Pirate Room Party

[draughtsman]

Who: Lucius Spriggs, Edward "Blackbeard" Teach, and Stede Bonnet, and also you? Probably you.
When: Mid-way and through the end of the Battle Royale. Following this thread.
Where: Cabin 117.
What: Stede had a freak out and collapsed. He's not dead but out cold and accepting visitors (mostly).
Warnings: General Pirate Behavior, potential descriptions of glass related injury.



Getting Stede Bonnet to a safe location is a complicated affair for two reasons.

Reason the first: Lucius has very little upper body strength and so is relegated to carrying Blackbeard's big fuckoff knife and occasionally helping with Stede's feet.

Reason the second: they are currently on a barge of the damned and safe is an extremely relative term.

Eventually, they decide (or rather Lucius comes to the conclusion and offers) that keeping Stede in a location with a spare bed and access to assistance is best until he is up and about. For several reasons, this ends up meaning that the Captain will be stashed in Lucius's bed in his and Skulduggery's cabin. On the plus side, this means that there is a spare bed for use, on the negative, it means that the cabin will invariably be painfully cramped.


Starter for Blackbeard, Skulduggery, and eventually Watson:

Once they (Blackbeard) haul(s) Stede to the room and deposit(s) him on the bed, Lucius gives the Captain a sad, slightly pained look. He's been wearing that outfit for days. It looks awful, disheveled, and now it's got blood and glass holes, and both of those problems fall under Lucius's job description.

He sighs and starts to strip the Captain with the general dispassion usually relegated to those in the medical profession. They have two of those complimentary terry cloth robes and, in lieu of a dressing gown, it'll do. Besides, they need to see about the cuts and check for glass in his back--right?

Maybe Clarke was right, you know, after the bashing his chest bit. They ought to call a doctor.

"I don't suppose you know any doctors?" Lucius asks and casts a tentative look at Blackbeard as he strips off Stede's vest. "Er--Sir."

Ah yes, nailed the title.

Very professional.


General starter for reference:

Cabin 117 is absolutely, entirely overcrowded.

It feels like they're back on Revenge at least, insofar as Lucius is concerned.

Stede Bonnet has the whole of one of the beds. He's looking a bit grim and grey, and has on a chintzy Hawaiian shirt and a bathrobe on despite being tucked snugly beneath the covers. The rest of the room is varying levels of disheveled, both from the over-occupancy and the fact that the island horrors continued for a day after they arrived. Lucius has been sleeping on the couch and has surrendered the bed that technically belongs to his roommate to Blackbeard. It's been better than a day and Stede is still out, but he's not dead yet and the horrible music and sound effects have stopped, so there's some peace to be had.


[OOC: Please feel free to just barge in, or visit, or ding dong ditch. Whichever. If you're one who signed up to be on the crew, feel free to assume Lucius tracked you down to inform you.]

Comments

[lightconductor]

Watson looks rough, when he answers the door. Tired, haggard. Dying will do that to a man. But he raises an eyebrow at Ed, and straightens with an effort to look... well, professional, put-together, something along those lines.

"Yes? What is it that I can do for you, sir?"

He hasn't any notion how he's supposed to politely address Blackbeard, of all people.

[saltandpepperbeard]

Not sir, but that’s for another time. The normally attractively-styled Watson looks like death warmed over, which may well be not far from the truth, so Ed keeps it brief.

“Stede needs a doctor: he passed out onto some broken glass and he’s still out.” And since the good doctor looks like he could probably pull a Stede and pass out himself, Ed adds, “You don’t have to tend to him, just look him over, tell us what to do.” Reassure us he isn’t dying. “The boy and I can do the rest.”

It’s telling, perhaps even to the ever astute Watson, that Ed doesn’t resort to a threat to speed things along. It’s almost a please.

[lightconductor]

Watson stares for a moment, trying to judge if he's in any state for even that much, but he rubs a hand over his face in an attempt to wake himself up, and takes a breath. "Yes," he says. "Yes, of course. One moment."

He disappears into the room, and emerges with his bag and walking stick, and a jacket hurriedly thrown on in some halfhearted attempt at being respectable. He'd had every intention of not emerging at all, but duty calls. He knows there aren't a lot of other people who can do this. "Lead the way, then," he says. "Anything you can tell me? Was he drinking? Did he hit his head?"

[saltandpepperbeard]

Ed almost says thank you. He appreciates this, more than he can say. Even if Stede ends up needing minimal medical care, the peace of mind is everything. He will owe Watson.

He talks as they walk, Ed careful to not stray too far ahead or rush the doctor, even if that’s what he’d like to do.

“He was drunk, watching the—” What were they going to call what happened? Murder games? “Deaths. Don’t think he hit his head; caught him before that, but we couldn’t keep him upright and out of the glass on the floor. He was hysterical and out of it when we arrived. Doubt he moved much or ate much all week. Then he passed out and a girl tried beating on his chest.” Ed tries to recall if there is anything else medically important that happened. “She said something about a heart attack.”

