ArchivedLogs:Downsides

Downsides
Dramatis Personae Anole, Marrow
In Absentia	2015-11-04 "God. Fucking. Damnit." (part of Flu Season TP.)
Location <MOR> Below New York
Buried beneath the bustle and noise of New York's busy streets, the world underneath the city is a quieter place. Quieter, but far from deserted. Occasional ladders, often rusting, ascend to the city above and are evidence that at /one/ point these tunnels had been in use, or had been planned for it; perhaps by way of maintenance, or access to subways or sewers. These stretches have been abandoned by civic infrastructure for some time now, though, but occasional scraps of evidence -- discarded food wrappers, piles of tatty blankets or moldering old mattresses, sometimes voices carrying echoes through the dank concrete -- give evidence that /someone/ still uses these tunnels. The rumbling of subway trains sounds frequently through the walls, many of the train routes accessible through various doors and openings. One of the perks of not feeling great is being able to take easy jobs and slack off for a bit. Which is why Marrow is lurking at a Morlock watch post instead of roaming around fighting people. Alas even her lurking isn't quite on form today, muttered cursing can be heard from a way off along with the rasping sound of a metal file. There is faint skittering, not along the floor but along the ceiling of the tunnel leading up to Marrow's post. Anole is not an easy figure to make out in the darkness of the underground, blended in to the dirty walls, but he makes himself known well before he draws near, pausing a fair distance off. "...I brought tobacco." As if he /needs/ to pay a toll to pass. But he has one /anyway/. Maybe he just loves her /that/ much. There is a pause in the rasping sound and a clatter of metal on concrete. "You did huh?" Marrow asks, glancing down the tunnel. "Well maybe today won't be totally shit..." She pauses, takes a few oddly wet sounding breaths and adds "What're you down here for anyway? Ain't the weekend yet." Anole scurries halfway down the wall, more at head-height as he approaches. He's digging a package of loose tobacco out of a pocket of his grungy jacket. His brows have furrowed at the sound of her breathing. "Yeah -- uh. You. Sound funny." He holds the tobacco out towards her. "Everyone at school is turning into zombies. Classes didn't seem important." Marrow doesn't quite snatch the tabacco. But it does disappear into her jacket like she's working on a conjuring trick. "'S nothing. Got a bone that poked through my lung a little bit ago. Got the fucking thing out eventually. Usually the goddam.. things don't hit anything vital." She snarls and spits. "Guess I'm slipping now it's impossible to get any sleep. Bunch'a pricks up all night coughing." "Oh. /Um/. That -- doesn't. Sound very. Pleasant. I mean ow? Do you need --" Anole frowns, throwing a slightly worried glance down in Marrow's general direction. "I don't know, pain... killers? I could probably -- find," read: steal, "some. Somewhere. Lungs seem a little -- important?" Though now he's edging juuust a little bit farther back up the wall. "... Coughing? S'everyone down here sick too?" Marrow pauses for a very long moment. "You weren't fucking joking about the school being full of zombies?" she asks cautiously. "God. Fucking. Damnit." She gestures at the offending bone shard, poking out from a little trash fire. "I'll be fine. Just need a little while for everything to knit back together. We might... have a little problem down here. Know any doctors from that school of yours?" "I -- no. I wasn't joking, I just. I mean, they're not zombies /yet/," Anole acknowledges, "but everyone's sick and coughing and getting angry at each other and /then/ they got told not to talk /English/ so you know what /that/ means." He shrugs, green eyes slipping across to eye the bone shard. "Uh -- fine? If -- you say so." He sounds a little unconvinced. "There's doctors there, yeah. Nobody's been a zombie /here/ yet have they?" His teeth scrape against his lip. "... how would you tell if people are getting angrier?" "Down here? Someone's always pissed off," Marrow points out with a snarl that is almost a smile. "Think I broke a pimps leg in six places the other day though. Usually I'd settle for one or two. Sound angrier to you? But no, no zombies. More accidents though, couple of people having trouble keeping things under control. Could just be lack of sleep though." "Well --" Anole hesitates, giving this question Serious Consideration. "Did he deserve it?" He fidgets slightly uncomfortably on the wall, his brows rumpling together. "... I should talk to Dr. McCoy. Maybe -- maybe there's room. To see people from here. At the school. I -- don't want everyone to be zombies..." Another hesitation. "/Again/." Marrow tilts her head. "Don't really care much for pimps," she admits. "People selling people. Ain't fuckin' right. Not sure it's the zombie thing though, people got sick with that went bad real fast. No-one is dying, couple of people even seem to be getting better. Hopefully it'll just blow over." "Hopefully!" Anole's expression brightens slightly, at this. "I'm probably just being paranoid. Or the school is. A little bit of sniffles and it's English-boycott all over again." Though even so, he's looking just a little bit uncertain as he glances over his shoulder back the way he'd come from. "...still. I guess I should. Write Dr. McCoy and see if they can -- look at people. Here." Marrow sighs. "You should head back to school," she orders. "If it /is/ the zombie virus you wanna steal plenty of food before things get bad. Maybe sneak some medicine if they got any. /Then/ run off." "That's really inefficient," Anole protests with a small shake of his head. "There's /way/ closer places to steal food from, easy." "Not that also have medicine," Marrow counters, frowning and then hocking up a mouthful of blood. "Think my lung is finally on the mend. Eugh no-one ever tells you the downsides of super fucking healing. Coughin' up chunks of your guts."