good morning, sunshine

who: brett and eris
where: spooky doom house
when: morning

When Eris regained consciousness, it wasn't necessarily a pleasant sort of experience. She woke into a world where her head pounded, her body ached, her throat was sore, her stomach ached, she felt vaguely like she was going to be sick, and...generally speaking she felt awful. She was also vaguely surprised, because she really hadn't expected to wake up at all. So upon waking, and realizing she wasn't in fact, dead, and was back in the most uncomfortable damn bed in the known universe...Eris was a little hard pressed to be grateful for continued survival.

She groaned and curled farther into a ball, the movement making shivers break out through her form, since a little of the cool air of the room drifted in through the thin blanket. God, she felt terrible. She probably needed to take something. Or...find a window to leap out of. Cynically, she figured she was only on the second floor. She likely wouldn't actually die. Crap. After having to convince herself a whole lot, she got out of bed, dragging the blanket with her, wrapping it round her shoulders as her teeth chattered. Stumbling out of her room, she tried to remember where the bathroom was, but...that was kinda beyond her reach at the moment. So she shuffled along til she was reaching out for the rail to keep herself upright, breath coming heavier than she would have liked. She only vaguely realized after her vision cleared that she was looking down into Brett's room again. Why the hell didn't he have a ceiling, anyways? What the hell kind of room was that? Who built this house, and what kind of crack had they been on in the first damn place?

Brett was sleeping, lying on his side, his legs positioned carefully beneath the covers, supported by pillows, a position that actually only left him one pillow to support his head, which he'd folded in half and scrunched up to get high enough and which he was holding in place in his sleep by wrapping an arm around it. At least, that had been the plan - he'd got himself comfortable last night, got himself enough pillows by stealing some from the empty room next door, since this fucking house didn't have enough in just his room. But, sometime in the night, those stolen pillows had been stolen back and since then Brett's sleep had become increasingly disturbed as his unconscious mind noticed the subtle change in positioning. Not that he could actually feel the loss of the pillows from his legs, but the change altered the angle of his body and a host of other small matters that registered as Not Right. It had been different when they'd been travelling, he'd expected that, but in a bed - even an uncomfortable one - when he'd specifically set himself up before going to sleep? He remembered that shit, he had to - he didn't want to ever have to worry about pressure sores and other shit like that. he shifted slightly in his sleep, muttering to himself and showing signs of waking up.

Eris heard the sounds, and figured Brett was stirring. And vaguely, she wondered if she asked him where the bathroom was, if he would answer her. Since, really, as of yesterday they were no longer speaking. Or...something. She didn't know exactly, mostly she just knew that things were fucked, and she didn't have any real way of fixing it. She leaned farther over, and just rested her forehead against the railing, absently thinking about slivers and when her last tetanus shot had been. And oh yeah, that whole her feeling like shit thing. That was pretty prominent in her brain. Or, it was, before the coughing fit wracked her frame, and she groaned, not liking the rattling sound and feeling that came from her lungs.

It was that sound which woke him properly, catapulting him out of sleep, his eyes springing open as he looked round, then sat up and looked round - and then remembered the lack of a ceiling over half his room and looked up, realising that's where the coughing had come from. He pulled himself over to the edge of the bed and craned upwards, trying to see who was there.

Eris took a few moments to breathe, which was harder than it sounded, before she opened her eyes again. She could vaguely see him down there. "...you wouldn't...happen to know where the bathroom is...do you, sweetheart?" she asked far too haltingly, but she was still short of breath a bit, and god did she sound awful. And hey her throat hurt. But yeah. She sounded like something had died in her throat. Swallowing, she winced, because that hurt too. Awesome. She was definitely an unhealthy little bunny. Why had they bothered with her again?

Brett stopped and drew back a little, no longer looking to see who was there. Since it was obvious. He didn't need to see her to know that. he moved back to the middle of the bed, then across to the other side, reaching for his chair. "Well, there's one down here. You want one up there, I'm not exactly the person to ask now, am I?" he told her, bluntly, not refusing to answer, but not even attempting to be nice about it either.

