Educational Material


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Scene Title Educational Material
Synopsis Lynette has a live book reading to a rather captive audience.
Date March 11, 2011

Pollepel Island: Infirmary

Lynette has not been feeling much better. In fact, she feels — and looks — worse. But it's always a boon to keep the mind occupied. Which is how she's ended up reading allowed to her neighboring cot. Or, well, the woman in it, anyway.

Unfortunately for Abby, Lynette's reading material is, in fact, Mean Heat, a rather salacious novel about roguish cowboys and a woman traveling on her own and the typical things that go on in these types of novels. She's just getting to the juicy bits, something involving words like flesh and moist and probably a manhood. Of course, Lynette recites them as if they were any other word. And it is a bit like reciting, given how often she's read this particular book.
"Oh heavens stop, just stop"

Abigail's got her hands over her eyes, beneath them, eyelids screwed tight and a look of horror over the rest of her features not obscured by her hands. Parked on an empty bed between Gillians and lynette's bed so that they could entertain the downed orphan mistress since she and Lynette were the more ambulatory of the flu victims at the moment. You'd think Megan or Francois were coming at her with a needle or something.

But it's far more worse to her modest sensibilities.

But it's just Lynette reading from Mean heat. Abigail loves her soaps, but a romance novel is a bit more graphic than who's having who's baby and why is the priest the twin brother of the columbian drug lord and here to right his brothers wrongs.

You'd also think that Lynette was enacting out the actions being taken by the strapping man in the novel and the damsel who's woo'd by him. It would make more sense to cover ones ears and not their eyes.

But middle finger and ring finger on her right hand part and blue eyes peek out. Quickly shut again. "Okay, keep going but, but don't say that word, find some other word. Don't say throbbing ma- Oh heavens, just choose another word" This coming from the married woman. One hand swings out to take Gillians, hold it tight.

The hand that Abby grasps is warm, wet with sweat, but at least she's not talking to herself right now. Perhaps the book being read outloud is enough to insure she doesn't talk to herself. But that doesn't mean she's not seeing things. "The kids shouldn't hear that either," she adds, even if the children are on the other side of the room. Odd that Gillian would have asked to have her bed moved as far from them as possible, even if she does try her best to take the long, unsteady walk over to where they are daily.

Two of the kids have shown improvement since yesterday. No longer coughing up blood, the two oldest Lighthouse Kids seem to be recovering. Their abilities have not returned, and their temperature is still high, but any improvement seems to be good news. Much better news than the two youngest dying in their beds.

"Abby, for goodness sakes," Lynette says with a chuckle that turns into a coughing fit. And it goes on for some time, so long she has to reach for her water (with straw!) that she has sitting near by. "You're such a prude." It might be harsh under other circumstances, but she gives the woman a crooked smile that takes the sting out.

Lynette glances past her to Gillian, and then over to the children across the room. She frowns for a moment, but in the spirit of one trying to keep the mood light in spite of everything, she looks back to Gillian with a smirk. "They don't mind a little scandal."

"This prude has had sex in a car, almost in an alleyway and I have run naked across Staten Island twice, not to mention the midtown. I'm modest not a prude. Prude's wouldn't have sex before marriage" She points out, and while she agrees with Gillian, she doesn't think Lynette's being that loud. Not with all the coughing that punctuates the room from the various sick people. "Just.. okay maybe say it a little lower or maybe we can save the reading for later and can do something else, like.. like checkers, while we all have a tiny bit of energy." because such a thing is a comoddity here.

"Yeah, but running naked across Staten Island and Midtown wasn't exactly a choice, was it?" Gillian asks outloud, despite dropping into a cough after she does. The oldest of the kids may be getting better, but it doesn't seem to be the same for their former keeper. Gillian's just as bad as she was the week before, based on the blood that she wipes off her mouth with a stained towel with her free hand.

"Stef…" she starts, before shaking her head. "I like the book. I read it a few times myself. All my books are still in my apartment," she says quietly, looking off in a direction as if seeing someone there. "Do we have checkers?"

