Apartment; Sarah; Sick
Tissues litter the floor, crumpled and slightly green tinged. The politeness of their use probably only beginning /after/ Toad was caught wiping said mess along the couch arm that he's currently propped up on. He stretches out along the length of the cushions, bare feet wiggling as he rocks to the music pumping out of the white earplugs stuck in deep so that the fortunate toad cannot hear himself. "Look there he goes, Isn't he dreamy? Monsieur Gaston, Oh he's so cute!"
From the depths of her bedroom, Sarah stares out at Toad as he sings along with what seems to be something Disney. Her brows are furrowed under her horns and a guitar is rested in her lap. She has been trying to drown the scene in the living room out unsuccessfully. Bony fingers clench tightly at the neck of her instrument as she bellows loudly, in a voice fit for her old stage act. "Toad!"
"Ech!" Toad croaks, jerking with surprise. The white buds pop out of his ears, his balance tipping his bulk enough to send the poor little man off the couch an into his own snotty-wad mess. "/Wot/?" he complains, picking himself and wiping under his nose with a wet snuffle.
"What the /hell/ are you groaning along with?" She remains where she is, visible at the foot of her bed through the open door. Sarah has a strong stomach, but even she is looking green around the gills at the sight of him in his snot-wad mess. "Don't you think you can use a fucking trash can? I don't need to see that shit all over my floor."
Toad looks at her owlishly before he sluggishly plucks the ipod into his hand and jabs the center button. "Uh. Stole it off some girl on the subway. Beauty an' the beast, luff. Jus' like us. Guess which one you are?" Toad snorts proudly at himself, holding the music player for her to see before slumping back onto the couch. "Give a guy a break, m'sicker than a dog, I am."
Sarah narrows her green eyes at the green man. "If you stole it off some girl, how the fuck do you know the words?" The musician will not allow the wool pulled over her eyes so easily. "Yeah, no shit you're sick. I can practically /smell/ it from in here. But shit, you're going to get me sick throwing your fuckin' snot all over the place. Do you really want to be living in the same apartment with me when I'm all cranky?"
"Uh," Toad starts, instead making a grumpy noise and tossing the ipod away to the other side of the couch. "Hurr. Like you're 'ny threat, bone'ead. Why dun' yer do somethin' useful like send poor sick Toad a nice lit'l lullaby, eh?" He kicks his heels back up on the couch, hooking laced hands behind his head.
"Just because you're sick, Toad, doesn't mean I won't put my boot right through that snotty fucking nose." To emphasize this point, Sarah climbs up from her bed and sets the guitar aside with a twang of strings upset in the process.
Toad's hands unlace, an elbow propped up on the couch arm as he tenses up. "Two more steps!" he warns in a slightly higher voice. "Two more steps an' ye'll be poudin' orange juice an' prayin' to the kleenex gods. M'warnin' yah!"
There is suddenly a nasty, dangerous grin on Sarah's face. "Funny thing about having a metabolism so goddamn high. Takes all kinds of hell for me to get sick and stay sick." And then she does something rare for her. She /runs/ at Toad. Instead of trying to hit him, however, she just kicks at the arm of the couch near where he is propped up.
"Fwaah!" Toad yelps, flying up with a scrambled hop off the couch. He grabs for the ceiling, sticking there by the bare stickiness of toes and fingers. Toad shoots her a pitiful look down. "/Fuck/," he huffs in a stuffy voice. "Lemme alone ye' blasted loon!"
Sarah lets out a coarse, hacking laugh over Toad ending up on the ceiling to dodge her fake kick at him. "Aw, come down here ya big fuckin' sissy. I wasn't even going to hit you." She rolls her eyes and heads for the refrigerator, carefully stepping over any tissue-bombs in her path.
Toad makes a small, hushed whimper, hands sliding as the flu-sapped adhesive gives way. He slaps back to the floor with a grunt, laying there with a glare tilts upside down at Sarah. "When does Turtle get 'ome?"
"Whenever the room turns into something out of Lord of the Rings. When else?" She opens the fridge loudly and rummages. Jason has, at least, been delightful about stealing food. Sarah comes up with a package of hot links and a beer in hand. She lifts both toward Toad, "You feel too shitty for something to eat or drink?"
Toad slumps weakly before picking himself to all fours and hop-hobbling to the edge of the kitchen. He leans against the side of the counter, knees bent underneath him. "Water, could yeh?" he wonders up at her helplessly.
Sarah looks at the slumping Toad for a moment before she decides not to be a bitch, for a change. A big plastic cup from a convenience store is yanked out of a cupboard and filled with water before she offers it out to him. "There. Now don't you ever bitch about me being mean to you while you were sick. Got me?"
