Leo Fitz (
hypoxic) wrote in
entranceway2016-05-09 12:08 am
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[Video | Action]
[Video]
[Fitz had intended to send this as a private message to Dr. Foster, but a sudden onset of dizziness and blurred vision meant a text message was out of the question. Video would have to do. He'd remembered to set the privacy settings, hadn't he? Probably.
He addresses the network with a bleary expression, glassy eyes rolling up into his head until he blinks to train them back into place. His skin is an unhealthy pallor, ghastly white with a rash of dark splotches tainting the deep bags under his eyes.]
Doctor Foster... I, ah... The samples from the tunnels? I've been performing analyses, and I've reason to suspect that they aren't quite safe... They react terribly to human DNA samples. It's... I'm not a strong enough biologist to reach a proper conclusion, but some sort of degeneration appears to be taking place.
I also think it might be in our best interests to quarantine off the remaining sediment. The dust has been... It's...
[He grimaces and clenches his jaw, bowing his head for a long moment. He doesn't finish his thought, jumping over to a different one instead.]
Would advise against further reconnaissance trips to the tunnels. At least until we've had more time to study.
[He clumsily gropes along the keyboard next. One of those button presses probably manages to post it. Probably.]
[Action]
[Those who thought the darkness was limited to the subterranean levels of Wonderland might be dismayed by a certain scientist's decision to bring a cursed object onto a higher level. Fitz, believing fully that "cursed objects" were silly superstitions, saw nothing wrong with the idea of bringing it topside for testing and discovery. That was before the illness struck. Now, there's just pain. Pain and... some kind of faint melody. It's too distant to make out yet, a soft buzzing at the edge of his thoughts.
After leaving his message, he abandons the lab entirely, with the intent to return to his room on the fourth floor and sleep until the illness breaks on its own. He's underestimated the frequent onsets of mystical pain, though. He'll most likely be a huddled lump of a person curled against a hallway wall, shivering despite a critically high fever.
He'll still argue any "taint" or "curse" talk, though. It's probably nothing that antibiotics can't cure.]
[Fitz had intended to send this as a private message to Dr. Foster, but a sudden onset of dizziness and blurred vision meant a text message was out of the question. Video would have to do. He'd remembered to set the privacy settings, hadn't he? Probably.
He addresses the network with a bleary expression, glassy eyes rolling up into his head until he blinks to train them back into place. His skin is an unhealthy pallor, ghastly white with a rash of dark splotches tainting the deep bags under his eyes.]
Doctor Foster... I, ah... The samples from the tunnels? I've been performing analyses, and I've reason to suspect that they aren't quite safe... They react terribly to human DNA samples. It's... I'm not a strong enough biologist to reach a proper conclusion, but some sort of degeneration appears to be taking place.
I also think it might be in our best interests to quarantine off the remaining sediment. The dust has been... It's...
[He grimaces and clenches his jaw, bowing his head for a long moment. He doesn't finish his thought, jumping over to a different one instead.]
Would advise against further reconnaissance trips to the tunnels. At least until we've had more time to study.
[He clumsily gropes along the keyboard next. One of those button presses probably manages to post it. Probably.]
[Action]
[Those who thought the darkness was limited to the subterranean levels of Wonderland might be dismayed by a certain scientist's decision to bring a cursed object onto a higher level. Fitz, believing fully that "cursed objects" were silly superstitions, saw nothing wrong with the idea of bringing it topside for testing and discovery. That was before the illness struck. Now, there's just pain. Pain and... some kind of faint melody. It's too distant to make out yet, a soft buzzing at the edge of his thoughts.
After leaving his message, he abandons the lab entirely, with the intent to return to his room on the fourth floor and sleep until the illness breaks on its own. He's underestimated the frequent onsets of mystical pain, though. He'll most likely be a huddled lump of a person curled against a hallway wall, shivering despite a critically high fever.
He'll still argue any "taint" or "curse" talk, though. It's probably nothing that antibiotics can't cure.]
Re: video;
[Is that a hazmat suit? Oh, surely that's overkill...]
Right now, there's -- I suspect it's a high fever. Skin sensitivity. Blurred vision, difficulty... um. There's this noise. Hard to keep focus around it. Not quite ringing of the ears, but potentially something similar.
video;
[Suit on, she roams out of view of the camera entirely, though there is shuffling and the telltale sound of pill bottles rattling under her voice as she calls back.]
Do you have any allergies, Leo?
Re: video;
["Leo" makes him feel like his mum is calling him for dinner.]
But -- no. No allergies that I know about. Allergic to interdimensional artifacts, perhaps.
[he's mostly out of frame, slowly sinking back in his chair. It won't be terrible if he closes his eyes for a bit, right? He can keep up conversation without outright looking at her.]
video;
[She has most of a to-go house call bag at the ready anyway, and the trouble and mercy of what he's describing to her is that she's not sure she has medicine that would help with much more than symptom management. She does grab some triage and diagnostic basics, though, keeping him talking while she finishes sifting through their stores.]
So what do you do, Fitz? It's not every day I hear about people around here running DNA analyses.
video;
video;
[If, she's used to being the correct answer, but it really is when here. She doesn't know whether that's more wonderful or terrifying.]
Fourth floor, you said?
Re: video;
[He trails off, then restarts his thought entirely.]
