(Untitled)

[goldracquet]

Pomfrey says I'll be able to breathe properly again, but she won't tell me when. All this coughing and chest pain and general lack of air is not on at all. And these meds are doing all sorts of shite to any coherency I should have. I'm getting really fucking tired of passing out and having to take overly-strong pain potions and I'm worried about

Comments

[simplypadma]

I'm glad you're ok.

[goldracquet]

Thank you. How are you faring? I don't think you were injured, were you?

[simplypadma]

Are you feeling up for visitors? Maybe someday I'll come by and you'll all be awake at once.

I'm fine, but bored and lonely. Is there anything you want me to get you from your room? Michael already sent me for his chocolate stash.

[goldracquet]

You're perfectly free to come by -- I can't guarantee I'll be awake, but if you let me or Pomfrey (or both) know when you'll be by, I can probably convince her to leave me alone so I could actually talk to you.

That's very nice of you. There are a few books and magazines on my bedside table (one of them is about tennis, so that should tip you off) -- if you could bring them next time you stop by for whatever reason, that would be ace.

[simplypadma]

All right. I'll try to sneak in before you nod off again.

Excellent. I shall drop them by your bed if you're sleeping.

[goldracquet]

Thanks a lot -- I appreciate it.