(Untitled)

[allbetested]

He had been looking over his notes from the tryouts, names and basic abilities and ideas he'd had, and trying to figure out what the hell his next move should be. He had been doing that, much earlier. Now he's starting to feel achy and faintly nauseated, and the tiniest shivers of something that might very well be a fever are making themselves felt

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[hauntedbyelvis]

Cooking with my arm in a cast and sling is difficult. So difficult, in fact, that I've handed over my Friday kitchen duties to Tim Riggins, albeit a bit reluctantly, but that doesn't mean that I don't need to eat. Heading into the kitchen, the very first thing I see is Tim's Coach leaning over the table and I have to say, he looks a little worse for wear.

"Sir?" I ask carefully. He reminds me of Chief Wyatt Porter, though I haven't said as much to anyone. For the most part, I try not to think about Chief Porter. "Sir, are you okay?"

[allbetested]

"Odd, hey," he says, raising his head and rubbing his fingertips against his eyes. Headache, now, too. Wonderful. "I'm alright. Think I just picked up a bug or somethin'." His hands fall away from his eyes and he opens them, focusing on the cast on Odd's arm. Suddenly his own aches and pains feel a lot less significant.

"Jeez, son, what happened to you?"

[hauntedbyelvis]

"Oh," I say, looking down at my cast as if I've forgotten it's there. I haven't, of course, as it's rather cumbersome and generally impossible to forget about. "I fell down a cliff." I don't mention that I accidentally brought my wife with me. I feel terrible enough about that part of the accident as it is.

"Would you like something to drink?" I ask. "You don't look well."

[allbetested]

"A cliff?" His eyes widen and he shakes his head, pulling out the chair beside him. "If I want somethin' I can get it myself, son. At least I got two good arms." He nods to the chair. "Have a seat."

[texas_forever]

Pouring himself a glass of juice in the biggest possible glass Tim had been able to find -- which, admittedly, isn't very big at all, at least not by Texas standards -- he glances up briefly when he hears Coach groan.

"You alrigh', Coach?" he asks as he finishes pouring and wanders over to the fridge to put the container away, wiping some stray drops of juice off on his jeans.

[allbetested]

"I dunno," he says, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. They feel slightly too big for his sockets. "I was okay, then a few hours ago I started feelin'... bad. I dunno what it is." He looks up, and the light is just a little too bright for comfort.

"Probably just a bug."

[texas_forever]

"Mmm," Tim replies, shrugging it off easily enough as he lifts the glass to his lips and takes a slow drink. He's spent most of the day out wandering and plans on spending the rest annoying the shit out of Street or helping out Coach with the football roster.

It's starting to look like Tim's gonna have to play iron man for the team and, while he hasn't spent much time on defense since junior high, he's strangely looking forward to it.

"There's a lotta people gettin' sick, seems like," he says, relaxing back against the counter. "Kinda weird."

[allbetested]

"Yeah, I guess I been noticing that," he says, taking a swallow of coffee and making a face when he realizes that it's gone barely lukewarm. He must have been sitting here longer than he thought.

"Timing could be better. Not that there's a great time for it."

[just_wontsettle]

Every single day the Compound seems just a little smaller. There's only so much to be done stuck on one floor of a concrete block and the flat area just outside. He'd go sit just on the edge of the jungle and pitch rocks down the path but he's not quite ready to be that big of a child just yet.

Good thing about it though is just about everybody has to come inside sooner or later, food or showers or whatever else, so he gets to see 'em all pretty regularly.

He's smiling when he turns the corner and sees the coach sitting there, but it doesn't last all that long. "You okay, Coach?"

[allbetested]

He looks up at the familiar voice and forces a smile. "Ah, I just got a headache. Only not just in the head." He shrugs. "Probably just one of those twenty-four hour things. It'll be fine. How're you doin', son?"

[just_wontsettle]

"Doin' good. Maybe a little stir-crazy, but good," he admitted, no reason not to be honest about it. Folding his arms across the edge of the table, he looked the man over, and he hadn't seen Eric Taylor look so run down since all hell'd broken loose last season. "I don't know, Coach, you don't look half as sure about that as you sound." Didn't sound all that sure either.

[allbetested]

"Maybe when things get back to normal we can figure somethin' else out for you," he says. That's assuming that things actually will get back to normal, but it feels like a safe enough assumption.

And thinking about that is better than thinking about how he feels.

He shakes his head. "I'm okay, really. Long day, and I'm not used to gettin' sick. Can't remember the last time it happened, tell you the truth."