For @interniist continued from here ( x ) | because Nic obviously is concerned.
Conrad had called in sick. Nic was at the end of her shift when news trickled down to her. Okay, so MAYBE she’d asked someone when she realized he hadn’t shown up for his shift. She could count on one hand the number of times he’d done that over the years; and it had only been when he’d incapacitated himself by ignoring the sick signs. There was very little time between Nic getting off for the day, changing, and her heading straight to the nearest pharmacy.
Arriving outside of Conrad’s place she eyed his door. Nic debated knocking instead of just using the spare key she still had. The possibility of him being passed out was high or of him ignoring the knock. Instead she raised the key in her hand and quickly unlocked the door. He’d get over it.
A voice called out as she entered and she rolled her eyes. Typical Conrad.
❝ What, so you could barricade the door? ❞
So not unconscious. Hopefully he’d gotten some sleep earlier. She took in his setup on the couch as she walked over to the table. His setup was not unlike what Nic tended to do when sick ( if she ever got this bad ) . A mini cocoon of blankets, daytime tv access for mindless/bored sick brain, Powerade for electrolytes and hydration and a roll of toilet paper that she guessed was his tissue solution.
Tossing her keys on the table she followed it by adding her plastic bag. ❝ You forget, Conrad, I’ve seen your medicine cabinet. ❞ She DEFINITELY needed to buy a majority of the items in her bag. He probably hadn’t replaced the now very out of date things she’d pointed out to him months ago. She pulled out a box of tissues ( with aloe ) . And his nose would not be thanking him later for the toilet roll.
Wordlessly she opened the new box and set it down on his coffee table along with a tiny container of vaseline should his nose have already started the chaffing process.
❝ Have you been taking your temperature? ❞
a part of him was inclined to STAND UP as soon as she enters. put on a show : i’m fine, nothing to worry about here. it’s his default ( and a bit of a security blanket, were he the type to admit to needing that sort of thing ). unfortunately, he can’t. at least not convincingly. his body aches when he so much as maneuvers to a more upright position.
even with their all their history, all the familiarity, he can’t stand how pathetic it makes him feel. how USELESS.
❝ i don’t forget . . . ❞ he just chooses to selectively ignore recollections whenever most CONVENIENT. he leans, digging the heels of his hands at tired eyes before scrubbing his fingers back through his hair. he knows it’s futile to attempt taming the chaos of tangled and twisted blond, but the effort itself provides some modicum of comfort. ❝ already know i have a fever . . . ❞ which is about as close to a ❛ no i haven’t bothered because the thermometer’s in the bathroom ❜ as wounded ego will permit.
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