Toad takes the cup eagerly in both hands, turning his shoulder to let his back slide against the counter the short ways to a sit. "Aye," he agrees almost kindly as he guzzles down half the cup. "This mutant chick, yer know? Not of'en Toad gets sick, but she sure s'fuck did me in."
With a lazy yank of the plastic around the hot links against her elbow, Sarah uses the spikey bone there to open it. She wolfs down one of the sausages without bothering to warm it. Precooked at least! "Seriously? Some chick did that? Did you kick her ass?"
Toad grunts past another long sip of water. He busily wipes the water from his lips. "Couldn't, now could I? Being as sick as this. Got one good spit in, though. Shoulda shot it at 'er face, huh?"
"No shit, man. Fuck, if someone /did/ this, are you even going to get better?" Sarah asks, a little flicker of actual concern showing up on her.
"'Ope so," Toad murmurs into his cup. Yellow, sick-crusted eyes look up at her. "Couldn't imagine wot a doctor would say if I walked inter 'is office, could you? Harr."
"Shit, if it doesn't clear up in a few days, we might have to drag your ass into an emergency room or something." She hisses out a little laugh. "Think they'd freak out and call the cops or something, even if you were all pitiful like this?"
"'Course they would," Toad scolds. "M'a very wanted criminal terrorist, I'll be 'avin' you know, lass. Worked m'ass off ter earn that, too." The cup is held up to her with a sad look. More, please!
Even Marrow is not immune to the puppy eyes (crusty though they may be.) She snatches the cup and turns to refill it, her spikey back turned toward Toad for the moment as she talks. "Yeah. Kind of a pain in the ass. We could get Jason to uh... hide you long enough to get some antibiotics or some shit?"
Toad's lips slides in a bleary smile as his cup is taken. "Maybe," he allows, a finger pulling at his bottom lip thoughtfully as he waits. "Yer think it'd be a bit risky, luff? Dunno. I think I'll be fine. Feel a wee bit bet'er already 'nyways."
The cup is returned and Sarah makes a point of washing her hands. Toad snot is gross. "Just thinkin'. Shit, someone has to be the grown-up in this house. And it sure as hell ain't you or Jason," she says, a crooked little grin on her gaunt face.
Toad's fingers wiggle for the second glass which is downed only a bit more slowly than the first. "M'older than you!" Toad feels compelled to point up. "M'jus' sick s'all."
"I ain't listening to fuckin' Disney songs," Sarah points out as she returns to her snack. Another hot link is devoured in short order, as if she were starved.
"Jus' 'coz the tune is a bit catchy," Toad retorts after a wet cough. Once the water is done he begins to chew on the rim. His gaze is locked up on the hot link and he shifts his weight carefully.
Sarah looks down at the staring Toad. "Are you hungry?" she asks after a moment, reaching into the package to retrieve another of the links. She offers it out to him with the warning, "If you throw up, you're cleaning it yourself. Seriously."
Toad's hands leave his cup, the rim still stuck between his teeth. He reaches cautiously, tilting his head with a slim amount of fascination. The link is brought down and the cup quickly shooed away before his tongue darts out to give it a testing lick. "S'bit rich," he mumbles to himself, giving the thing another swipe with his tongue. "Dun' got a nice lit'l mouse on yer person?"
Sarah smirks down at him. "Nah. Shit out of mice." She takes the last of the links out of the package and devours it in three quick bites. Only then does the pop the top on her beer and take a swig of it. "Fuck, it's nice having food."
Toad grumps down at the little sausage, beginning to nibble fitfully at it. "Mrf," he replies while tearing the skin of the sausage with a clip of his yellowed teeth.
With a longer drink of beer, Sarah leans her head back. "You'll survive, Toad. You're too fuckin' annoying not to be fine," she assures him with a crooked grin.
Toad starts to roll his small bite around his mouth, finally sticking his tongue out with the soggy chewed mess on it. It's quickly scraped into the cup with a disgusted noise. His tongue is reeled back into his mouth with a wet slurp. "Ain't life grand?" he says back with a rumbling chuckle. "M'gonna go on the roof an' see if I can snag a pigeon 'r two. You wanna come?"
Sarah's tongue is stuck out as well, smaller and far less toady. She cringes over his display with the chewed up bit of sausage. "Nah, I'll leave 'em to you," she says, heading back toward her bedroom. "Ugh," she says, after stepping on a tissue. There is a little choke noise.
Toad deposits the rest of his link into the cup and reaches to push it up on the counter. "Yer loss," he announces innocently, waddling to the door and fumbling with the door handle before giving a feverish little sigh and exiting out into the hallway. Toad is gone for a rather long time, unsuccessfully catching a snack and instead curling up to sleep in a patch of shade behind one of the bulky vent tops.
