Participants:
| Scene Title | Uncomplicated |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | When Anders is sick, Helena comes to visit him and ends up bringing him into the Ferrymen's care. |
| Date | March 23, 2010 |
Anders' Apartment - Summer Meadows
Between trying to fight off the weather and struggling with the speeches for Youtube she's writing, plus the work involved in her prep course for her start at Columbia, Helena's been under a lot of pressure. She keeps forgetting that she doesn't have to hide anymore, that she can be seen in public, and what's more, in just a few weeks? She will be completely, one hundred percent legal for all things that Americans have a right to do. Bring on the booze! Not that she doesn't. But. Bring on the booze, legally!
She happens to stumble on Anders' number, tucked into the pocket of a pair of jeans. The little bit of paper is a touch streaked from havng gone through the wash, but still legible.
Uncomplicated guys are nice.
In Anders' apartment, the phone rings.
The man in question is sprawled on his sofa, napping when the phone rings. He fumbles for it, finding it in last night's jeans that are on the floor not far from the couch — he's not the neatest of people. He glances at the display, one eyebrow shooting up with amusement, and presses the green button.
"'Sup?" he asks. Suave, isn't he? "How goes it for the cutest little rebel in Manhattan?"
Despite herself - no, not despite herself, actually, Helena smiles. "Hi, Anders." she says. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in going out tonight." There. That was easy. She actually kind of blinks at how easy that was, until she starts to wonder if maybe that was too blunt. What if it was too blunt? Okay, now she starts to go into anxious mode, but silence keeps it from being betrayed.
"Oh, man," Anders says, his tone first excited, and then repeats himself, sounding disappointed. "Oh, man."
There is a heavy sigh, and he coughs a little, the sound muffled as he turns away from the phone. "Sorry bout that. Look, you're aces and all, and I'd totalllly love to see you again, but I'm down with some bad shit. Don't worry — you shouldn't catch it, but I've been getting really weak over the past few days, and now got this cough… My boss won't let me take off work, so I been working anyway. He doesn't know I'm… you know. I'm unregistered, and I really need the job, and if he fires me, I'm screwed." He pauses. "It could just be a cold."
Helena considers a moment. It could just be a cold. It could be something worse. Then, "I could come see you?" she suggests. "Bring you some chicken soup, Emergen-C." She grins faintly, which he hears more in her voice since he can't see it. "Come play nurse." She absently starts wondering about shots; how hard it would be to get one for him. She's not even sure she wants one for herself and - oh, this is totally putting the carriage before the horses, isn't it? "I mean, I don't mind. I'm not doing anything."
On the other side of the line, there's a pause, followed by another muffled, away-from-the-phone cough. "You would do that for me? I mean… you're powered, right? you could get sick, if it's this crappy flu that's going around, right?" He sounds touched. "That's super sweet of you. I'd like it, but I'd hate to get you sick, du— Helena." He actually corrected himself — he's been told that girls do not like to be called 'dude' and he vaguely remembers, it would seem. "Up to you. But if you come, you should totalllly wear a hot little nurse's uniform. And white fishnets."
He's got a point. Nonetheless, "I think we're okay if you don't, you know, sneeze on me or cough on me and we don't get touchy feely. And if you're really that sick, maybe I can look into getting you some help. I know people who are trying to help folks who are unregistered."
"You'd do that for me?" he says again. "Well. I'll lysol everything down, and you come wrapped in latex. That'd be hot, too, and you know, super safe. It's all about precautions!" He's chipper enough — but he has good reason, with his own personal nursemaid coming to his bedside. Or couchside. Whatever works. "See you in a bit, then."
She lets out a laugh. "Don't be disapointed if it's just a t-shirt and jeans." she says, and with that, "See you soon."
It takes her about an hour to get to him, between picking up supplies and having to get over through the snow. Fortunately, it is a little easier for her. When she finally knocks on the door, she's got a brown paper bag curled in one arm and a plastic bag from a drugstore in the other.
When Anders answers the door, he certainly looks like he has worse than a cold. His eyes are red and bloodshot, his cheeks flushed. "Hey… no white fishnet? But I suppose you'll do," he says with a wide grin, one corner of his mouth quirked further to the side than the other. "Come on in. Sorry about the mess." There's a wastebasket full of balled up tissues and the coffee table has a couple of pill bottles on it — Tylenol and cough drops. "I expected you to be wearing one of them SARS masks or something," he adds.
Almost the moment she walks in the door, Helena's influence begins to warm the wretched little apartment to more comfortable levels. "Sorry about that." she smiles. She walks in rather bravely given how awful he looks, but she's careful not to touch him. "I almost brought rubber gloves, but then I figured, too kinky." She looks over her shoulder at him once she's in the apartment all the way and adds in concern, "You're really don't look well, A. But let's get you warm and comfortable and fed. I've got soup and Emergen-C, and…well. We can figure out if you need more than that."
"Too kinky or … too terrifying!" he gives her a wide-eyed look and then smirks again. At least he still has his sense of humor. "Yeah, I think I kinda took a turn for the worse after you called. And I think … I think it's affecting my ability. Is that one of the symptoms? I don't have that interweb shit you fancy people have," this is said with a wink, though there's no sign of a computer in the apartment, "so I couldn't look up all the symptoms of this versus normal swine flu or whatever. I can only kinda … get faint, rather than disappear all together." He flops on the couch, wincing a little as if it hurts him to do so. "Head hurts." He pouts up at her.
