2013.07.24 - Hospital Visits

The warm morning light streams through the room's window, highlighting the stark whiteness of the surrounding area. There are no other occupants in the room but one, for security reasons-- it wasn't a good idea to house metahuman patients who could be a threat to other patients by their mere existence. The person resting on the bed was the purple cat, though much of his fur wasn't actually visible due to the amount of bandages covering his body. The burns inflicted by Daybreak had been severe, and for a time it wasn't certain whether or not he would survive.

This is why it was, at least, somewhat good news when he regained consciousness. But by the third day of being immobile on the bed, he was starting to go stir crazy. The pain medications did a lot to ease the pain and dull some of his mind, but it was still going over the events of the concert. He didn't want the television on- goodness knows what, if anything, the media would say about him. Arkham's breakout had brought about accusations that he was in cahoots with the Joker. Granted, that had been a newspaper- the Bugle- but he distrusted all media equally. Patrick had left just a few minutes ago to retrieve something from their apartment, and so he was not there when Amanda came in.

Most people in the know actually do know the Bugle is full of hot air. It's J. Jonah Jameson's personal platform, from which he shouts all kinds of slanderous or nearly slanderous personal opinions and bigotted rants that aren't worth the paper they're printed on. That the Bugle has an Agenda is no surprise to anyone. That it's hostile to anything not Far-Right Conservative, for all that it's a tabloid rag, even less so. Toss a purple, homosexual man-cat at it in any way shape or form and it's inevitable that the poor kid would catch Jameson's ire.

But, staying away from media in general is a good idea. Amanda Sefton would never say otherwise. She does much the same, as much as she can. There's a reason she hasn't registered with the BSA.

Peeking her blonde head inside the door, however, she looks to see if the kid's awake. Seeing that he is, she raps lightly on the doorframe and lets herself in. "Hey, cat," she says with a gentle smile, moving toward the bed, now. "You in there, somewhere?"

Keith readjusts himself on the bed, though that's ineffective- so many bandages leave him with very little mobility. He does manage to turn his head her way, though.

"That is yet to be decided." His answer didn't have the same kind off cheerfulness that it usually has. Rather flat, in fact. "I take it you heard about the Anomaly Killer?" he asks. Well, at this point most people would have. But Amanda was a magic type, and he didn't know if she had a tower like Doctor Fate where she spent time meditating away from the real world or not.

Really, he knew very little about her, and mostly because he never asked unless someone felt compelled to share.

"... I would have called you earlier, but the stone was in my uniform, which was burnt to a cinder. I think the EMTs didn't keep it..."

She pulls up a chair and sets her runic satchel on her lap. "It took me a little to find out which hospital you were in, but this one seemed like the safest bet." People aren't always brought to the closest ER; they're brought to the least busy ER within reasonable distance. So, there actually was no guarantee he'd end up at Metropolis Gen.

"I brought you something, though," she says, rummaging around in her bag, now. She pulls out small, plain wooden box, sets it on the table beside him and opens it. Inside is a bed of straw and three clear vials filled with a pinky-purple clear liquid. Her long fingers pluck one of the vials out of the box -- it looks like a cleaned and de-labeled single-serving wine bottle actually -- and she twists off the cap. "Drink this," she tells him. "It's a healing potion. Five of these, one a day over the course of a week, brought me from minutes away from a one-way trip to the afterlife to fit as a fiddle not so long ago. They should do the same for you."

She leans forward, now, with the bottle, to bring it to his lips.

Keith leans forewatd just a little and drinks it slowly. He's so hopped-up on pain meds he doesn't really feel much. Which is good, because his entire body would be screaming.

After he has finished, he leans back, exhaling a little "Thanks Amanda... I'm afraid i'm not really all the way -here-... yesterday I thought I saw someone visiting me and the nurse said I was talking to the curtain for an hour..." he looks at her, his eyes have that unfocused look "... you -are- here, right?"

The potion has a near instantaneous effect. Over the next couple of minutes, many of the burns and injuries will begin healing. True, the pain meds will still mess up his focus and concentration, but the healing potion has, effectively, downgraded his condition from critical to merely serious.

"I'm really here," Amanda says with a soft chuckle, closing the wooden box and reaching out to touch his hand. She whispers a soft spell. Words appear atop the box: 'Property of Keith O'Neil'.

"There are two more potions in there," she tells him. "Take one tomorrow and one the next day. You'll be outta here and climbing the walls again in no time. Trust me." She focusses a stern gaze on him, however, waiting until he meets her eyes and she's sure she has his attention. "No more than one a day, mind," she tells him. "Otherwise, you'll just have wasted the dose. Potions aren't like cough syrups. Just because one's good doesn't mean more is better."

