Flu Event: In Sickness and In Health II (Sean)

While it wasn’t uncommon for Sean to take his lunches at Hammel, recently he’d needed time away, even if it was only for an hour and a few blocks away. That need combined with his ever-present desire to spend time with his best friend caused him to plan his entire day’s schedule to sync with the other man’s more traditional lunch hour. His morning had consisted of three appointments and a meeting, which made it busier than usual, but it was worthwhile, given that the minute his watch struck the hour, he was out in the parking lot, getting ready to leave.

The drive to the sandwich place was completely uneventful – truly Pilot Ridge had once again resumed its completely peaceful, small town atmosphere – and soon enough he had arrived. The place was cozy, relatively isolated, and he’d eaten there so many times over the years that they recognized him from the top of his head. He smiled when he entered and then gestured vaguely at the tables, to show that he was expected.

He found the other man easily enough, but he frowned upon finding that his head was resting on his arms atop the table. Upon closer examination, his friend was paler than usual, and the telepath frowned slightly. He reached out to lightly touch the other man’s back, trying to gauge his temperature as well as alert his presence. “You need a new mattress if the table is helping you sleep.”

The telepath hadn’t intended to surprise the other man so physically, and he withdrew his hand with an apologetic expression. However, he’d been able to gauge the other man’s temperature, and he was warmer than usual, which didn’t bode well. “How long have you had it?”

He then gave an exaggerated sigh at the question of his week. It was fair territory, of course, and he didn’t resent the other man for asking. However, it wouldn’t earn a wholly enthusiastic response. “It’s shaping up to be one of those weeks where everyone and their parents need to see me in person or speak to me on the phone about policy, treatment, or underlying issues.” Considering the appointments yesterday and this morning, and the ever-depleting available timeslots on his calendar, he knew that it would be one of those weeks.

“I don’t get sick, remember?” Sean reminded his friend, gently, before he took the seat across from him. That was a half-truth, since he was certainly capable of getting sick; he had not healing capabilities. However, he’d been fortunate in that he had a strong immune system. Considering the migraines, the insomnia, and the pain in his knees, the universe owed him that much. More seriously, he added, “I’m sure you won’t get me sick, so don’t worry about it.”

The telepath’s frown deepened upon hearing that Josh had been this ill since this morning and that he’d still decided to go out. Additionally that the illness was affecting him this quickly. The other man needed to be in bed, but the telepath knew the folly in saying that outright. Instead he’d have to work on him subtly for a bit first.

Sean glanced down at the list of available sandwiches, contemplating what he might have. Perhaps if he ordered soup, Josh would be inclined to do so as well; the hot liquid would be good for him. At the question, he spread his hands. “This week is more hectic than usual. It’ll all balance out next week or the week after.” Everything always balanced out in that way, since everyone needn’t speak with him all of the time. Older issues would be addressed; newer issues would arise. Such was his job. “It isn’t as bad as I make it sound. Otherwise I would have packed it in a long time ago.” Truly, he liked his job; he liked helping other people solve their problems, he enjoyed working directly with other people, and he was good at it.

The telepath was aware of that, of course, but he’d only made his initial comment to keep Josh from worrying about passing the illness on. “Fresh air is good for you. You just need to get used to it; I’m sure your lungs are filled with exhaust, and clean living is a shock to your system.” Sean decided that he needed a cup of tea; actually, both of them needed a cup of tea. “Do you have court this afternoon?”

Due to familiarity with Josh’s habits and affection for his closest friend, the telepath didn’t argue with him about smoking. Reaching a tobacco and nicotine induced early grave was within his rights as a competent adult. Josh was courteous in that he didn’t smoke around the telepath, and that worked for them. At the same time, Sean didn’t want to recommend that the other man should smoke more. “I suppose that’s one solution, although personally I think you should give the purge a chance. Just think of the strapping, middle-aged lumberjack you might become.”

After a last perusal of the menu, the telepath made his selection for both sandwich and soup. He then watched as Josh read the menu, waiting to see if he made a selection at all and hoped that whatever the other man ordered would stay down.

Despite the fact that Sean had heard stories from his friend for decades about the goings on of the court system, he continued to be astounded by the arrogance of the judiciary when it came to their calendars and the treatment of the lawyers, clients, and defendants who appeared in front of them. The very notion of being an hour late to a scheduled appointment was foreign; he detested being five minutes late, let alone a dozen times that, resulting in the matter being kicked over to another day at great time expense to those involved. “I suppose that gives you another day to get everything in order at least.” There was a pause before he asked, “Is he openly schtupping his stenographer or is that a vibe you get?” It wasn’t Sean’s business, but he liked to judge appointed and elected positions by their hypocrisy on “family values” issues.

The ever important question of Cinco de Mayo plans. Sean didn’t go all out for that holiday the way he did for Saint Patrick’s Day, primarily because the latter was an important holiday from his childhood and a chance to exploit his heritage, while the former was a chance to exploit someone else’s heritage, and there was a thin line between festive and patronizing. But he enjoyed marking the occasion. “Right now, my plan is to do tequila shots in my den.” Perhaps those were not the most elegant of plans, but they were all he could accommodate, particularly given that both the holiday and the day after were school days. “If you’re feeling better by then, you’re more than welcome to join me.”

