III. (open-ish) i said i've been through a lot of noise

[oorah]

featuring: hotdog & his (close) cr
what's happening? frank is suffering from vaccine side-effects and has been ordered to go to the clinic to take care of it; meanttime max has arrived! and just undergone debarking surgery.
day: march 1 (night) & march 2 all day
content warnings: sick man, sick dog, the whine (not)heard round the world.
notes: if it's feasible that frank or micro would have told your character where he is, then feel free to show up. or if you are sick maybe you are unlucky enough to encounter this jerkbutt. hit me up if you want something specific!

march 1

[ after frank gifted jessica a lovely murder basket, she suspects he isn't feeling himself (joke's on her tbh.) since only just injecting him with the experimental drug that would (with any luck at all) make him immune to kilgrave's powers, she assumes frank's weird behavior is a side effect and sends him to the clinic to get checked out. after akira puts him on bedrest, he's open to visitors, and of course the first person he wants to see isn't a person at all. he texts hawkeye and micro furiously: ] bring me my fucking dog, you assholes.

[ okay, so he might be a little testy. once a sleepy max just out of surgery is brought to the clinic, too, the dog will lay at the foot of his bed, alternating between lazily guarding and even lazier dozing. frank hates being stationary. he hates feeling useless. the aches and pains are taking a toll on him, but not as much as the rising tide of frustration and irritability. even if he's usually not a chill guy by a landslide, today he's especially twitchy. he'll likely be up long into the night fantasizing different and creative ways to make kilgrave hurt. oh, hi kids. didn't see you there. ]

march 2

[ frank hasn't slept much. between the fever and refusing to take anything stronger than aspirin, he's sweating and out of it, an angry red rash climbing steadily up the back of his neck to peek out of his black jumpsuit collar. the blankets are on his feet, but he keeps kicking them off. he hates being sick, and he knows he's a terrible patient besides. maria always used to scold him for acting like a child; or worse than their actual children since they took being sick like a champ, just happy for the day away from school. he could endure torture and pain aplenty, max the dog had witnessed both first-hand. he lived in bunkers buried in the sand and traveled to countries that were just holes in the ground, but a little fever and nausea and he's ready to die. every time a cold shiver wracks his spine, he wishes for it even; picturing the bullet in his skull. the doctors telling him a shift in millimeter increment would have killed him. should have, even the way it is.

max is on the floor now, his big block head peeking out from underneath the cot. he watches the door, alerting frank to any new arrival with a tiny growl before shutting his eyes again. the noise little more than a rattly rumble from the dog's barrel chest. the message is clear: you take this one, dad. i'll get the next. ]

Comments

[clussy]

(It's a delight. He had already begun to trust Frank all things considered, but having a cute dog really solidifies some things. Eddie automatically smiles, offering the dog his hand to sniff at before finally petting him.

He signs quickly:)

Cute!

(A sign he had learned tragically from its abuse from Richie. Eddie lets himself be distracted with giving the dog some proper loving, but he had come here for a reason. Frank.

He bends down to kiss the top of Max's head, but finally steps around to invite himself on the edge of Frank's bed. He tugs his little legs up, crosses them, and looks at Frank straight on.)

You're not being upset are you?

(He messes up the sign for 'difficult' a little, but the general idea gets across. He gets open his bag, digging into it.)

I have stuff for rash.

[oorah]

[ he watches the boy and the dog with warmth in his gaze, swaying slightly without noticing he's doing it. the fever has abated somewhat but all the other symptoms are still raging. it's hard to focus on the sign language, but he makes the effort for eddie. eddie's a good kid.

is he... upset? well, yeah, but he doesn't have to get into that. the context surrounding the question clues him in that maybe that wasn't the word he'd meant to use. is he being a good patient? definitely not. he gives a tired smile. ]

Thank you, [ is all he really manages, shutting his eyes. just for a second, he tells himself. ]

[clussy]

(Mmmmhm. That isn't too surprising to Eddie, and he doesn't bother with signing anything else. Instead, he becomes rather focused on why he had showed up here to begin with. There's the softest clicking from inside of his bag as two jars tap together. Eddie grimaces, but he doesn't look too frightened.

He takes out a jar of pulpy looking stuff and uncaps it. It smelled earthy and natural, but there was a hint of something else in there as well. He scoops a finger in and reaches out soon after to rub the ointment over Frank's rash. It might not cure it, but it certainly would help to alleviate some of the pain that came with the rash. Eddie's face was rather focused as he worked, his mouth terse and his eyes hard as he made sure to get most of what he could of the rash that was peeking out.

Once he's finished with that, he wipes his hands off on a rag from his bag then signs again.)

Drinking much?

[oorah]

[ the tap of the jars doesn't get a reaction out of him either, and once he understands what it is eddie is trying to do he bows his head forward as much as he can so the boy can work. when he's done, frank will slump off to the side a bit, not having the energy to sit up and not wanting to lay down on the ointment before it has a chance to start working. ]

Drinking what? [ like fluids or... alcohol fluids? he sure wants whiskey right now even though he knows it's the worst idea. he closes his eyes for a moment, briefly daydreaming about the crate of wild fowl the natives left for him in his new house. ]

[clussy]

Water. Juice. You know- liquids?

(There might be a teensy bit of snark in the way he says this, but more in a deadpan sort of way than anything. Adults were real goofy sometimes, he thinks.)

The more you drink the quicker this stuff will get out of your system.

(At least that's always what doctors told him anyway.

[oorah]

Yeah. Yeah. [ he points to the cup of water on his table, if eddie could hand him that it would be great. ]

You're a good doctor, Eddie.

[clussy]

(The compliment catches him off guard enough that Eddie winds up blushing. He itches his cheek and clears his throat a little. A soft sound that wasn't about to rouse up any Sound Eaters. He reaches out to pick up the water and hand it to Frank.)

I'm not a professional or anything. There's better doctors here. I'm glad I could help you even a little though.

(Eddie chews his lip, contemplating Frank. He goes to sign, but lowers his hands, fingers twitching. Then he slowly raises his hands back up.)

Are you good with knives?

[oorah]

[ he accepts the cup with a tiny nod and brings it to his lips with a quaking hand, taking a shallow sip and drawing it back down before trying to toy with his device he'd left on the pillow with the other hand. it's hard to keep up with sign in this state, let alone one-handed. ]

did you just ask me about knives? [ k n i v e s u say]

[clussy]

(Eddie wasn't really sure what he preferred, truthfully. Sign language felt a lot more expressive than texting, but emojis helped with that. So he texts a simple:)

Yes🔪

I use them. To try and defend myself if I have to.

[oorah]

[ the little emoji has frank busting out in a grin and he nods. ]

that's good, eddie. real good. anyone ever teach you how to use one or did you teach yourself?