(Untitled)

[thegoodeson]

This time, rather than hang around near the door in typical newbie fashion, Sam Goode takes about a second to process that he is no longer at school before faceplanting directly into the nearest couch. After a moment, his hand sneaks in-between his face and the pillow and removes his glasses for safekeeping

Comments

[not_his_pa]

William's on a nearby couch and looks over his book, "Someone hit you?"

[thegoodeson]

After a moment, he removes his face from the squished-into-pillow position into a new one slightly more conducive to seeing who he's talking to. "Just a headache."

[not_his_pa]

"Damn, you want some medicine or somethin'?"

[thegoodeson]

"Tylenol would be good."

Just, you know. Saying.

[guppy_sandhu]

"Careful." Guppy comments. "Did you break them?"

[thegoodeson]

"Break what?" comes the muffled voice.

[guppy_sandhu]

"Your glasses? Or your nose, I suppose."

[thegoodeson]

"They're okay."

Their owner, on the other hand...

[notabricklayer]

There's a snort from the armchair. McCoy does not ask why the boy just did something that ridiculous. It's a teenager. Ridiculous is a chronic condition inherent to the age, with no cure other than hoping they grow out of it.

The doctor, of course, is reading up on avian physiology and pharmokinetics, so he's clearly being entirely reasonable. Yup.

[thegoodeson]

Sam peers out from his pillowy grave to see who snorted at him.

Then, upon finding the culprit, he goes back to wallowing in his own ridiculous teenager-y pain. Like a teenager. In pain.

And ridiculous.

[notabricklayer]

Relative silence falls on this section of the bar, punctuated by the faint scribbling of him writing notes with PADD and stylus.

"Your treatment plan doesn't appear to be working." The doctor points out, off-handedly.

[thegoodeson]

Uh. Wait. Is that guy talking to him?

"What?" he says, muffled.