[text] @doctorsin [open]

[sulfa]

This is Wade. Doc Hicks and I wanted to put the word out that anyone who needs medical attention now or in the future can find one of us - I'm in Room 310 and Gene's camped out by the bonfire. We're in the process of establishing a clinic in the chapel vestry for the sick and injured. If you have any information on new medical developments from your time or have any medications from the future, please share them.

And lastly: if you go out into the woods, bring one of us along. That's what we're here for.

Comments

[preseance]

( alexios is a Lot but gene's got a soft spot for that sorta fellow. not enough to do anythin' untoward with him, but enough that he hasn't quite told him off for it yet. he simply shrugs. )

Guess we can always make another PSA. If I never treat another case of the clap in my life it'll still be too damn soon.

[sulfa]

[ that actually gets a chuckle out of him, albeit one borne of shared suffering. ] I'll second that. Don't know if there's VD in the afterlife, but if there is I think we'll probably be the second and third people to know about it. Should probably give them a few minutes to regroup first, though.

[ and, for a moment, he feels a sense of relief - gene seemed to have shrugged the topic off without much issue, which he'd more-or-less expected, given that the conversation probably would have gone about the same if they were both alive and in a combat zone. no need to make a big deal of it when you might not even live to see the next morning, and now that they're dead, it still doesn't feel like something that's really critical to discuss. the thought chews at the edge of his mind, though - gene could definitely do better than someone as unnerving as the spartan he'd just spoken to.

wade reaches out in a silent request for their communal cigarette--and, just as he does, two people begin to make their joint presence in the sacristy decidedly known, as well as what they're doing there. topical. ] Well. Seems like we may find out sooner rather than later.

[ it makes sense that people would still be having sex in the afterlife, and wade's hardly faint-of-heart where conversation about these things is concerned - but it's jarring to encounter it in a church immediately after skirting around the topic of another man propositioning one's colleague. ]

[preseance]

( the sound's hard to place at first, but the conclusion hits he an' wade about the same time. gene is very, very quiet for a moment, an' then he's shakin' his head. givin' that cigarette on over. then he just leans back in his chair, runs a hand through his hair an' sighs. )

Christ o'Lordy. Reckon we oughta knock an' ask 'em if they need a rubber?

cw: non-graphic sex mentions

[sulfa]

[ wade takes a small breath of smoke and sighs it out in a reflection of gene's own expression of similar weariness before speaking. ] I think it might be too late by this point. [ and, as if on cue, something between a gasp and a moan from the sacristy. ] Sounds like it at least.

[ at least they're both medical professionals. ] Might want to take that text to speech app elsewhere or type instead.

[preseance]

( he packs up his tablet dutifully. )

Think we should give 'em some privacy if it's all the same to you. I wanted to go take a look around the Church anyhow, see if there's an outside access to the cellar we missed.

[sulfa]

[ privacy doesn't seem to be #1 on their list of concerns, but wade would certainly rather continue this conversation elsewhere, so he gets up, too. ] Might be. I heard some of the others trying to get through. Might also be an entrance further back from the main body of the building, if catacombs are what's down there. [ spoken as if irwin wade, san diego, california, 28, has ever been in catacombs or anywhere near them.

[ he does his best to remain unflinching in the face of another decidedly unsubtle moan-slash-yell from the sacristy as he starts for the door. ]

[preseance]

( gene, at least, maintains a very professional straight face as he heads on outta the church. once he tugs the door closed behind 'em both he sort of. coughs a bit. )

You suppose we should leave a sock on the door?

( he's got a spare pair tied in a loop around his neck, which he pulls out from under that bulky sweater in demonstration. )

[sulfa]

[ wade would laugh if it weren't so understandable. he didn't live long enough to feel the bite of europe's brutal winters, but he'd heard stories from men who had when they crossed paths with him during his time alive, and it's easy enough to imagine. ]

Can't hurt. How long you been carrying those around, Doc?

[ and good god, he can still sort of hear them, albeit with a little bit of effort now. at least they seem to be enjoying themselves in the afterlife. the notion that this is what alexios of sparta was trying to do with the man who is currently fumbling with the socks around his neck sits less well with wade in the present moment than it did prior to this topical display of similar passion on behalf of their resident priestess and... somebody, but he does his best to shake the thought. and the memory of what their only clergy member sounds like in bed. ]