[cream of the cop] Day Four

[ooeeooahah]

Friday MorningIlsa hasn't been feeling well. As if trying to kill the people here who mattered most to her wasn't enough, she has been drinking the milk. She wanted no more repeats of Tuesday

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[ooeeooahah]

This explains so much, but gives me more questions. [ Ilsa shakes her head, and goes to pick him up. She's able to get him at least as far as the couch downstairs, but this won't help if he nightmares himself awake. It's too likely the nightmares won't let him go when he wakes up if it was the milk that made him see her has his mother. ]

[ Normally, she wouldn't try this without permission, but she guesses Pyro has been awake for at least 48 hours, if not more. That, with whatever had been in the milk, had let Adrian show through the mask that Pyro wore every moment he was aware. She had the feeling that letting the mask shatter, without letting him decide to put it aside on his own, would cause more harm than he could handle. ]

[ First things first, she had to get him to sleep long enough for him to set his mind back in order. Then she could get a few things done to secure the house, hopefully before the kids woke up. Needing a framework for the magic, she begins to sing, softly. ]

Once there was a way to get back homeward

[hotfrombehind]

[It's already evening when he wakes up. He feels... He feels odd. Really odd. Like his head had been pushed through a river with changing currents and waters.

He sits up and finds himself in an unfamiliar room, and his instincts tell him to get out as soon as possible, but he can't. In any case, the room seems to shift every time he blinks, so he decides not to move.

He almost got caught, didn't he. Must have gone home and collapsed on the couch after running all night. But this isn't home-- it's not even the base. Wait, what base? Is he still in Ohio?]

Jesus fucking Christ almighty. [Pyro stands and takes a better look around him. No, he's in Mayfield, that stupid fucking quaint-ass town. Since he doesn't know what room this is and there are stairs leading up, he figures this is Ilsa's little lair. With only a bit of difficulty, he climbs the stairs

[ooeeooahah]

[ She had just come upstairs for a glass of tea, and was headed back down to her living room, when he called out. ]

Pyro? You all right, hon? Hungry?

[ He's also awake two hours earlier than she thought he would be, since she had hoped he could sleep to midnight. ]

[hotfrombehind]

Uh. Maybe. Probably. [His head is too confused to be sure, but eh, why not.]

If you're gonna offer to cook, I'm not gonna say no.

[ooeeooahah]

C'mon, I'll fix something, you feel like having breakfast or a meatloaf po-boy?

[ She sets the glass of tea at his place at the table and starts checking the fridge. ]

I've got the makings for stir-fry if you want that....

[hotfrombehind]

Uh. I don't really care, so whatever you want to make is fine.

[He moves to sit and cradles his head in his hands. How long was he out? Is he gonna go out again any time soon? Shit...]

[ooeeooahah]

[ Ilsa squelches her impulse to serve huevos motuleños, as unstable as he is now, going for a quick ham & cheddar omelet. It's quick enough she can get him fed before he flees again. Hopefully. ]

I'm sorry I was upstairs when you woke up, I was hoping you'd stay asleep for another couple of hours. It's almost ten, 2200 hours. From what I've been able to get from the phones today, the effects of the milk wear off at midnight.

[hotfrombehind]

That's good. Makes sense. [He squeezes his eyes shut.]

This is Mayfield, right? The place where everything looks the fucking same no matter where you run? Not the base, or Cleveland, or...

[ooeeooahah]

Mayfield. You have been asleep for about sixteen hours, after you drank the milk for us this morning.

[ Quickly plating the omelet as soon as it is done, hoping she can get him to eat at least half of it. ]

[hotfrombehind]

Oh. Jesus Christ.

[He can smell food move towards him, but when he lays eyes on it, it looks like a tentaspy spycrab mythical creature, the kind with spots and huge teeth.]

Uh. What is this?

[ooeeooahah]

This is a ham and cheddar omelet.

[ Totally serious, knowing what others have described to her while tripping out. ]

Is it visual hallucinations only or are there other senses affected now?

[hotfrombehind]

No, no, smells like food-- Wait a second-- [He shakes his head and blinks rapidly.]

It's just a yellow blob now, but I think I'll trust you here. [Pokes at it hesitantly before eating a piece of it. Good as always, but he eats at a good pace.]

[ooeeooahah]

You eat, I'll fill you in on what I found today.

[ She sits on the opposite side of the table to keep from patting him on the shoulder. ]

Seems you got one of the new formulas from the dairy. People tend to react to the hallucinogens in it in a couple of categories. Most of them boil down to traditional good trips or bad trips. [ She shrugs, and starts counting off the varieties of trips. ] Common themes are hallucinating you're back home, thinking that you're still here but your best beloveds have been dragged here, and then there's the popular synesthesia effects, like being able to see the colors of the music. Almost reminds me of the brown acid effect Dad described.

[ She's keeping an eye on his intake, filling in additional information as things go along. ]

I took you downstairs because it was the most defensible spot in the house. It seems there are still people who aren't drinking the milk, and going on murder sprees. [ She winces as that reminds her of what she did earlier in the week. ] I'm sorry about Tuesday, and I

[hotfrombehind]

[He manages to eat about half of it when something she says strikes a chord in him. He suddenly remembers what he said and did that morning. Grimacing, he puts down his fork and looks to the side.]

Y-Yeah, no, it's totally, totally fine. And, uh, yeah, thanks for that. I, uh, saw a few of my teammates and some of the REDs when I was out, yeah. I think my counterpart had a fight with our Spy, lucky bitch. Fucking stupid, all this shit over some milk.

[He pushes the food away.] Yeah, starting to look like the frog's head. I think Medic has one of them alive in his fridge, can't really remember exactly.

[ooeeooahah]

[ She takes the plate away, walking quickly to the sink. It's all she can do for him, at this point. ]

If you can stand staying here until midnight, I'd appreciate it. I... don't like the thought of you wandering out there without all your senses working. I'll go back downstairs, if that helps.

[hotfrombehind]

[He stares at her back for a while.] Yeah, alright. I can do that. It'd-- probably be best if you didn't stay near me. Think a lot has happened already, there's really no need to make that worse.

[He folds his arms on top of the table and buries his face in it. When he speaks, it's muffled.] Sorry about earlier, by the way. Fucking hysterical nonsense. Just like the Spies with octopus legs crawling all over the house.