Helena hesitates in the entranceway of his little kitchenette. "Yeah," she admits, "I think it is." She cocks her head. "Look - I've got friends - people I know, anyway, who're helping out folks who arent' registered. They've set up hospices, ones the government won't try to make you produce a card for. If you want, I can call them, see about getting you a bed. Some of my best friends are sick, too."
"I … I guess that might be good…" he says with a frown, reaching up to rub his head. "I took some meds but it doesn't feel like anything I've had before, and if it's … it seems like it will only get worse. I coughed up a little blood before you got here… don't worry, I washed my hands and I cleaned up a little. Sprayed everything down." There is a scent of Lysol in the air. "Hey…" he says, with a grin. "It's getting warm in here. You're handy. I bet your electric bill is nothing."
"I think it might be best, and look - if you lose your job, Cat's got ways of getting people employed." she says. "I know you barely know me or her, but I'm not going to stand by when I can help someone, so hopefully you're not freaking out." She goes into the kitchen then, to search out a bowl to pour the soup in. "If you want to think about the hospice thing for a bit, that's okay."
"I am worried about losing my job, but I guess I can find another. I don't think I can go in tonight, feeling like this. I'd pass out and some guy would come in and steal all the raspberry slush from the slushie machine, and it would be all on me." Anders is clearly joking, though he doesn't laugh this time, his head leaning back against the back of the sofa, eyes closing as if he lacks the energy to keep them open any longer. "I trust you," he adds, then coughs again, bringing an arm up to cover his face.
ORDER: It is now your pose.
Helena laughs. "You want me to call your work for you? Will it sound better or worse for you, if someone else makes the call?" She starts puttering around in his kitchen.
"Umm. I can call. My boss is an ass… he'd probably think I put you up to it to make it sound more realistic … I'll just… fuck it. I probably just have to quit. It's fine. It was a sucky job anyway, and it's not like he can keep it open for me for however long this flu is supposed to last. It's okay. I'm used to not being gainfully employed," he says, then groans, stretching out on the couch while she works in the kitchen.
ORDER: It is now your pose.
It takes a few moments, but eventually Helena returns with a bowl of soup and a spoon, which she sets on whatever he uses for a coffee table. "I'm not feeding you. I do draw a line somewhere." she tells him with a grin. "Cat owns a bar that has a restaurant attached in the Village. But even then, I wouldn't worry about it until you're better. Yeah?"
He glances at the soup from one opened eye and then peers up at her. "Awww," he says with disappointment, then grins, slowly sitting up and wincing again. He hunkers over the soup, picking up the spoon and starting to eat, slowly. "Did you make it yourself? Should I be all the more impressed? You can lie to me and say you did. I'll just chalk it up to lots of things I'll owe you when I get better." Wink wink. Nudge Nudge.
Helena doesn't bat an eye. "I totally made it myself." Helena smiles widely, and adds, "Don't look in your garbage can in the kitchen." Cuz then he'll see the deli carton it came in. She takes a seat nearby and grins. "I like how uncomplicated you are." she adds.
"Yeah?" Cockeyed grin. "Well, I like how you make that sound like a good thing. Most the chicks I've dated think it's something to string a guy up by the balls for, you know? Like, I'm a bad guy because I like to have a good time or something." He takes a few spoonfuls of soup and then leans back again, one arm flung over his eyes. "Chicken Soup for the Evo-Soul, coming to a bookstore near you soon."
Helena laughs at that. "Um. Well, I did complicated for about…a year, year and a half? And it didn't end well. Actually, the whole process wasn't great in retrospect. So I think the watchword for me now is the opposite of that."
"Well, lucky for me. Complicated lost out," Anders says with a grin, though it's muffled by his arm covering his face. "You think this … what'd you call it, hospice thing … is better than a hospital? I don't wanna register, but I don't wanna die in some warehouse or something either because I didn't have a real doctor. I heard on the radio that people are actually dying from this crap."
Helena considers seriously before answering. "It's hard to say." she admits. "I think it depends on a combination of how paranoid you are and how much it matters to you that you stay unregistered. The people I know are trying to help, and I don't think they'd try to steer you wrong - but their resources are limited."
He nods beneath his arm. "I trust you and your friends. And I don't think I'm likely to die… I mean, I'm pretty much a healthy guy, things like colds and such don't get me down long. I guess I'm just scared. But shh. Don't tell anyone. I'll deny it when I feel better and tell stories of you coming over in latex to nurse me if you tell anyone." He chuckles and drops his arm. "I'll go."
"No rush just yet. Drink your soup." Helena orders with a smile, and takes her phone out of her pocket, dialing a number.
Anders snickers, grinning as he salutes. "Yes, mistress," he teases, before sitting forward again. Leaning elbows on his knees, he begins to spoon more of the steaming soup into his mouth.
"It's pretty good for storebough— I mean totally Helena-homemade." He watches her pull out the phone, quieting so she can talk to whomever it is she is contacting on the other side.
She laughs, and looking over her shoulder. "Don't make me break out the whip, sickie." she teases, and chats on the phone. "Alright. Someone will be coming to pick us up. You want me to put together some things for you?"
"Ooooh," says an impressed voice, colored by a smirk. "Nah, I'll do it. I mean… man, I probably have dirty chonies and stuff that you don't need to see. I'll go do that." He gets up with a groan and heads into the bedroom to find a duffel bag, throwing some clothes and various items in it, then the bathroom to get his toothbrush and other toiletries. "Thanks, if I didn't say it…" he calls, before she can hear a loogy getting coughed into the sink. Charming.
"You're welcome." Helena replies easily, and moves to sit by the window to watch for the car.