Keith nods slowly, meeting her gaze "I understand... I'll make sure I rememb---"

Suddenly, a look of great anxiety crosses his face, bringing his eyes into focus. "--Bil---Wiccan... /Wiccan!... Amanda... have you heard from him? Has he been in contact? Is he alright?" he seems to know something, and he is obviously fighting the fuzziness of the meds to try to get it across.

Amanda's ears rise and her head cants. She frowns, brows drawing together. "I haven't heard from him in weeks," she tells Keith, laying a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him. "Was he in the battle, too?" The news isn't always good at identifying all the various metas that come to the city's rescue, after all.

"He was here... last night..." he says, looking very intense. "Amanda... something's happened to him. Something bad, and I don't know whom I can tell... he ... /something/ has a hold of him. And he tried to take away my powers... get me to sign a contract.... he said his 'armies were marching' and that he would take back everything that was his own..."

He slowly falls back against the raised bed after making the effort to sit up. It is clear that bringing that much focus forth tired him "... you have to help him... I can't contact anyone from here... not you, Zatanna, Constantine or Dr. Fate... if you hadn't come in..."

"Easy," Amanda says gently, but firmly, now. "Easy, Keith. Take a deep breath." Her expression is extremely serious, now. "Are you sure it was him?" Stupid question. The kid's high as a kite on heavy duty pain meds. He can't be sure of anything.

She grimaces lightly. "Alright. It doesn't matter. I'll find him," she promises him. "I'll make sure he's okay, and help him -- " or stop him -- "if he's not."

She inhales a slow breath and reaches for her satchel again. After rooting around within one of the pockets, she pulls out another stone and enchants it with a com-spell. "Here," she says to him, now. "I'm going to put this in your box. You can contact me on it, okay?"

Keith nods slowly, "O-okay... please... make sure he's ok...." whatever it was, dreamt or not, it seems to have seriously disturbed him. "He wanted... my powers. In exchange for making me normal... so Patrick would take me back..." he blinks a little "... his voice was... and there was this throne..."

Somehow, that doesn't really sound like the Wiccan Daytripper met. However, she doesn't know the boy. At all. And it could very well be.

But it does sound demonic to her. Blackmage at the very least. And that's not good.

"I'll look into it," she tells him again. "I promise. Let me concentrate on that. You need to concentrate on resting."

Keith nods, closing his eyes and beginning to breathe a little deeper now.

"... don't hurt him... it's not him. He... wasn't like that. Something's gotten a hold of... hold of... " he exhales again, trying to blink himself awake.

"I'll figure it out," Amanda says again, reassuring him. One of the side effects of that potion -- and the body's general response to injury -- is indeed to make him very, very sleepy. He'll sleep better over the next three days than he probably has since his transformation. "Go to sleep, Keith," she tells him, beginning to gather up her stuff. "I got this. You just let the medicine do its work."

"Yes... the unicorn...." the rest is not outright ineligible. By the time the last of that comes out of his lips, he's already entering a deep sleep.

You can tell by the fact that he starts to snore, and it threatens to get louder down the line. It was a good idea to keep him separated from the others...

--- Half an hour later ---

Loki had promised Hilda that he would check up on Keith. But with his only set of clothes being his Asgardian armor, Loki had gotten some money from Sif and went shopping. It was... interesting. And something Loki would rather not talk about right now. He starts into the hospital and spies the gift shop. Hoping to make Keith feel better, the Trickster took a moment to purchase some purple orchids with a dark purple faux Garfield.

What?

Keith's purple. It makes sense.

Sorta.

Anyway.

After speaking with the nurse, Loki finds his way into Keith's room. He gingerly pushes open the door to peek inside.

Keith is laying on his bed, his body covered with bandages, clearly the extent of his injuries had been great indeed. When the Asgardian comes through the door, the cat looks towards it with rather unfocused eyes, and he frowns, as if trying to identify who it is. "...hello?" he says, groggily.

Loki's in a pair of tight black jeans, a long sleeve white shirt, and a dark green tshirt over it. He's got a green and grey flannel on over that, and Mjolnir hanging from a brand new belt. The Trickster is happy.

"Hi, there," Loki says softly as he steps in further carrying his gift.

"Tho--loki... wow... did Neimann Marcus open a franchise in Asgard? You look great."

The cat definitely sounds groggy. He's probably on enough pain meds to knock out a rhino. "... how did you know I was here?..."

"did who open a what?" asks the Trickster confusion completely evident on his face as he walks in and gently places the gift on the bedside table. Of the question he did understand, Loki smiles and moves to collect Keith's hand.. paw..that.

