awash inbox

[parodeity]

DAVE STRIDER | RED | #E00707
TEXT | ACTION

Comments

[parodeity]

I did eat. [ he had a few bites that...counts ] And they might get infected?

[windeity]

Can you prove it? [Hard to say if he means the food or the wounds, but alas.]

[parodeity]

John, come on. Please? Let me check. [ the rest genuinely doesn't matter. he'll do whatever john wants later. ]

[windeity]

[He's still reluctant, giving Dave an unsure look even as he approaches closer in spite of being stubborn still.] You can check if we have a deal, Dave. Okay?

[parodeity]

I'm obviously gonna do whatever the fuck you want, just sit down and let me check you out, okay?? [ was it obvious... ]

[windeity]

[It wasn't obvious...but he does sit down in a nearby chair and holds out his arms underside up so Dave can examine the marks.]

Fine, whatever.

[parodeity]

[ dave drags another chair over and takes one of john's arms without hesitation for once. while he's been weird about initiating physical contact with like...everyone ever, for a long ass time consisting of most of his life, there's no pause right now and dave's grip is casually firm and confident for once. he's still careful to avoid hurting john at all but he's methodically apparently going to check over every square inch of the scratches and scrapes, reassuring himself john isn't about to die or something. ]

[windeity]

[He sits still for the time being so Dave can examine his arms without fuss. It doesn't hurt exactly but it sure does appear like John ran straight into a thorn bush and didn't bother doing anything to fix that. Nothing life-threatening at least but there is that.]

[parodeity]

[ yeah, well. he's shoving john's sleeves up a little so he can see exactly how far this goes, don't mind him. it'd be nice if he had an actual first aid kit, even if none of this looks like it'll get infected, at least. ] Why are you so dumb.

[ it's less exasperated and more despairing. what the shit do you do when people aren't around to babysit, egbert. ]

[windeity]

[Just. A plaintive little shrug but no verbal answer. There wasn't a lot of planning in this and he just kind of eyes his own arms before he shrugs again.]

I did not expect a maze full of thorns and brambles.

[parodeity]

[ there's not really a lot he can do with what he has, for this. john just took a bath, the scrapes are as clean as they'll get, and dave rubs his thumb gently over one before sighing and releasing john's arm. ] Anything else?

[windeity]

[He has enough sense to look a little ashamed, following the movement of Dave's thumb with his eyes. He's aware there are some bruises probably developing from wrestling with a minotaur and crashing into stuff, but those don't seem that important.]

Nothing's broken or anything.

[parodeity]

That's a really specific non-answer. [ he's like a master of those he recognizes them ]

[windeity]

Let me rephrase that to "there's nothing broken or anything that you need to fix medically." Bruises and scrapes are pretty normal, I think.

[parodeity]

Yeah. [ yeah, maybe. dave runs a hand through his hair, then abruptly stands to go and sort out a bowl of soup which is...warm if mediocre. he'll shove that at john with a spoon before locating a chipped mug into which goes water. that gets handed over, too. ]

[windeity]

[He takes both of them, smiling a little to get Dave to lighten up a little.] Thanks. [But there's a pointed look as well. He was serious about Dave eating with him, too.]

[parodeity]

[ he'll grab his own bowl with. somewhat a lot less but whatever, and swallows the words you'll be so annoyed with me because there's no sense borrowing trouble. ]

Sorry it ain't gourmet.

[windeity]

Dude, Nannasprite made way too much cake on the ship. I do not mind non-gourmet as long as it's actually food. [There's a bright grin even so. It's...progress, and he's trying not to rock the boat and upset Dave by pressing. This is a good compromise for now.] I appreciate it a lot.

[parodeity]

[ oh right, john's cake overexposure... ]

Yeah, well. If you want a really good meal, hit up Tel. He actually is apparently some kinda chef?

[windeity]

Sure. But who's Tel? [At least he's focused on starting to eat his soup.]

[parodeity]

Tellus Argentum. Dude I'm doin' the garden with. Pretty sure that ain't his actual name, since his buddy fucked up and called him somethin' else before figuring out the party line, but hey.

[ dave stirs his soup, shrugging. ]

[windeity]

But we're going with the fake name anyway. Okay. What's his hex code? [Why is John asking, we just don't know. He's watching Dave out of the corner of his eye but he's also eating his soup. Apparently he was hungrier than he was willing to let on.

Still hasn't flipped his glasses back on though. Steam from soup is also not helpful for glass eyeware.]

[parodeity]

I like him. [ as an explanation for why he's not fucking bothering to get the real name. ] #2471A3.

[ he rattles off the hex code without needing to think about it.

unlike john he's not bothering with corner of his eye bullshit at the moment and is just openly staring at john, monitoring his soup intake and also just kind of still weirded out by john sans glasses. ]

[windeity]

[There's a slightly unreadable look which is probably John memorizing the code. He can probably remember that. Still, he doesn't think much of Dave staring at him or that he probably looks different but he's pushing vegetables around in a bowl and thinking of what to say.]

Seems reasonable if he is helping with the garden and stuff.

[parodeity]

That's not why. [ though he hasn't...really...thought through why? beyond "sometimes he reminds me so much of rose i can read shit he types in her voice. ]

Eat your vegetables, dude.