"I have to agree with Gillian on that one. And as much of a rogue as you may be, you still can't hear the phrase 'pulsing hot man muscle' without cringing." Lynette doesn't have a towel, still a modestly sized handkerchief, and yet covered in stains. Perhaps she's hoping to never need the towel's width and absorption capabilities. But it's clutched in her hand all the same.

"We do have checkers," Lynette says, only mildly blinking at the name Stef. But then, a lot of the sicker folk have been saying random things during the duration. One has to wonder, what will I say when it's my turn. "Liza was kind enough to find us a set. Abby has been kicking my ass at it ever since."

"I like checkers, my Dah and I would play it all the time, not my fault you're not the best player" Point. Of. Fact. Abby grins, conceding that no, those times of running naked were not of her own doing but more for lack of clothing. "I'm good at checkers, you're good at reading smut" Stef is a name that she hasn't heard from Gillian, but knows the woman has been hallucinating. "You need any water Gillian? I can get the checkers set and play against you"

"I don't really like checkers— I like chess," Gillian says quietly, pulling back into her bed a little and grabbing the covers to pull them up around her. At least she isn't pulling the curtains closed again, like she sometimes does, she's just covering up to try and stop the shivers. Shivers that don't seem to have anything to do with how cold her body is— cause she's still burning up.

"You two can play, though."

Lynette points over to Gillain. "Chess was the only game we played in my house. But then, my father was a lawyer. He didn't have time for too much playing around." She looks back to Abby, smirking a little, "But I'm picking up this game, little lady. I'll be on your heels any day now." She pauses there, having to pick up her water for a long drink. And then drinks a little more.

"There, see, you and Lynette can play chess when you're feeling up to it" For now, she can take the message, take the hint. Gillian needs to retreat again and Abby doens't stop her. Just takes her time getting up off the bed that she's sitting on so she can shuffle to the other side of Lynette and back to her own bed. "Nope Lynette, you won't win. That once was a fluke." She looks back towards the tattoo's brunette. "You sure there's nothing I can get you? I can ask for someone to bring you a hot drin-" The K cut off by her own bout of coughing, arms going to her ribs to support them.

"I think I should go back to sleep," Gillian says quietly, pulling the covers closer again. "But a hot drink would be nice," she adds after a moment, looking toward the red haired teen who's up and about rather than laying in her bed. Juniper really does look far more healthy than most of the adults, almost as good as the recent additions, smiling and spending all her time fussing over the kids— and occassionally casting a glance over toward Gillian and their group.

Chances are she wouldn't mind a reading of Mean Heat either.

"It was a sign of things to come," Lynette corrects. But as she sets the book aside, she turns on her cot, letting Gillian have her uninterrupted retreat. Lord knows Lynette doesn't relish watching what's in store for her and Abby later. "Just don't collapse while you run around, Abby. I'm far too tired to pick you up." And for the moment, far too tired to do more than flop the travel-sized checkers set on the little table between her and Abby's cots. She'll get it set up in a minute.

"I won't collapse, I promise" Abigail murmurs. "why don't you keep reading to Gillian? I'll get someone to bring us tea and then I'll sit and we cna play another round of checkers, maybe they can dig up a chess set somewhere" Maybe. Abigail looks kindly over to Gillian before she shuffles off in search of someone to talk to who isn't busy administering drugs or such.

"If you keep reading I may have sexy dreams," Gillian says as she lays down against the bed, staring off into the air beside Lynette rather than the blonde. Mostly due to the way the beds are positioned, but she's looking at someone else. Someone who isn't really there.

"Sexy dreams are better than the usual ones," she adds with a lopsided smile, before she covers a cough with her hand, and that used towel.

"Well, consider it my gift to you. Secretly, I think Abby just wants to miss the sex," Lynette says, giving the southern belle a little wink. She reaches over to grab the book again, and after another, bloodier cough attack, she opens the book again. There's even a little gesture toward Juniper to come join them, if she'd like.

Which may be why Lynette'll never be voted mother of the year, but hey.

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