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]

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?