A pause.

“What’s a heart attack?” Stede was breathing and his heart was beating when Ed left him.

[lightconductor]

"A failure of the heart to beat," Watson says, grimly. "Usually caused by a blockage of some sort that prevents the flow of blood, chronically poor health, some sudden emotional stress. It is sometimes possible to restart the heart through that sort of chest massage."

Here's hoping that was an entirely unnecessary treatment.

"If that was the trouble, a week of too much drink and not enough food or sleep would hardly help. Certainly our recent... entertainment," and he momentarily squeezes his eyes shut, "wouldn't have helped either, if his heart was already under strain. It may just as easily be simple exhaustion, though. I hate to make conclusions before I've seen him."

Fortunately, the cabins are all fairly close together, and it's only a short walk.

[draughtsman]

Lucius has just done getting Stede out of his ruined clothes and into something that passes for bedclothes if you squint hard enough and have no color vision. He's left the shirt off, for obvious, tiny annoying cuts reasons, but feels rather proud of the awful--trunks, they were called, but he has no idea why--he found in a drawer. Lucius currently has him in bed atop some towels (to spare the linens) with a terrycloth robe draped on him like a throw blanket.

It's a good job that Lucius is efficient when he aims to be, because the door to his cabin is open the very moment he finishes and in strides Blackbeard and, at his heels, a very bedraggled looking John Watson. He's not sure who he was expecting to see but Lucius is a bit perplexed to see Watson again and in his rooms no less. His adrenaline must be wearing off because he can't really think and just stares dumbly for a beat.

"Uh, welcome back, and welcome...back--that was quick--" he says and tries to snap himself out of it. "He uh, hasn't woken up but I think I got most of the little bits of bottle off? He's already got a red spot where that girl was pounding on him."

I don't know what order we're doing so I guess I'm just gonna jump in here??

[lightconductor]

"Mr. Spriggs," Watson greets. "I hope your hand is doing well. We possibly ought to see about having those sutures out."

As tired as he is, he slips into professional patter automatically, the sort of thing that's just second nature to him. Confident, capable, calming. Even if there's nothing else he can do (and in his line of work, sometimes there really isn't anything to do) he can be a reassuring presence.

Watson sits on the edge of the bed, his bag beside him. He checks Stede for signs of a fever first, using the back of his hand, then draws his stethoscope out of his bag and sets to listening to his heart and lungs, his expression serious.

[saltandpepperbeard]

[Works for me. I fell asleep before I could tag so I'll go next after work in like 7 hrs or you guys can keep tagging and kind of assume Ed hovers around and watches]

[draughtsman]

Lucius is actually pretty calmed by the professional prattle--how bad can it be if Watson is here talking about his hand, yea? He watches the doctor move up and start examining. He's having at it and, as theres precious little Lucius can do from here, he instead gathers up Stede's cast off clothing and starts folding it into a sad little stack. It'll have to be laundered and repaired and it will take him a while because he isn't Big Wee John or Roach or Frenchie and--

"He uh...isn't dying right?" Lucius asks, interrupting his own task. He didn't think fainting ought to lead to death, but that had been suggesred during that tizzy of a fight. Its gnawed at him despite how silly it sounded. None of the little glass wounds on his back were particularly nasty, even if they were numerous, and the bashing his chest wasn't deadly, but still. It is a question worth asking, even if his attempt at a casual tone is a bit faint.

[lightconductor]

Watson listens for a moment, to the beat of Stede's heart and the steady inhalations of someone unconscious. He shakes his head, more dismissive of the concern than any sort of dire diagnosis. "His heart is strong, and his breathing is regular. It's exhaustion, more than anything. I believe he'll be just fine, after some rest."

This all reminds him rather too much of a hotel in Lyons, years ago. This room is a little more crowded, though.

Leaving the stethoscope dangling around his neck, he starts fishing around in his bag again. "Water, when he wakes. Simple foods when he has an appetite. Clear broth, porridge, things that will be easy on the stomach and help him build his strength. Nothing I haven't seen before. Does he make a habit of this?"

[saltandpepperbeard]

The question of the hour He uh...isn't dying right? earns Lucius a glare from Ed because really, mate, why'd you have to go and put that out in the universe. Can we just not think about Stede dying right now--not that sticking their heads in the sand will prevent that outcome but... Look, he just doesn't want to discuss it.

So it's with great relief that Watson says Stede will be fine. Ed lets out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding, then plays it off with a gruff, "Yeah, that's good," and crosses his arms over his chest as he looks away. No one look at him, ok.

He's mentally taking notes on things they'll need, sure he's seen a soup or porridge around at the restaurants. At the question, Ed looks to Lucius to confirm, because Lucius has been with Stede longer and there are some things he is undoubtedly privy to that Stede wouldn't share with someone like Blackbeard--in the same way Izzy is privy to things the rest of the crew doesn't get to know. "Uh, don't think so...? Is this going to become a thing?"