She hummed a non-committal sound, and didn't answer beyond that. He'd given her the answer. She'd find it. Maybe. Hopefully before her stomach decided to reject whatever might be in it. The jury was still out on that. Giving herself another minute, she pushed up from being leaned over, teeth starting to chatter again as she did so, and she held the blanket more closely around her form, starting to walk along the wall. And literally along the wall, she dragged her shoulder against it to help keep herself upright. Her head was thudding sickly, and she reached up to get her hair out of her eyes, a motion that really was just way too much work right then. Getting to the stairs, she stared down them, having visions of tumbling head over tincups down. That ought to be fun. She sat down on the top step, and actually started down that way, taking one at a time, just kind of vaguely sliding her way down.

Brett slid himself into his chair and started over towards his dresser, going after clothes, but it was when he started moving that he frowned, because his wheelchair didn't move as it had last night - it moved like it was still a rusty, creaky piece of shit. Like it had been yesterday morning before he'd spent the entire day working on it. That was odd, to say the least. Either that, or it had rusted up again, overnight. Piece of crap that it was.

She got down to the bottom of the steps and remained there for a few moments, coughing some more. That was just beautiful. Then she pushed herself to her feet, and opened up the first door she came to. Which happened to lead to...a hallway with counters, AKA the kitchen. It took her a second to really latch onto the fact that it was pretending to be a kitchen. There was a stove and fridge and shit. But seriously, it wasn't really a kitchen. She leaned on a counter, and eyed the narrow space, thinking she didn't know if Brett could manage in there. Then, about two seconds on the heels of that, she rolled her eyes to herself. No, Brett wouldn't be managing, and it had nothing to do with room for his chair. He just probably wouldn't go in there period. The space was too claustrophobic. Which had her wondering if he'd eaten yesterday. He wasn't exactly Mr. Sunshine, now was he? And asking for help? Right. That was going to happen. She opened up a counter or two, finding a bowl, and then some cereal. Cinnamon Life, or something like it. The box looked vintage, but the bag inside was new and unopened, so she poured some, then got milk and poured that over it before hunting up a spoon.

Brett got himself dressed, foregoing the shower, because if she was headed that way, he wasn't. That was just the way it was. He could hear someone - probably her, he figured - moving around in the room next door and his stomach rumbled, reminding him that the only thing he'd had to eat the day before was a couple of energy bars which had been in his stuff. he's have to go looking into the stores in town today, get a stash of food, work around the fact that he couldn't use the kitchen. That would be the plan for today and there was no time like the present for that, he decided, slipping his heavy jacket on and leaving the room, headed for the front door.

She shuffled out of the kitchen, trying to juggle holding onto the cereal bowl, while keeping her shitty blanket wrapped around her. This was not a task that should have been as difficult as it was, but it was proving to be hard for her. A little bit of milk slopped over the side of the bowl and she swore softly, walking back out of the kitchen by the same door she'd entered. She'd seen another door, but she didn't want to confuse herself, and come out someplace she didn't recognize and couldn't track. Walking around the corner and into the hall that the front door existed in, she saw Brett. Wordlessly, she made her shambling, slow way closer to him and she held the bowl out for him. She didn't so much look at him as look past him, beyond his shoulder. "I'm not cooking for you." she told him, voice still sounding awful. That just wasn't going to go away.

Brett looked at the bowl, all too aware of his empty stomach and it was sheer bloody-minded willpower that stopped him from just grabbing it from her hands as he looked at her rather than the food. "Didn't ask you to - I don't want your charity, Eris," he told her, keeping the tone even though he recognised she was sick. A moment later, he told himself that it was because she was sick - or possibly sick. Why the hell would she get him breakfast when she was clearly ill? What was her angle? What did she want?

She coughed again, and just frowned at him with a twitch at his calling her Eris, eyes ticking to his for just a heartbeat before she literally set the bowl down on his knee and let go. If he grabbed it, fine, if not, then whatever, but she wasn't standing there holding it for him. She moved to go try and find the bathroom he'd told her about, even if she didn't know where it was going to be. Hopefully not far. Maybe there was a bath in there. A bath would be nice, right? Hot, so she could quit shivering? She found the other side of the hall to lean her shoulder against again as she walked, and spotted a new door, though upon opening it up, she discovered it was just the other way out of the kitchen.

Brett grabbed the bowl - because he didn't want to end up with milk and soggy cereal down his legs. He didn't make any move to eat it though. He watched her move away, yet didn't follow. "I thought you'd fucked off, anyway," he called after her after a couple of minutes.

