Let's all NOT try and be like Harry Houdini~

[wlitig_folc]

CHARACTERS: Arthur Kirkland (England) [wlitig_folc] and anyone who wants to visit a dying man. Apparently Francis Bonnefoy (France) [aucun_regret], Che Céspedes (Cuba) [mojitostand], and Raivis Galante (Latvia) [maz_trusis] do.
WHEN: 20th October, Midday.
WHERE: Hospital Room #357
WHAT: Arthur, trapped in a hospital room with food even he knows is bad and only his thoughts to keep him

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[maz_trusis]

He shook his head, looking over the sparse furnishings in the hospital room. Chairs, of course, some of metal and some of wood and one permanent chair made of heavier wood with a cheap cushion placed upon it; a television that probably didn't work, and even if it did it would only have five channels to surf through; a picture of something generic, the glare from the sunlight streaming through the windows obscuring its mundane imagery; a door leading to the patient's personal washroom, presumably because patients had a knack for releasing various unwanted (or sometimes wanted) fluids from orifices at the drop of a hat; and, of course, the equipment hooked up to Arthur, the IV taped to his hand dripping fluids and medications into the man, keeping him hydrated and medicated as needed. The boy could clearly see the nursing call button by his bed, along with other buttons and gadgets of which he knew not their use other than probably to help make his friend's brother more comfortable.

Cautiously, he stepped forward into a place he would ordinarily avoid. He was so very young the last time he had entered a hospital to meet someone he knew--someone he loved--who was dying. "N-No..." he said, his voice more distant and soft than it usually was. Memory shot through him, but he ignored the sounds of beeping machines and whirling machines and hissing machines and clicking machines. He ignored the sound of doctors speaking in hushed voices to nurses, of the patient's labored breathing, of his mother's weeping, and his own voice echoing as tears had streamed down his face, his shivering body held by the gentle hands of his sister.

He ignored it as he stared at Arthur, shaking the feeling off as he spoke though his tone was still different than it usually was, "Would you rather that I'd b-brought him with me? We... we're still having tutoring tonight, but... if you want, I can... take him here instead...?" Raivis pulled one of the wooden chairs next to the bed, set the small vase of flowers (carnations, daisies, and lily of the valley) on the night stand near his bed, then seated himself in the chair, the small bag of items he brought settling into his lap for the moment. "I-I just wanted to make sure you were all right before seeing him today..."

[wlitig_folc]

"Oh no, you needn't bother," he said, looking to the flowers with a lightened expression and softly murmuring his thanks for the gift. They cast an immediately pleasing scent, not strong enough to overpower the smell that the hospital itself, but at least enough to settle his nerves a degree or two.

"I wouldn't have expected Peter would care to come anyway," he said, returning to the topic of his brother. "But if you would be so kind please tell him that he's likely the most miserable wretch that I have ever had the displeasure of knowing as my brother." He smiled slightly, looking at Raivis pleasantly. "If you would be so kind."

Drawing in a breath he let it out again slowly, shifting slightly again. "As you can see I believe I am well. Just...trapped in here, that is all. I was hoping to get out fairly quickly but that does not look to be the case, as it turns out."

[maz_trusis]

He wasn't entirely sure if the Englishman was joking or not, as he was still bad at understanding English sarcasm and English humor, and he smiled awkwardly at the remarks, giving a faint chuckle. "I'm sorry that-that you're... trapped here," he looked to the IV dripping steadily into Arthur's vein, "b-but if there's anything you'd like me to do o-or help with, I can really try." He bit his lip, gaze lifting up to meet the other's, this time his smile becoming more confident.

Raivis hated hospitals. Horrible memories always surfaced in hospitals, but really he had no choice but to visit hospitals at some point. Hospitals were almost unavoidable, no matter how often he tried to avoid them. Perhaps it was not just the memories tied to hospitals that triggered such ill feelings, but the sounds and smells. So often hospitals sounded of the mechanisms that kept life stable but also the sounds of life being kept stable despite the patient's will to live having long left; so often the smells of hospitals were that of drugs and mechines that gave hope but also the smells of death and despair. For all the good that could be said of hospitals, there was always the underlying darkness and disappointment--a black taint that had settled itself just below the clean white surfaces.

The Latvian stroked the plastic bag on his lap for a second before opening it up, pulling out some of the items within. "I... I-I brought some books for you from my house," he said shyly, holding out one of them, a more recent fantasy novel. "You like fantasy, r-right?" He handed the book off to dig through the bag, pulling out the last of the items before dropping the bag of books on the nightstand. "O-Oh, and I, um, I brought paper and pencils and pens for you, j-just in case you feel like writing to pass the time... o-or doodling, if that's what you do..." His laughter was nervous as he set the notepad and a small handful of pencils and pens held together by a rubber band onto Arthur's lap, making sure to avoid the incision site as he had no desire to disturb the stitching glued beneath Dermabond and bandages.