at this awkward angle, and it goes back on the table.] I don't taste anythin' in it, but...

[Dangit.]

Quick, head upstairs, we might be poisoned!

[ninehundredlives]

Quiet!

[Susan reaches out to take the bottle, examining the contents once more.]

Why would he bother poisoning us? You got this from the machine, right?

[forcegalactic]

[Her tone is authoritative enough to get him to freeze to the spot, but it doesn't make him less worried.]

Yeah, I did. The foodstuff ain't poisoned, but I'm not sure about this. And there's actual poison in there, remember?

[If he dies because of your stalling, he will not forgive you.]

[ninehundredlives]

[Siiiiiiiiiiiigh. This doesn't feel much like dying to her, but alright. Not everyone's as cavalier about that as she.]

Alright, come on. Don't panic everyone else - they may as well enjoy their party while they've got it.

[And she stands and slips quietly out of the room, still holding the bottle. No sense leaving it behind for someone else to maybe drink.]

[forcegalactic]

[No one else has had access to the bottle, and best to save themselves first. With a nod, Mordecai follows her out of the room, but not before walking into the doorjamb.

He hisses to himself, and fortunately, the rest of the room is distracted at the moment. He jogs out, looking at the ground.]

[ninehundredlives]

[Susan lifts an eyebrow.]

Are you alright?

[forcegalactic]

[He's holding a hand to his forehead. After a moment of deliberation, he uncovers it and looks at his hand. No blood.]

Yeah. [It goes back on.] Don't worry about that, l-let's keep moving.

[ninehundredlives]

...right.

[She's a little fuzzy herself, but she's quite determined to stay steady. TO THE INFIRMARY!]

So what exactly are you feeling?

[forcegalactic]

Dizzy, I think...I'm not talkin' right? Susan, do I sound drunk, because I know how I act when I'm drunk, but I can't be too sure at the moment.

[Now he doesn't regret drinking himself silly at Cactoid Jim's Christmas party.]

Can you tell the difference between drunk and poison? Not alcohol poisonin' that I would have expected.

[ninehundredlives]

I'm not that experienced in poisons. But you seem drunk, and I feel a bit tipsy. It could just be some kind of...tasteless alcohol?

[forcegalactic]

Tasteless? Can they even do that? They don't got anythin' like that on Mars, but...they can? Make it in a lab?

[Why someone would want the buzz without the taste eludes him. But now is the time to hurry.]

Hey, think there's somethin' in the first aid room that checks blood alcohol levels? Or checks or poison, whichever's more important.

[ninehundredlives]

I haven't seen anything like that.

[But she turns and goes to check the drawers anyway. That's an awfully specific tool but maybe one's available after all.]

[forcegalactic]

[This room may have modern equipment compared to the majority of the other people in here, but it's nothing compared to thirty-first century medicine. No instant poison detectors, no healing gels, nothing. Mordecai searches through the drawers as well, taking out anything that looks like a syringe. It's his best guess.

When his hand is full, he pauses and shifts from foot to foot in search of a rag or towel to rest them on, making sure they don't roll off the countertop. He ends up standing there for a minute, staring blankly at the wall before shrugging and putting them there anyway.

Onto the cabinets.]

[ninehundredlives]

[Susan's just looking for a breathalyzer or something. There's certainly no means of testing their blood around.]

Neither of us are dead yet... [She mutters in annoyance. There's not even any ipecac, not that that's even all that advisable anyway. If anyone ever really gets poisoned there's not much here for it.]

[forcegalactic]

Could be a slow-actin' poison.

[Nothing syringe-like in the cabinets either. He slams the last one shut and turns to Susan.]

But if the Conductor wants to make this as hard as possible, he wouldn't put somethin' that useful in here. [Groan.] Welp, we're stuck.

[ninehundredlives]

I really think it was just alcohol.

[Though without the typical smell and no tools, she's not really sure how best to check it.]

It doesn't feel like being poisoned. I think, anyway. Is your vision all right?

[forcegalactic]

Normal. [He thinks.] Kinda wobbly, but might be due to how it's gettin' hard for me to stand up straight. Why'd ya ask? You been poisoned before?

[ninehundredlives]

I wouldn't say that.

Mordecai, you're drunk.

[forcegalactic]

[There a good ten second pause while he stares at Susan.]

Well, that's...an obvious answer. You sure that's all there is to it? I mean...I do feel like I'm drunk, but you remember how that thing didn't have any...any alcohol, right? How's that work?

[ninehundredlives]

You're from Mars, and that's the thing you question?

[forcegalactic]

Why wouldn't I ask somethin' like that? We never bothered to change alcohol from the way it is!

[ninehundredlives]

Well, neither of us are dead yet. I know more about drug overdoses - [You know, being a nurse and all.] - but I think we would have felt something other than tipsy by now.

[forcegalactic]

You-you sure? [He trusts her and all, but the concern, however dwindling, is still there.] I know I'm as much alive as I usually am, but with the weapons comin' out of the machine, can't but help be a little concerned...

[He holds a hand to his forehead. Feels normal.] Whatever's going' on, it makes no sense.

[ninehundredlives]

I'm sure.

Most things here really don't make a lot of sense, when you get right down to it?