"I had." Eris answered, stopping for a moment, coughing some more and she grimaced. "I woke up back here." She didn't say where she'd fucked off to. Wasn't his business, was it? If he wanted to know, he'd have to ask, and she trusted he wouldn't. But she had in fact, fucked off, and she wasn't back in this place by choice. She'd gone out and had been fairly sure she'd been going to die, and feeling like she was, she still wasn't exactly sure she was grateful for continued life.

Brett looked down at his chair again, his rusty piece of crap chair that had been a whole lot less rusty when he'd gone to sleep last night. "Looks like we're stuck with you then, doesn't it?" he pointed out, baldly.

She got to the corner, and looked helplessly around at her. there were a lot of doors. Fuck. Which did she try first? She had no idea where the stupid bathroom was. And of course all of the doors were shut. Just to fuck with her. Or, she chose to take it personally, anyhow. "I dunno. Maybe I'll go for another drive." she muttered, not really to him, more to herself. If she was doing that, she was going to have to work up to it.

Brett wondered why she'd stopped at the corner, then told himself firmly that he didn't give a shit what she did or didn't do. He didn't follow her at all - though much of that had actually to do with the fact that he was holding a bowl of cereal and milk on his lap and he couldn't actually hold that and push his chair at the same time. So he was stuck, unless he decided to just dump the bowl on the floor., but why would he want to? He wasn't going anywhere. He didn't want to follow her. he was mad at her. he didn't give a shit at all that she was ill. Really he didn't. It didn't at all bug him and it wasn't even making him twitch. Not even a little. Really.

She stared at the door options, and then pushed off of the wall to make it across to a door around a different corner to her left. or sort of corner. It was more like a badly shaped u. Fumbling at the doorknob, her blanket slipped from her shoulders, and shivers raced through her body, her teeth starting to chatter immediately. Opening up the door, she looked inside and saw not inviting bathtubs, or even plumbing. Fuck. So she pushed the door open so she wouldn't forget and try it a second time, then started her way back to where she'd come from. This would have been a lot easier if she'd actually looked around the house yesterday before leaving. Buuuut she hadn't. There'd been Everett, and the shotgun, and then Brett had disowned her so she'd been gone pretty fast. She did have to kneel down to grab her blanket again, which she took the time to hug around herself once more, internally cursing how slow she was moving.

She disappeared out of sight, but Brett could still hear her moving around, and he was still sat there like a lemon with a bowl on his lap filled with food he desperately wanted but was too fucking stubborn to eat. Anyway, it would have gone soggy by now and he fucking hated soggy cereal - in case he needed any further justification. he left it for a few minutes, then set the bowl down on the floor and started off after her. No, not after her - back to his room. She just happened to be going in the same direction. Fine.

She was opening up the other bedroom's door, looking inside and again not seeing bathroom-like things, when she heard him coming up behind her. She didn't look back, though. She paused for a few surprise sneezes, which made her throat ache, and she moaned out a pretty pathetic 'ow'. Then she started for the next door, the across from the door she'd just tried. She refused to ask. She could be in the entirely wrong direction, and there could be a magical hidden bathroom someplace else, and she'd rather take the next three hours finding it than ask.

She was trying to yank his chain, play the pity card. he wouldn't put it past her. She lied about her name - the simplest of things, but she lied about it, she led him on. She wasn't stupid, she saw things, she would have noticed it was days before he'd asked, she'd probably been waiting for him to cave, and he had, and she'd lied to him. So, what else was bullshit? What else was a game, a play? He should never have trusted her even the little bit he did, he should stay angry at her, angry at the fucking world. He rolled himself past her, up to the bathroom door and pushed it open. "There," he told her, before turning and heading into his own room, leaving the door open as he always did and going for the windows to open them up as well.

She was relieved when he did that. Because it meant her search was over, and she hadn't had to ask. And anyways, she didn't need his help. She waited til he was past her, into what she was assuming was his room, and she headed into the bathroom, letting the blanket fall to the floor in the hallway. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be a nice tub. In fact, there was only a shower tap set into the wall, and the nastiest looking curtain behind it. She wasn't even sure that thing was safe looking. When was her last tetanus shot? But she headed in anyhow, shutting the door behind her. She used the facilities, and then sat on the sink for a few long minutes, trying to decide if she was going to throw up, and if she really even wanted to try to shower. She was still too cold, if there was hot water, it might help. Hrm. In the end, she walked over and turned the hot water on, to see if it was the right color, and if she could get a decent temperature. Weirdly enough, she seemed to. Stripping, which also took her longer than she would have liked, she went to stand in the spray. And eventually she slid down the wall and just sat there on the floor in the spray, hoping the water would rid her of the chill through her body.

