✉ [ic inbox]

[yardbird]

CSS » 006 » 073
MURPHY PENDLETON

"Not here right now. Which means I'm probably... somewhere else.
"If you're tryin' to get a hold of me for some reason, just wait for the tone and leave a message after the... thing.
"...Shit, that was... Th-that was bad. Is there some way to do this ov--?" [Beep!]

Please specify in the subject bar:
( text » audio » video » image )

( ROOM 006 » 073 ACTION SPAM )

Comments

audio;

[yardbird]

[There's a long silence. Like Murphy expects a punchline to be out in here somewhere. But he hears the other guy moving and it sounds like he's already on his way.]

...Weed. [Alex, what the hell are you thinking? HE LIVES WITH A COP.] Seriously?

audio;

[handelaar]

Mm. Good shit, so be careful with it. Not my fault if ya get too high an' puke.

[It's like he's talking about a particularly delicious batch of sweets on might overindulge on and not, y'know, drugs.]

audio;

[yardbird]

[He starts to open his mouth to say something completely different -- maybe just to turn down the deal altogether. But he's tired, all puked out, and something else occurs to him as well.]

Okay. That stuff's good for pain, right? [If it's medicinal, maybe Anne won't get on his case for it.]

audio;

[handelaar]

Yeah. Appetite, too. Usually.

[The lift doors open again in the background. Four floors didn't take that long to travel between, really, those things are fast.]

Oh-seven-three, right.

audio;

[yardbird]

Right. [Good thing. He hasn't been eating much these past few days, either.

[Rubbing his forehead, Murphy sits upright.]

That's it, yeah.

audio to action

[handelaar]

Good.

[Because that's where he is. Disconnect and few sharp raps, delivery for Murphy the veggie driver on 006.]

action;

[yardbird]

[Asides from Anne, Murphy hasn't been around that many people since they "got back". After the jump, he was returned to bed rest. By all counts, recovering in the medbay would have been the more prudent option, but he's pretty sure he won't be resting easy there if he did.

[Murphy pulls a shirt on before he answers the door. It's been a few days, but he still looks like shit. Pale-faced, hoarse tones; he even carries himself like he's dragging a two-ton weight over his back. Which explains why he leans his shoulder (at least the one that hadn't been shot) against the doorframe.

[...Come on, man. Exercise some kind of social norm here:]

Hey.

[Also, why does he get the feeling that he should know this guy?]

action;

[handelaar]

[Yeah, yeah, social norms. He raises a brow, tries to keep his gaze from lingering as it flicks down and makes its own assessment - this guy is way more fucked over than he is, makes the bandages across his jaw and neck look like child's play - finally just shoves out a small bag of weed. His best approximation of 3.5 grams, enough for a few good joints.]

Here.

[What was that about social norms?]

[yardbird]

[Murphy stares at first, like... This is a joke, right?

[When do the hidden cameras start to come in?]

Uh, thanks.

[Reluctantly, he takes the small bag. All three-point-five grams of it. And holy shit, he wasn't joking about this, was he?]

Did... Alex really tell you to give me this? [Not that he doesn't believe the guy, or that he couldn't use something to help alleviate how utterly shitty he felt while trying to recover from his injuries. It just seems too out there to believe, coming from that kid.]

[handelaar]

[With that, his hands shoot straight into his pockets, he chews on his bottom lip and glances off to the right side of the doorframe rather than at Murphy.]

Yeah. Wouldn't be givin' it away for free, otherwise.

[Well, it helps that this is the veggie driver guy, and that Heather seemed to like him enough, and that he really does look like he needs it about yesterday - but he doesn't say any of that.]

[yardbird]

[Murphy isn't bothered by the lack of eye contact. He doesn't care much for people staring at him, and he's kind of occupied staring at the bag, anyway.

[Except that he glances at Netherlands when he mentioned "for free".]

What d'you mean? [IS ALEX STRIKING DIRTY DEALS WITH NATIONS? NO ALEX, NO.]

[handelaar]

[He meets that glance and raises a brow.]

I owed him one. He's takin' your job for the next - [Another moment to eye Murphy up and down.] - week, at least.

[That's not entirely the reason he owes Alex, but both statements are true.]

[yardbird]

[His job...?]

Shit, the gardens... Didn't even... [Murphy's brows furrow as he remembers then. He blinks hard through this damn headache he's got. There's too much going on at once, and not enough being done at the moment.]

Thanks. Hopefully this won't take long.

["This" being his sick, of course. Murphy hates bed rest when he knows he has things to take care of.]

[handelaar]

Don't worry 'bout it.

[By that he means "Alex has your back", and some part of him really wants to just shove Murphy back to bed. Guy looks like he needs three weeks, not one, but "don't worry about it" is the best he's got.]

An' don't smoke too much. Not kiddin' about it being strong. It's Dutch.

[His strange notion of pride, let him show you it.]

[yardbird]

If you say so.

[You and everyone else, man. Murphy doesn't doubt that Alex is just trying to look out for him as well, even if his method of showing it was... different.

[He sees that pride there, and isn't about to undermine the goods.]

Got it. No problem...

[Somebody looks like he should be back in bed right about now, in any case.]

[handelaar]

I did.

[That comes without one ounce of irony or sarcasm.]

Get back to bed. An' be careful.

[He jerks his head that-a-way, turns on his heel, and stalks down the hallway. Have fun, Murp.]