After
things go pear-shaped with Tiwa ...
They go arguably
even more pear-shaped. (Warning for sexual content of dubious consent in both links. Also: demons.)If you thought you'd seen Matt at the most miserable and exhausted he could get, you haven't seen him tonight. He's in the middle of the bar at a (relatively) brightly lit table, methodically
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Bluntly:
"You look worse. Have you seen a physician yet? Do I have to drag you?"
Jordie is NOT MESSING AROUND, friends.
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He hasn't found anything that's implied he hurt Jordie, or even tried to.
"... Can you summarize our last interaction?"
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"We were upstairs. You promised me you were going to see a medical professional about your sleep problems. You told me you made an appointment. I was vaguely ominous about the kinds of really bad things that could be wrong with you. And now it looks like we can add short-term memory loss to the list of symptoms."
(He hasn't seen the sign.)
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Okay. Well. If he'd made a move or anything, surely Jordie would tell him about it, probably in a manner that included mockery.
(Unless Matt had made him forget.
That possibility is highly unpleasant.)
"Well," he sighs ruefully, and rubs at his eyes, "the good news is, I found a highly plausible candidate on the really-bad-things-wrong-with-me front. I may have to cancel that appointment."
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Jordie has a one-track mind!
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Does no one read signs??
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Jordie's mouth opens and then closes and then he does it again so he looks like a fish.
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"And this one, apparently, has been stalking me since I was in high school. I mean, it's the same one-- it's the exact same one, it." He cuts himself off, but not before his hand has drifted up to trace his scar.
"That's not the point." He collects himself, with effort. "The point is, last time I talked to you, it was. Also along for the ride."
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He rubs his eyes.
"Okay." Faintly. "Okay. So. I'm standing here trying to remember everything I know about parasitic relationships, which isn't as much as it could be. Long story short is that you still need to see a medical professional. You need a physical, a full battery of bloodwork -- "
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"But I can't go home right now."
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"I will trot out the horror stories about your heart literally exploding in your chest." It doesn't matter whether or not they're true. "Go home. See a physician. Get some rest. Follow your treatment plan."
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"It's upstairs."
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Jordie doesn't 'do' demons.
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What does it say??? Is he missing this because he's tired?
"No. I'm not fucking leaving. Not until I talk to somebody who is my equivalent or better at dealing with hostile spirits and know that this thing is getting taken care of." He pauses, reaching for his half full cup of coffee. "And not until I ... at least try to apologize ... to all the people I really, really need to apologize to."
There's no card for sorry I used my sex magic to deplete your precious mystical power.
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He says that last while straightening and turning for the stairs up to the second floor.
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Yes that, for the curious, was a yelp. Matt scrambles from his chair, spilling coffee and upsetting candles as he goes.
It's at this moment that he really, truly realizes how fucking useless this is. Maybe, maybe Security around here could block off the stairwell, but it's not like that's going to stop anybody-- and in the meantime, there's a steady back-and-forth, people coming and going with no regard for signs posted for their well-being.
Matt races to try to get ahead of him. "Look don't, please, it's only eaten people I know--"
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