Brett looked out of the now open windows at the heavy snow outside. So much for his search for food - unless some good Samaritan decided to clear the paths and sidewalks, he was housebound until the snow passed. Which was a fact which had him moving closer to the windows, breathing in the stingingly cold, but very fresh air. Nobody was going to clear the paths - his lack of faith in his fellow man told him that.

He sat there for long minutes, listening to the shower next door, just breathing until he became so cold that no matter what his claustrophobia said, he had to shut the windows. he moved back and away to his top drawer. He'd realised yesterday that everything had been put away for him, so he'd checked where it all was as he put away the stuff she'd thrown down to him. Today he was somewhat unsurprised to discover that the things she'd tossed to him yesterday was missing, but everything else was in place.

He found an energy bar in with the first aid kit and he ate it ravenously - it at least took the edge off. But, for all of that, it was the first aid kit he was after as he rooted through it, finding what he was looking for. He shut the drawer again and returned to the centre of the room, facing the door.

Eventually the water started to run cold, so she quickly reached up to shut it off. Then she stayed where she was for a few minutes longer, coughing occasionally, and she got a few towels to wrap around herself. As much as she didn't savor the idea of walking through the house with only a towel, or, say, leaving the room where it was warm because of the steam, she felt like she always did when she got sick. Like her other clothes were just icky and she couldn't convince herself to put them back on. The blanket was out in the hallway. She kicked her dirty clothes beneath the sink, and after she ran a brush through her hair, she opened up the door, crouched down to fumble for the blanket. Pulling that closer, she wrapped that around her shoulders while the towel was wrapped tight around her otherwise. And still her teeth started chattering in no time. It was fucking freezing.

He waited until she appeared, until he could see her through his doorway, though he'd been listening for her anyway. "Eris," he said, his voice clear, in control. He didn't add anything else, didn't move toward her, nothing.

She twitched again. "Stop calling me that." she said, voice quiet, and she didn't look over at him. She did, however, stop where she was, where his open door was to her side, where she was very aware of him there. She was waiting to find out what the hell he wanted. And it occurred to her that he couldn't have eaten the cereal that fast. Stubborn fucking bastard.

"Why not - it's your name isn't it?" he asked, though there wasn't really a question tone to the drawled statement. And it wasn't like he ever called people by their names - they might get to thinking that he cared enough to remember. He was always very careful never to use anyone's name. Except here. Except now. When her name was an insult, a reminder to both of them. A fucking huge red target.

She shut her eyes and her jaw set. She was way too fucking sick right now to do this with him. So she started walking again. A few retorts definitely came to mind. About how for someone so smart, he sure was being a fucking idiot right now. Things of that nature. But whatever, it wasn't worth it in the first place, was it? And besides. His tone hadn't really been a question. He'd made whatever decisions he had, and obviously couldn't be bothered to give her even the slightest shred of the benefit of the doubt, so...whatever, she had to go back upstairs and possibly die. At least for a little while.

Brett watched her disappear from view and gave it a moment, before swearing under his breath, dumping what he was holding into his lap and then starting after her. "Fuck it, okay - Julia," he called after her, bloody idiot that he was.

She hadn't got that far. She was moving with the rapid pace of a mildly concussed turtle. She stopped when he spoke again, and half looked over her shoulder. Not fully, but enough that he would know she was listening. Waiting for whatever it was he had to say to her. It was odd, hearing her name out loud. She'd told him, because he'd asked, but he hadn't used it. Not until right then, and it was just...she didn't even know how to describe it. And she probably would have done better with any kind of feelings-sorting if she didn't have a pounding headache, so she gave up trying to quantify anything.

He followed her out, fighting with the rusted wheels of his chair which squeezed and groaned with every rotation and which were such hard work to shift anywhere. he could feel the rust under his palms as well - all in all, he hated this piece of shit. Again. He headed up behind her and stopped. "Here," he said, holding out a plastic bag of medicine bottles.

She half turned, and she reached out to take them, frowning with confusion. "What're these?" she asked, then paused, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth as she coughed again, and she wound up leaning back against the wall once more as well. Standing tall and upright was a wonderful statement to make about being strong and shit, but she just didn't have the willpower for it just now.

