26th October, 9 am. Prison Cell

[therealpm]

*When Peter comes round, The Machine's display springs to life, helpfully informing him of the temperature, pressure, likelihood of rain (which Peter deems to be frankly ridiculous, under the circumstances) and phase of the moon.

It's nearly full.

By this time last month, Peter would be about to transform.  He reaches out to his wolf form, trying to draw up the now familiar claws.  Instead he gets... nothing.  Well, almost nothing.  His nails lengthen a little.

He frowns, curious and now somewhat more awake.  Something else doesn't seem quite right either.  After a brief investigation, it seems that he is not only on his side (a now unusual state of affairs), but he also lacks any sort of clothing.

Worrisome.*

Comments

9.30 am

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John had acquired patches rather than pills from DEFRA, should Peter be unable to take the tablets. He takes a box through to Peter's cell with him to check.*

*He sees that Peter is awake. A good start.*

Good morning, Peter.

Re: 9.30 am

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*He huffs an acknowledgement, but narrows his eyes. Now he's woken up fully, he can feel something attached to his shoulders and the base of his spine. Some sort of surgical operation would explain both what he presumes are dressings and his current nudity, but he doesn't remember any of it. He must have been knocked out. What the hell has John done? Are DEFRA that desperate for samples?*

My wrists ache, undo them.

Re: 9.30 am

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

You're with us again, I see. That's marvelous - fantastic progress, Peter.

*John undoes the straps after changing the IV and seeing to Peter's other medical needs.*

Would you like a drink?

Re: 9.30 am

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*He rubs some feeling back into his wrists before gently prodding the dressing at the base of his spine and flinching at the flare of pain.*

I would like some underwear.

*He sends John the frostiest glare it is possible for him to muster, given that the only thing currently protecting his dignity is a faded tartan blanket.*

And an explanation for the current lack thereof.

Re: 9.30 am

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John summons an extra set of clothes and hands them to Peter before turning to face the opposite wall.*

As the pain in your back and heels will likely inform you, due to the strength of the painkillers and the cure potion making its way through your system, you have been barely able to move for the past few days, resulting in bedsores. To stop them from progressing even further, I had to clean them and then dress the wounds. This was only possible if I could get to the sores, so your clothing had to be replaced by a strategic blanket.

I did consider trying to replace the clothes but since you could barely talk let alone move, you couldn't do it yourself and I assumed you wouldn't want me helping you into your underwear. The blanket was the easiest and most sensible solution.

Have you finished yet?

Re: 9.30 am

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter pinches the bridge of his nose, absorbing the new information and its implications. John's question startles him out of his musings.*

No.

*Peter's struggle to put on the boxers is complicated by the various pieces of tubing attached to his body. Eventually he manages, though his arms twitch and shake without his say-so and are far weaker than he would like. He looks at the t-shirt and sighs. It will presumably only need to be got rid of again when the dressings are to be changed. He draws the blanket up to his chest for warmth and a little privacy.*

When do the dressings need to be changed?

Re: 9.30 am

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John, back still turned to Peter, rocks on his heels as he replies.*

As soon as possible, really. The stuff is all here to go, so with your permission, I can clean them and change the dressing as soon as the painkiller kicks in.

Re: 9.30 am

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Fine.

Just... get on with it.

Re: 9.30 am

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*Assuming that's Peter's way of say he's changed, John fetches the things to see to Peter's wounds. He makes his way over to the bed and hands Peter a patch.*

Instead of the tablets. They're easier to administer and there's less possibility of you accidentally choking on a patch.

Re: 9.30 am

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter raises an eyebrow at the small square of plastic resting on his palm. The back of it has a thin film that needs to be peeled off before application. Normally, it would be a matter of a well placed fingernail. Now he'd probably just fumble and drop the thing. He stretches the hand with the patch out to John, concentrating on keeping the movement steady as possible.*

I presume you know how to apply it.

Re: 9.30 am

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John decides that now would not be a good time to ask Peter why he doesn't apply the thing himself, so instead John takes the patch and applies it to Peter's upper arm.*

*He then goes about inspecting, cleaning and redressing Peter's wounds. Only when it comes to doing the ones on the back of the other man's feet does he notice the way Peter has been sitting.*

Peter, you cannot have any pressure on your heels or the infection will worsen. Can you just- just rearrange yourself so that-

Perhaps on your side might be easier for this?

Re: 9.30 am

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*He sneers at John's nagging. The man has an entirely over-inflated sense of his own importance. When the man actually goes so far as to try to pick up Peter's feet and move them, he very determinedly shuffles his feet out of John's grip and sits loosely cross-legged in a way that will force John to have to walk around the bed to get to both heels.*

Re: 9.30 am

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Peter, what are yo-

...I see. Very well then.

*John sets to sorting the last of Peter's infected wounds. When he is done, he tidies the things away and takes the waste out of the cell. He returns a few moments later with newspapers.*

Can I get you a drink of some description?

Re: 9.30 am

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*The patch takes longer than the pill to take effect. Peter finds himself absent mindedly scratching at one arm again. He ponders what sort of drink would be plausible but also get John out of the way long enough for Peter to verify his version of events with The Machine.*

Hot water. With chopped lime in it.

Re: 9.30 am

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John heads off to fetch Peter his drink.*

Re: 9.30 am

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*The Machine confirms John's explanation and provides cringe-inducing footage to back it up. Peter sighs and looks away. He supposes that having such things done by John, who is unlikely to breathe a word of it, is slightly better than some faceless nurse who could gabble on in the staff canteen but it is cold comfort. Every time he sees John now, it will be accompanied by the memory of watching his wounds being tended whilst weak, comatose and naked on a hospital bed.*

Re: 9.30 am

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John returns with the drink Peter requested.*

Is there anything else I can get you? Have you got enough reading material for the day or do you intend to play Risk with The Machine again?

Re: 9.30 am

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter stares fixedly to one side, willing the embarrassed flush in his cheeks away.*

Thank you.

No.

*The comment about Risk stirs a small measure of indignation, but he answers with as much composure and dignity as he can manage.*

The Machine will provide me with news updates from the past 3 days.

Re: 9.30 am

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John may not be particularly good at reading people (for a politician) but even he can tell something's wrong with Peter. Judging from the way he's totally averting his eyes, John assumes he doesn't want to talk about it. Best to just leave him to it then.*

I should probably head back and do some work now - if you do think of anything else, don't hesitate to ask.

*John updates Peter's notes on the door and leaves the other man to his thoughts.*