Weeks. He'd only really eaten or slept when it was absolutely forced on him by his body, and bathing was a luxury infrequently considered.
He was still rather natty, for all that, with well-pressed shirts and a clean face, just that it was a little bit last-minute and patchy. And of course, there was the large bit of glass through his wand-hand. He made a note to himself: don't try new potions-creating strategies without sleeping first. He kept the blood-flow at a minimum with a handkerchief as he hurried in. "Excuse me, hello? I've had a small explosion."
"Bad enough -- I've got half a vial through my wand hand." He peeled back the loosely-positioned cloth to show her. "I suppose I wasn't paying quite enough attention."
Agnes gave him a meaningful look, which conveyed pretty much what she wanted to say right now, which was: 'You're an idiote, boye.'
"Alright, we'll fixe you uppe in a jiffey." she said, pulling out her wand. "Sit downe on the bed." she ordered, pointing to one of the empty ones nearby.
For once, Simon couldn't argue. "I wanted to get this one more project done before I had to sleep," he protested, but it was a token protest. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and tried not to feel woozy staring at his own hand.
Agnes shook her head. "Potions while sleepy? Only an imbicile woulde try that! One moment you're stirring, the next, your entire village is after you because you accidentally cured all their warts!" she observed the wound carefully and nodded to herself, formulating a plan.
"Well, it isn't as if I have a living patient right now," he pointed out. He cracked his neck and yawned -- the lack of sleep really was catching up with him, and... wait. "... wouldn't curing warts be a good thing?"
She shook her head. "Politics." she said knowledgably. "Nobody in those days wanted to deal with a witch without a wart or two, bad for business." she calmly ignored her wrinkled, but completely wart free face. She always had good genes, damn her. "Nowe, this maye hurt a little..." she said, preparing a spell. Who the helle am I kidding? May hurt a bit?
Oh, hell. Yes, he was expecting it to hurt a bit, but he was also expecting her to do some kind of anesthetic before just yanking and chucking. And normally even then he'd be okay, but if you combine that with the lack of sleep, the lack of food, the loss of blood...
... he swayed dangerously, managed to stay up barely long enough for the spell, and then thumped over backwards onto the bed he was sitting on, all but out cold.
And calling it 'a while' was pushing it.
Weeks. He'd only really eaten or slept when it was absolutely forced on him by his body, and bathing was a luxury infrequently considered.
He was still rather natty, for all that, with well-pressed shirts and a clean face, just that it was a little bit last-minute and patchy. And of course, there was the large bit of glass through his wand-hand. He made a note to himself: don't try new potions-creating strategies without sleeping first. He kept the blood-flow at a minimum with a handkerchief as he hurried in. "Excuse me, hello? I've had a small explosion."
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"Alright, we'll fixe you uppe in a jiffey." she said, pulling out her wand. "Sit downe on the bed." she ordered, pointing to one of the empty ones nearby.
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... he swayed dangerously, managed to stay up barely long enough for the spell, and then thumped over backwards onto the bed he was sitting on, all but out cold.
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