"Antibiotics, painkillers - for the aches and to bring down your temperature," he told her. "You need to take them. And - have you taken your other meds today?" he asked her. "..Did you take them at all yesterday?" he added. Really, he needed to be going now, she could fucking well look after herself, why was he even bothering anyhow?

She looked blankly down at the bottles, not sure what was what, and how long would she have to take them? At his question about her meds today, she shook her head, and as for yesterday...she thought she'd taken some when putting herself to sleep, but she didn't know if she'd taken them when she'd needed to in the morning or evening. She held the back out to him. "You know I'm not going to remember to take these." she said. "Or if I have taken them, or...whatever." she said, tone low. Quiet, and the rasp in her voice nearly obscured what she was actually saying, but she was just barely understandable. She skipped the questions about her medication yesterday and today. She just asked a different one. "What do you care anyways...not really your problem, remember?" she said. "...did you eat yesterday?" she added on the end, sort of speaking before she managed to think better of it, so the question got out there.

"I don't care - I just don't want the house to get sick. Infection spreads, you know," Brett told her, giving her a plausible explanation that meant that he didn't have to question his own motives, or explain why he gave a fuck about someone he was still fucking furious with. he'd never liked seeing people hurt, or sick - not and not do anything about it. But to admit that would be to admit weakness and he wasn't giving this girl shit to use against him, not again, not anymore.

"I'll stay in my room then, and when I'm feeling good enough, I'll go." she told him, dropping the bag back onto his lap since he hadn't taken it from her. She was taking the ignoring of the question she'd asked as confirmation that he hadn't. Which had her thinking again. Of course, anything she might make he might not touch because of infection. There had to be crackers and cheese or fruit or something in there she could set out on one of the tables. She'd seen tables...fuck. somewhere. The layout of this house confused her something awful. She definitely didn't have a grasp of it. She shifted to pull the blanket around her shoulders better again.

"The fuck you will," Brett spat back. "You've got flu, or something - you know people do die of that shit and I'm not cleaning up your fucking corpse. How come you're suddenly so fucking sick anyhow. You were just fine yesterday," he pointed out.

She shot him a Look at his first statement. "I'll do whatever I want, princess, so fuck you and your orders." she snapped--which would have come off better without the hacking coughing fit at the end there. "And there's nowhere to actually go out there." she said. "Everything's locked up or emptied out. I went for a drive. Out, til I was out of gas. Then I went to sleep, and woke up here." she told him, since this time he actually had asked. Why she was bothering answering him at all she didn't know. Or why she was being honest about it. That had worked out so fabulously well for her the first fucking time. "It wasn't really that warm in the car." she spelled out for him. "And I'm aware people die of that sort of thing." In fact, she'd been pretty positive she was done for. Waking up had been a surprise.

Brett looked at her, frowning, stilling, then he moved forward, reaching under the blanket to touch her hands, her skin, checking her fingernails, looking again at her face, at her lips. "How long were you out there for?" he asked, his tone changing. Fuck it - there was severe snow out there and she'd tried to sleep in a car? Had the stupid bitch not heard of exposure? Of hypothermia?

She shied back from him when he reached out to touch her, though she didn't have far to go, and fast movements weren't in her skill set right now. So, she didn't actually get anywhere. "Stop--" she started to say, trying to pull her blanket more firmly around her again. "And...how the fuck should I know? I just...I don't know when I left. I walked around for a while, found a car, had a wonderful, soul crushing conversation with everyone's favorite officer, then drove off. ...a while, why?" Her teeth were chattering again, making her a little harder to understand than usual. She clenched her jaw tight to try and stop it.

"You need to get back to bed. And you need to take your meds - and we need to get that doctor to come see you," Brett told her, firmly, pressing the plastic bag towards her again. He didn't even fucking know where the doctor was, but there was a hospital and he knew he'd read about some doctor guy on the journals. He could find the guy, give him a ring, he could come over and see to her.

"No." Eris said, an automatic reaction to any mention of Dave. She shook her head and for just a second, there was genuine fear there in her eyes. "No no....no. I'm fine, I just need...I need to go sleep. Or...no. No doctor, he isn't coming anywhere near me, Brett, don't you dare even tell him---no." She'd leave. she'd....go upstairs and hurry--ha!--and throw clothes on and take off. there had to be a car somewhere she could take. Somewhere nearby. She could...take blankets. Sure. Whatever.