There is no search party sent up to find him. Instead, Sarah stays in her bedroom brooding over some guitar piece she is working on putting together for the rest of the afternoon.
Bonding time!
From the depths of her bedroom, Sarah stares out at Toad as he sings along with what seems to be something Disney. Her brows are furrowed under her horns and a guitar is rested in her lap. She has been trying to drown the scene in the living room out unsuccessfully. Bony fingers clench tightly at the neck of her instrument as she bellows loudly, in a voice fit for her old stage act. "Toad!"
"Ech!" Toad croaks, jerking with surprise. The white buds pop out of his ears, his balance tipping his bulk enough to send the poor little man off the couch an into his own snotty-wad mess. "/Wot/?" he complains, picking himself and wiping under his nose with a wet snuffle.
"What the /hell/ are you groaning along with?" She remains where she is, visible at the foot of her bed through the open door. Sarah has a strong stomach, but even she is looking green around the gills at the sight of him in his snot-wad mess. "Don't you think you can use a fucking trash can? I don't need to see that shit all over my floor."
Toad looks at her owlishly before he sluggishly plucks the ipod into his hand and jabs the center button. "Uh. Stole it off some girl on the subway. Beauty an' the beast, luff. Jus' like us. Guess which one you are?" Toad snorts proudly at himself, holding the music player for her to see before slumping back onto the couch. "Give a guy a break, m'sicker than a dog, I am."
Sarah narrows her green eyes at the green man. "If you stole it off some girl, how the fuck do you know the words?" The musician will not allow the wool pulled over her eyes so easily. "Yeah, no shit you're sick. I can practically /smell/ it from in here. But shit, you're going to get me sick throwing your fuckin' snot all over the place. Do you really want to be living in the same apartment with me when I'm all cranky?"
"Uh," Toad starts, instead making a grumpy noise and tossing the ipod away to the other side of the couch. "Hurr. Like you're 'ny threat, bone'ead. Why dun' yer do somethin' useful like send poor sick Toad a nice lit'l lullaby, eh?" He kicks his heels back up on the couch, hooking laced hands behind his head.
"Just because you're sick, Toad, doesn't mean I won't put my boot right through that snotty fucking nose." To emphasize this point, Sarah climbs up from her bed and sets the guitar aside with a twang of strings upset in the process.
Toad's hands unlace, an elbow propped up on the couch arm as he tenses up. "Two more steps!" he warns in a slightly higher voice. "Two more steps an' ye'll be poudin' orange juice an' prayin' to the kleenex gods. M'warnin' yah!"
There is suddenly a nasty, dangerous grin on Sarah's face. "Funny thing about having a metabolism so goddamn high. Takes all kinds of hell for me to get sick and stay sick." And then she does something rare for her. She /runs/ at Toad. Instead of trying to hit him, however, she just kicks at the arm of the couch near where he is propped up.
"Fwaah!" Toad yelps, flying up with a scrambled hop off the couch. He grabs for the ceiling, sticking there by the bare stickiness of toes and fingers. Toad shoots her a pitiful look down. "/Fuck/," he huffs in a stuffy voice. "Lemme alone ye' blasted loon!"
Sarah lets out a coarse, hacking laugh over Toad ending up on the ceiling to dodge her fake kick at him. "Aw, come down here ya big fuckin' sissy. I wasn't even going to hit you." She rolls her eyes and heads for the refrigerator, carefully stepping over any tissue-bombs in her path.
Toad makes a small, hushed whimper, hands sliding as the flu-sapped adhesive gives way. He slaps back to the floor with a grunt, laying there with a glare tilts upside down at Sarah. "When does Turtle get 'ome?"
"Whenever the room turns into something out of Lord of the Rings. When else?" She opens the fridge loudly and rummages. Jason has, at least, been delightful about stealing food. Sarah comes up with a package of hot links and a beer in hand. She lifts both toward Toad, "You feel too shitty for something to eat or drink?"
Toad slumps weakly before picking himself to all fours and hop-hobbling to the edge of the kitchen. He leans against the side of the counter, knees bent underneath him. "Water, could yeh?" he wonders up at her helplessly.
Sarah looks at the slumping Toad for a moment before she decides not to be a bitch, for a change. A big plastic cup from a convenience store is yanked out of a cupboard and filled with water before she offers it out to him. "There. Now don't you ever bitch about me being mean to you while you were sick. Got me?"
Toad takes the cup eagerly in both hands, turning his shoulder to let his back slide against the counter the short ways to a sit. "Aye," he agrees almost kindly as he guzzles down half the cup. "This mutant chick, yer know? Not of'en Toad gets sick, but she sure s'fuck did me in."
