(Untitled)

[misterparker]

[OOM: Parker does not have a good month. Unlike the mun, who did.]

Parker steps through and sits down, hard. He tries to keep breathing normally, but finds himself hyperventilating and his vision graying.

"Stop it, Parker." He does not find it weird that he's talking to himself.

[ooc: semi plot locked. Ping fryadvocate before tagging.]

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[almost_arabian]

Lawrence has been looking for Parker, although he's not made it obvious and it's rather hard to find him when you can't get to his world.

He could have asked Fiona for a trump, but.

He calmly asks bar for a medical kit and a bottle of water before walking over to Parker and resting a rather large hand on his shoulder.

"Parker." His voice is ... well, businesslike, because otherwise he might be upset. "You need to be cleaned up."

[almost_arabian]

"She did sound sorry." But he doesn't seem to think that's quite good enough, and it shows through in his voice rather plainly.

"Parker, at least sit on the bed." Because he looks ... tired.

[misterparker]

"Sorry," Parker says. "Right. Well, that's peachy-keen, now isn't it."

Tapping his fingers on the back of the chair, Parker says, "I'm going to stay up for about 24 hours, make sure I'm not concussed. How's Nick?"

[almost_arabian]

He flicks out a cigarette and places it against his lips, smoking it hastily.

"Fine." It's not clear whether he means that it's fine that Parker stays up, or that Nick's fine. Maybe it's both. He glances at Parker.

"Are you hurt anywhere other than your head, Parker?" He's being very ... serious.

[misterparker]

Parker smiles a little, "Got a nice set of bruises."

He usually does, but sometimes they're from activities more fun than this.

Holding his hand out for a cigarette, he says, "Why, Lawrence? You want to play doctor?"

[almost_arabian]

"I don't play doctor." He chides, walking over to the chair Parker is sitting in and sighing.

"Let me see."

[misterparker]

Snorting, "Really?" Softly, he says, "Doctah, Doctah, I got a fever." The words roll of his tongue, and he's amused..

With his tongue, he finds the small cut from where he bit down hard. Then, shrugging, he tries to take off his shirt, groans a little in pain.

[almost_arabian]

Lawrence furrows his brows and carefully stills Parker's arms.

"Do you like this shirt? Drink some more water." He pulls out the scissors from the little kit.

[misterparker]

"Not really," it's a blank white tee, something that Longbaugh shoved over his head so that he could take off the prison uniform.

[almost_arabian]

And thus the shirt is cut off quite efficiently.

It could have been kinky at some point, but he's focusing too hard. He runs callused fingers over Parker's bruises, testing for internal bleeding and broken ribs.

[misterparker]

Parker exhales sharply, reminds himself that he really doesn't feel anything and says, "I think that if there had been, she would have caught anything really wrong."

Inside. Physically, because mentally is always another matter.

[almost_arabian]

"Mm." He makes a non-committal noise and checks him over again - because he doesn't trust other people.

Then he pulls a balm from the bag and begins treating Parker patiently.

[misterparker]

Parker deals with that. Thinks about other things, until he can't stand it.

"So, talk about Nick," Parker says.

[almost_arabian]

This is confusing.

"Why?" He sets the balm away when he's done and glances to the bed.

"You should rest. Even if you think you have a concussion. For a small time."

[misterparker]

"Because I'm curious," Parker says. "We were friends, you know. And I realized that, yeah, what happened sucked. A lot."

There are levels of hell that Parker wouldn't have minded sending Lawrence to, once upon a time.

"But, you know, I'm getting over it."

He's not going to sleep.

[almost_arabian]

Lawrence sighs, picking up the cigarette he'd set down to tend to Parker and taking a slow, long drag.

"If you sleep." Then he might talk.