Fourth floor. Room fifty-two.
video -> action;
[She posts an away note to her office door and trots out, small duffel of supplies slung over her shoulder. After what happened a few weeks ago, it's impossible not to feel on-edge, but she reminds herself this could be anything. This isn't even necessarily infectious. Who knows what he was exposed to in those samples he was testing. Those samples that . . . apparently had some sort of disastrous effect upon DNA.
Right. Picking up the pace.
It's just a few minutes until Maxine's tapping at the indicated door, cracking it open before waiting for an answer.]
Fitz?
action;
[The reply is terribly quiet, even despite his usual soft brogue. His throat feels too tight to manage much louder. He's still seated, though the dark red patches have claimed more of his face, spreading down into his neck. His eyes struggle open again, mostly out of politeness.]
action;
Hey again. I'm just going to check some vitals on you right now, if that's okay. While I do that, do you think you can walk me through what you were doing before all this started?
action;
I. There was a stone we'd recovered from the tunnels. I broke it down into chunks... wore gloves through the process, but it's possible that some debris made contact with me then. Didn't notice anything until working with the spectroanalysis later.
[his blood pressure is erratic, spiking between a dangerously low pulse to a rapid patter as his body struggles to compensate.]
action;
-well. If it comes to that she'll cross that bridge in time. Right now she's calmly quick: looping a tourniquet around his arm once the cuff comes off, pulling on a second layer of gloves, swabbing the crook of his elbow with an alcohol wipe.]
Well, looks like whatever it was did a number on you. Sorry, but the needles have to come out now.
[The ease in her voice is half bravado, but at least her hands can move on autopilot through this part. A quick poke and she's threading the catheter in, taping and testing at a muscle-memory tempo before straightening to hang a bag of saline off the corner of his chair. (Cloth tape: it's not just for flesh wounds any more.)]
And when were you running those tests? Hours ago, days-?
Re: action;
[He and Simmons could think their way out of this. They've solved alien bioterrorism before. But Simmons isn't here now.
He's thoroughly permissive as she hooks him into a drip and fusses over his wellbeing. He imagines that this much fuss isn't because she's got good news.]
We brought the sample up here yesterday. Started working with it this morning.
action;
[She takes and releases a deep breath, handing over the digital thermometer for him to put under his tongue. Small dignities, at least.]
Well, to be honest? Assuming this is an infection, you're looking pretty septic. Hopefully the fluids help your blood pressure, but if the onset from exposure was this quick, I don't want to wait for a full study on whatever this thing is before we try something to treat it. I can put you on broad-spectrum antibiotics for now while I look at that sample, and if your fever's dangerously high there's always paracetamol or ibuprofen. But that would be my starting point. Does that sound okay to you?
action;
[He accepts the thermometer into his mouth with a sigh, though he rolls it more than he should. He's not very good at being a patient, honestly.]
Meds are fine, but I'm not sure you ought to get involved with the sample just yet. We've not confirmed that skin contact is the trigger. If it's radiation-based, that suit won't do anything for you.
action;
I'll dig a Geiger counter out of the closet and take my chances. But right now your symptoms aren't screaming radiation poising to me. [And . . . right. That is a high fever. She digs out a packet of ibuprofen and a bottle of water, cracking open the cap before passing both to him.]
If this is infectious? We need a doctor with the right kind of experience out ahead of the curve before more cases crop up. If it's not . . . ? I do what I can. Maybe whoever does cure this gets some use of me as a second case. [Her quirk of a smile is hidden behind her mask, but a hint of it reaches her eyes anyway.] We get a couple of deaths here. This is worth one of them, easy.
action;
[He accepts the water and medicine, but pauses without taking them. Instead, he stares absently in a random direction.]
That radio's getting a bit loud, though. Would you mind turning it down?
action;
There's no radio playing, Fitz.
[She gives a little squeeze, an effort at encouragement she knows will only ring hollow in words.]
Take the ibuprofen, okay? I'm going to finish taking a look at you and recommend you get some sleep.
Re: action;
[He blinks slowly, glancing back to her when she touches him. The glassy look in his eyes hasn't gotten any better.]
Take the... [His stare shifts down again; he finally swallows the pills after a soft "oh."]
action;
[She pats his arm, and the rest of the exam passes in relative quiet, murmured instructions to breathe deep, look forward, say aaa punctuating the quiet of Maxine working. Her mind's already on overdrive, building a bloated differential that runs the gamut from toxin exposure through infectious causes to some sort of parasitic process. A handful of tubes of blood round out the data taken before she leaves him be just long enough to find the closet. She doesn't need much from it, just a narrow futon-esque mattress and some sheets, which she lays out on the floor near the chair.]
There we go. Not exactly the Hilton, but it's somewhere to sleep, anyway. [The IV's still going, but she unhooks it temporarily, just in the interest of him not pulling it loose while he moves.] How's that radio doing, Fitz?
Re: action;
When she speaks to him directly, he doesn't respond at all. His chest still rises and falls with semi-regular breaths, but she might as well have spoken in Greek, for all the communication that was accomplished.]
action;
action;
It hurts...
[The "it" is unclear. That's probably because the pain is coming from absolutely everywhere.]
action;
Sorry I had to do that. [She pulls the chair around and takes up the end of the bag, hooking it up to his arm again with a practised twist.] What hurts?
action;
All of it.
[It's far less self-aware than he'd been an hour ago, most likely giving her less of an actual answer.]
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