With a lazy yank of the plastic around the hot links against her elbow, Sarah uses the spikey bone there to open it. She wolfs down one of the sausages without bothering to warm it. Precooked at least! "Seriously? Some chick did that? Did you kick her ass?"
Toad grunts past another long sip of water. He busily wipes the water from his lips. "Couldn't, now could I? Being as sick as this. Got one good spit in, though. Shoulda shot it at 'er face, huh?"
"No shit, man. Fuck, if someone /did/ this, are you even going to get better?" Sarah asks, a little flicker of actual concern showing up on her.
"'Ope so," Toad murmurs into his cup. Yellow, sick-crusted eyes look up at her. "Couldn't imagine wot a doctor would say if I walked inter 'is office, could you? Harr."
"Shit, if it doesn't clear up in a few days, we might have to drag your ass into an emergency room or something." She hisses out a little laugh. "Think they'd freak out and call the cops or something, even if you were all pitiful like this?"
"'Course they would," Toad scolds. "M'a very wanted criminal terrorist, I'll be 'avin' you know, lass. Worked m'ass off ter earn that, too." The cup is held up to her with a sad look. More, please!
Even Marrow is not immune to the puppy eyes (crusty though they may be.) She snatches the cup and turns to refill it, her spikey back turned toward Toad for the moment as she talks. "Yeah. Kind of a pain in the ass. We could get Jason to uh... hide you long enough to get some antibiotics or some shit?"
Toad's lips slides in a bleary smile as his cup is taken. "Maybe," he allows, a finger pulling at his bottom lip thoughtfully as he waits. "Yer think it'd be a bit risky, luff? Dunno. I think I'll be fine. Feel a wee bit bet'er already 'nyways."
The cup is returned and Sarah makes a point of washing her hands. Toad snot is gross. "Just thinkin'. Shit, someone has to be the grown-up in this house. And it sure as hell ain't you or Jason," she says, a crooked little grin on her gaunt face.
Toad's fingers wiggle for the second glass which is downed only a bit more slowly than the first. "M'older than you!" Toad feels compelled to point up. "M'jus' sick s'all."
"I ain't listening to fuckin' Disney songs," Sarah points out as she returns to her snack. Another hot link is devoured in short order, as if she were starved.
"Jus' 'coz the tune is a bit catchy," Toad retorts after a wet cough. Once the water is done he begins to chew on the rim. His gaze is locked up on the hot link and he shifts his weight carefully.
Sarah looks down at the staring Toad. "Are you hungry?" she asks after a moment, reaching into the package to retrieve another of the links. She offers it out to him with the warning, "If you throw up, you're cleaning it yourself. Seriously."
Toad's hands leave his cup, the rim still stuck between his teeth. He reaches cautiously, tilting his head with a slim amount of fascination. The link is brought down and the cup quickly shooed away before his tongue darts out to give it a testing lick. "S'bit rich," he mumbles to himself, giving the thing another swipe with his tongue. "Dun' got a nice lit'l mouse on yer person?"
Sarah smirks down at him. "Nah. Shit out of mice." She takes the last of the links out of the package and devours it in three quick bites. Only then does the pop the top on her beer and take a swig of it. "Fuck, it's nice having food."
Toad grumps down at the little sausage, beginning to nibble fitfully at it. "Mrf," he replies while tearing the skin of the sausage with a clip of his yellowed teeth.
With a longer drink of beer, Sarah leans her head back. "You'll survive, Toad. You're too fuckin' annoying not to be fine," she assures him with a crooked grin.
Toad starts to roll his small bite around his mouth, finally sticking his tongue out with the soggy chewed mess on it. It's quickly scraped into the cup with a disgusted noise. His tongue is reeled back into his mouth with a wet slurp. "Ain't life grand?" he says back with a rumbling chuckle. "M'gonna go on the roof an' see if I can snag a pigeon 'r two. You wanna come?"
Sarah's tongue is stuck out as well, smaller and far less toady. She cringes over his display with the chewed up bit of sausage. "Nah, I'll leave 'em to you," she says, heading back toward her bedroom. "Ugh," she says, after stepping on a tissue. There is a little choke noise.
Toad deposits the rest of his link into the cup and reaches to push it up on the counter. "Yer loss," he announces innocently, waddling to the door and fumbling with the door handle before giving a feverish little sigh and exiting out into the hallway. Toad is gone for a rather long time, unsuccessfully catching a snack and instead curling up to sleep in a patch of shade behind one of the bulky vent tops.
There is no search party sent up to find him. Instead, Sarah stays in her bedroom brooding over some guitar piece she is working on putting together for the rest of the afternoon.
Bonding time!