FLU EVENT: Free for all [OPEN]

[Walter Jenkins]

Walter had heard of the flu outbreak that was sweeping the campus. As the school nurse, this was sort of a Thing To Know as far as he was concerned. So, he had readied the infirmary by stocking up on stomach medicine and emptying out the truly alarming number of wastebins he had on hand in the event that students couldn't make it to the restroom to vomit. He had his blue cloth gloves in place and was ready to take on whatever the flu outbreak would throw at him

[ooc: any and all sick students and faculty are welcome to come in and out as much as they need. Let's get a free for all up in here!]

[Samuel Rixon]

Sam was going to die.

Seriously, this time. He was going to die.

He'd never felt this hot in his life. Considering the time of year, he was normally bundled in at least two layers, including a hoodie. But today? He was roaming the halls in shorts and a t-shirt, trying anything he could to cool himself down. Being warm was nice. Being hot was just...

He had to stop thinking then, and dash into the nearest bathroom (with his luck, it was the girl's bathroom - thankfully no one was in there) to revisit with breakfast. He'd woken up in the middle of the night hot and sweaty, and hadn't been able to go back to sleep, not even with the window open to cool down.

Now his stomach was trying to kill him, he was hot, and his head was pounding. Considering how much he hated the infirmary for any purposes beyond harassing its' staff members, it was a wonder he was on his way there now. Really, he was miserable, and he'd do anything to make it better.

Even take devil medicine.

In a very subdued manner, the pyro shuffled into the office and leaned heavily against Walter's desk. (Why was it always him? Unfair.) "'m sick this time," he muttered, his eyes half closed. "Really fuckin' sick."

[Iris Pittman]

All those movies she had watched where someone had gotten sick had always made the people who were sick out to be miserable. Runny noses, lots of tissue, laying on the couch and wishing to die so that they didn’t have to endure being sick any longer. Despite the fact that Iris had been sick herself before she could never really picture that feeling of dread until she actually was that sick, every time she did get sick it was like a whole new experience of despair. As she walked along the hallway of the offices she couldn’t help but feel that her legs were like jello, every time she tried to stand up straight she felt herself tip toward either wall to regain her balance. Every couple of feet there would be a thump as her body hit the wall followed by a slight dragging as she tried to continue toward the infirmary.

Iris wasn’t even sure it was worth getting to the infirmary, she would much rather be in her dorm room lying under her thick covers quietly dying. Some wild hair had gotten up her butt though and she had staggered all the way across campus attempting to get to the infirmary in the hopes that she could get someone to give her something for whatever she was suffering. A simple walk from one end of the school to the other had become a labyrinthine gauntlet testing every single fiber of her resolve. Every ragged breath seemed to blur her vision so she had to peer at every door she passed. What surprised her most was that she hadn’t passed anybody on the way to the infirmary, or if she had no one had bothered to help her.

“Oh Thor… Why must I suffer?” Iris coughed as she looked at another door trying to make out the text on it. “This is worse than The Room… This is worse than Uwe Boll’s whole career!”

Slamming up against another wall Iris supported herself at yet another door, the words were still blurry but it looked close enough that it might be the infirmary. Throwing the door open Iris stumbled into the room, she was so dizzy and wobbly that she didn’t bother looking for anybody but instead tried to find a chair that she could sit on. Near the door there was in fact the sweet salvation of a chair to sit in, Iris meandering over to it without any sort of coordination at all. She couldn’t even be bothered to sit in it properly, instead she found herself flopped over the seat of the chair face inches from the floor as she let out another hacking cough. That cough turned into a wheezing heave, cold sweat drenched on her face as she let loose the contents of her stomach, barely aware of what was happening besides being in agony.

“Ugh… Ham sandwiches…” Iris gagged a little, tears streaming down her face.

[Walter Jenkins]

Walter sighed and rushed a hand through his short brown hair as he gave Sam a stern look. “Mr. Rixon, I can guarantee you that I don’t have time for your shenanigans. I’m going to have to ask you to leave so we can make room for the other students who don’t think it’s funny to play sick all the time.” Harsh? Probably. But Walter had just seen a young girl stumble in a little after Rixon and flatten herself over a chair and vomit everywhere.

He wasn’t very phased by vomit—or a whole lot else for that matter—so he merely made a sympathetic face as he brushed past Rixon and took the girl gently by the arm, helping her straighten up to sit properly in the chair.

He patted her on the back briefly. “Ham sandwiches aren’t a good idea when you’re sick, no.” Walter reached in the drawer across the way and grabbed the thermometer, “Okay, I’m going to go ahead and take your temperature, open wide.” He placed the thermometer on her tongue.

“Mr. Rixon, you can go,” Walter turned and pointedly nodded at the door, “If you’re feeling unwell, drink a lot of water and take a nap.” He turned to his other patient and pulled out the thermometer and looked at the numbers, "You're running a bit of a high fever; are you still feeling nauseous?"

[ooc: sorry this is so late D:]

[Samuel Rixon]

What was this? He was legitimately, 100% DYING and Nurse Jenkins didn’t care? Wasn’t it his job to care?

Apparently not. Sam shot him a wounded look at the mention of ‘shenanigans.’ “But-” Nope, he wasn’t going to listen. “I ain’t playin’...” It was almost pitiful, his protest, and it was obviously falling on deaf ears. So this was what that whole Boy Who Cried Wolf story was really about. There really was a wolf now, and Walter wouldn’t believe him.

Let that be a lesson to him. Hopefully.

The pyro turned in surprise at the happy noises of upchucking, and almost felt the urge to do it himself. Squeezing his eyes shut, he turned back to the desk and clung to it like his life depended on it. Don’t think about puke, don’t think about puke...

It wasn’t working.

“Ngh,” he grunted at the instructions he was given by Walter. “Fiiiiiiine.” And with that he got off the desk and skirted around the vomit. “’f I die, ‘s your fuckin’ fault.” He couldn’t resist the little jab as he left the room to go sulk in his dorm. Maybe Levi or Evan would be a little more sympathetic.