“Theoretically yes.” The telepath couldn’t deny that the most common image associated with lumberjacks – and the work inherent in the name –involved cutting down trees. However, there was also a masculine stereotype associated with lumberjacks: rugged, strong, muscle-bound, extremely healthy. “However, I’m sure you could be allowed as a junior member without having to actually cut down trees. And perhaps Canada has an introductory program: lumberjacking 101 for all immigrants. You wouldn’t need to take a qualifying exam, I assume.” Sean did not envy the law is practice requirements; medicine was medicine was medicine in any nation that subscribed to even partial Western philosophies, and so he never had to worry, should he ever ex-pat.

The telepath acknowledged that with a nod. He was a monogamous person, but he didn’t begrudge those who weren’t as long as two criteria were met: all parties in the relationship were aware and consented to it, and there was no hypocrisy about “family values.” Sean was only somewhat familiar with Schwall, primarily through stories Josh had told him and whatever minor interaction with the legal system he’d had over the past two decades. He also understood what it was to be expected to follow in one’s father’s footsteps, although the solution wasn’t to do one’s job poorly as a result. “And where did you hear that rumor?” The gossip around courtrooms was always juicy.

Colds didn’t last that long, but the telepath had his doubts that this was a cold. Given the other man’s temperature, the exhaustion, and the nausea he had his suspicions that it was more serious. Influenza was a possibility, although this was out of the typical season. That made it less likely but not impossible. “We’ll see how you’re feeling. I’ll gladly accept chips and salsa if you’re up to it. But for the record, the only requisite for Cinco de Mayo is tequila. Everything else is icing.”

Sean then frowned at the other man’s declaration that he didn’t intend to eat at all. He wasn’t upset, of course, merely worried. “Do you want to go somewhere else? Or have some soup or tea at least?” Dehydration was a potential problem, and so it would be good for him to take in some liquids.

“I wouldn’t say that they ruin your credentials, no,” Sean remarked after a brief moment of faux-serious contemplation. “After all, you consider yourself a tree-hugger despite being in a profession that makes you waste paper constantly. We all need paper products until the digital revolution, and we’ll both be dead long before that.” As idealistic as Sean could be in some areas, he was fairly realistic when it came to the progress of technology and science. “So think of it as providing a necessary service.”

As Josh explained the origin of his information, Sean’s theory was confirmed; there truly was nothing quite like courthouse gossip. He also found parallels between the planning behind the judge’s back and what tended to occur in school and hospital settings, both of which he was familiar with. Although it could be borne from affection, it happened regardless. The telepath then shook his head, from a combination of amazement and disappointment. This was one of their elected officials, a man who had little to no interest in the job. “You should consider running for his job when it’s next up.” They’d had this conversation before; not about Schwall but in general, and while he understood and shared his friend’s opinions about the corrupting effect of politics...this was absurd. “You have more passion for the law in your pinkie than just about anyone else.”

The frown remained on Sean’s lips, although he wasn’t surprised. It was also consistent with symptoms of something other than a cold. “Let me drive you back to the office, or home, if you’re tired. There’s no sense in biking; we can stash it in my trunk.”

The telepath also had his fears about nuclear war, since he’d lived through duck and cover drills, and he knew that a large portion of the nation lacked the requisite understanding of what a nuclear-drenched landscape meant. He also knew that few in the energy department listened to the environmental lobby, because they were too busy subsidizing oil ventures. That was another matter entirely, and thus he focused on his friend’s question. “The dryads would have to get in line with the other religious and mythological figures who want to lecture me. The Vatican’s version of Baby Jesus has some strong remarks about my stance on birth control first.”

Sean was in no position, and had no desire to, force his friend to run for a position in the judiciary, even if he had confidence that his friend would excel at the position. All he could do was float the idea and let Josh decide; the other man was making his opinion quite clear. When his friend narrowed his eyes, the telepath mimicked the expression and asked, “Do you think teachers are incapable in their chosen fields?” They all knew that adage. After a beat passed, he resumed his usual easygoing expression and continued, “At the end of the day, it’s your life. I’m just on the sidelines.” He also wasn’t involved with the legal system beyond anecdote; he preferred it that way.

The telepath thought that the other man would regret going back to the office this afternoon, considering that he’d tried to use a fork and a tea saucer as a pillow. However, he wouldn’t argue with Josh about that because it would accomplish nothing. In fact, knowing Josh, it would make him all the more adamant about going to work despite his health. “If you call me after work, I can drive you home too,” Sean offered, because that was a compromise; it would prevent Josh from biking home which would conserve his energy. “And I’m sure you keep me around because you assumed I was paying for lunch,” he remarked with a smile. On that topic... “If you don’t want to eat anything, I can get my sandwich to go. There’s no sense in making you sit through that.”