"A giant purple cat? Not so hard to track down. Even if I can't see or hear as well as I once did," Loki quips.

"I meant, how did you know I got my ass kicked?... I thought you were in Sassgar...Asswa......up there." The cat says, rubbing his eyes and squeezing Loki's hand. "... did I have a son while I was out?" he says, looking at the purple garfield with wide eyes.

"I just... kept asking around. There was a very nice group of medics that had seen to you in a coffee shop not far away. They pointed me in the right direction," Loki says, sounding ever so proud of himself. LIke Thor, being sent out for mocha beans, and being given directions. When Keith squeezes his hand, Loki returns the gesture with gentle friendliness, smiling and chuckling at the son comment.

"I don't think so, but he is cute, is he not? He reminded me of you, and so I purchased him. The merchant in the store below informed me that this says, "Get Well Soon." It seems appropriate."

The cat chuckles, leaning his head back against the raised bed for a second due to dizziness. "... thank you. I'm lucky to have friends like you... I'm not all alone like Wiccan said..." he said, as an fterthought.

"Of course you're not," Loki assures Keith, petting the fur of his hand gently. "ANd it is I who is hte lucky one. Having your help in this troublesome time..." Lokis says, worry dancing in his green eyes.

"I don't think I'm being much help now... I'm out of combat for a little bit..." Keith groans, closing his eyes "... that Anomaly Killer guy showed up... he called Beverly one. And me. He tried to kill Beverly... I don't understand what it all means."

Loki moves a hand from Keith's to his forehead, brushing back the longer fur between his ears. He recalls what earrubs felt like, and so... EAR RUBS!

"Rest, my friend. There is no dishonor in this. You have helped by bringing Rain to me. You have helped by ending those assassins. You have helped by helping calm me when I was shaken. What it means.. will all come to light when the time is ready," Loki says as he ear rubs.

Vorpal purrrs, relaxing a bit and half-closing his eyes. "...I'm sorry... about those mages... I lost my head. Patrick left me the night before and... I lost it. I don't kill... I mean... I try not to." he sighs "... how is the problem coming along? Are you okay?"

"Don't be. We are at war. Ther ewill be casualities. Some we can help. Some we can not," says Loki, tryingto sound reassuring. Most people don't get to see this side of the Thunder God, the side that is very much an aesir soldier and most often than not an instrument of War herself.

"It... has gotten no better. My brother and the Lady Sif have sent me here to... ensure my muddling does not disrupt the Throne, and... well, frankily... to help Midgard. It's awkward, but I am managing. Only... I'm not really sure HOW to be... you know...?"

"I know. It was like that when I first came into being like this." Keith looks at Thor with a sympathetic expression on his face. "... I'm sorry you're dealing with all of this... as soon as I get better, I'll stick by you. I've done the identity thing before... I'll help you find your way..."

Loki smiles at Keith, his eyes warming to a rish grass green. The hand in Keith's squeezes gently.

"I'll hold you to that," he says amiably, graceful fingers still rubbing at the feline's ears.

"Rest some more."

"But it'd be rude... falling asleep when a visitor's near." Keith smiles a little, eyes half closing, but he blinks to keep himself awake. "Is Eddie okay?... does he... you know... know?"

Loki just smiles more, continuing to rub.

"Injured warriors get a free pass on rudeness. And yes, I think so, anyway. He seemed to just.. know. Perhaps I should not have stepped out holding Mjolnir, mmm?"

The cat chuckles a little. "Warrior?... I'm nothing so much that advanced..." he yawns a little, leaning into the rubbing, his eyes almost closed. "...you could.... hide Mjlrrnnnrr.... in a satchllll....."

"I could." Loki replies, opting not to argue the point of warrior with Keith.

"But I would have to change it out to match each new outfit," he quips, smiling softly at his joke.

"And they say I'm vain..." the cat says with a little smile, slowly falling asleep under the rubbing, until he was finally snoring again. And loudly, at that. It was very possible that his snores could cause an immediate resonance in nearby surfaces. Possible, just not likely.

When the feline is asleep, Loki smiles gently and turns his attention to the bandages. One glance over a shoulder tells him that no one suspects a thing of the black haired young man. There's a grin, a twinkle of green eyes, and Loki pulls a vial from his pocket.

Loki works quickly and quietly. A few drops are measured out onto the bandages and then with reat care, Loki uses a straw to get some into Keith's mouth to be drunk. It's very sweet.

Keith mutters something in his sleep...it sounds like 'cookie'... and stirs a little, but remains asleep. In hindsight, he is going to find this day rather comical.