Brett caught the flash behind her eyes and that - that he considered honest. That, that fear couldn't be faked. Not like that. "Okay - no doctors," he assured her. "But, will you take the pills. Hell, princ... Hell, you're going to probably get worse before you get better. You need to stay wrapped up, you need to keep warm. You've got to take your meds, keep drinking, keep hydrated... Someone's gotta look after you," he told her, firmly.

She barely caught the change there. When he'd probably been going to call her princess, the name she considered his 'nice' one for her. She didn't especially like what he was saying. "Well, there isn't anyone." she told him, pulling the blanket up and over the top of her head, because now she felt even more freezing. Which she was positive was purely in her head, but that didn't change the goosebumps that were covering her, or the tremble in her frame from shivering. Or the next coughing fit. She was miserable and wanted to lie down now. Seriously. She wanted to slide down the wall, too, but that would indicate she was staying where she was, and she kept meaning to move.

Brett's jaw tightened as he thought. Who was there? he didn't fucking know anyone. As far as he knew, there were four people in this house - one had tried to kill her, another had threatened to kill her and the fourth? Was, admittedly an unknown, therefore a possibility. But an absent possibility right now, but maybe she'd do it later. Didn't give him a whole host of options. "Look - there's a spare room opposite mine. You should stay there. Keep warm. Not far to the bathroom. I can... Someone'll make sure that you take your meds. Near the kitchen as well." He wouldn't be able to do that. He could watch her meds, but someone else would have to make sure she ate if she couldn't herself.

She shook her head, eyes on the floor. "Don't...do me any favors. I should just go." she said honestly. Not that she was sure where she'd go. Maybe this time she'd try just like...the church. Maybe she could get in somehow. Or one of the other public buildings. There was a tent...maybe. Was it in his stuff? She couldn't remember. She knew she'd given him everything else though, so he probably had it now. She hadn't noticed that everything had reset itself. She reached up to cover her face for a moment, it feeling hot to the touch, though she didn't know if that was her imagination or not. And for a few moments there, she really just kind of just concentrated on breathing. She sagged a little against the wall before she caught herself, pushing herself upright and she turned to start heading....somewhere up the hall. Was she going the right way to get back to the stairs? Her room was up there, though she'd probably have to try a few doors. "I'll get you something from the kitchen, what do you want?" she asked, since that door was coming up. At least she thought it was the kitchen. And she vaguely saw the bowl she'd initially given him--not eaten, unfortunately. And he wouldn't go in there, it was like a hallway of cramped doom. She didn't think it even had windows. He'd hate it all to hell in there.

Brett snorted and turned away. "Don't do me any favours," he spat. If she was going to be like that, then fuck her. She could just... He pushed himself away, heading for the living room. She could do whatever the hell she wanted - he'd made the offer, despite everything. If she wanted him to beg, then she'd be waiting a hell of a long time.

She looked back over her shoulder. "You wouldn't have gone in here." she said after him. "And it wasn't like we had a ton of food with us. And, you didn't eat the cereal I got you." she continued, pausing to cough a bit more and she thunked her head back against the wall for a moment. "You won't ask anyone to get you anything. So...just quit being a stubborn bitch for two seconds. It's stupid. You're smarter than that."

"Oh - you can fucking talk. You can hardly fucking stand, you can't even remember to take your meds, you're fucking sick and you won't let anyone look after you. You're talking about going out there, leaving again - have you seen the snow outside - and I'd be surprised if you could even make it back up those stairs inside of a half hour and even then you'd probably break you fucking neck coming back down again. So don't try and fucking lecture me about being a stubborn bitch when you can just go look in a fucking mirror to find one of them," he told her, turning his chair back round to face her.

She looked towards the windows. No, actually, she hadn't seen the snow outside. So...that was new. It looked white out there. And, if she was paying attention, she could hear the wind out there too. She just hadn't been paying attention til right then. Looking back over at Brett, she didn't say anything for a moment. "Brett, if you think that I'm going to be letting the man who tried to kill me 'look after' me, then you take me for an idiot. And the blind girl? Who threatened me from the start with either her dog or her friends?" she shook her head. "No. So...that leaves you. And you changed track there when you were talking to me, so you don't want to do it either. And frankly, right now you're not my favorite person." Because he'd hurt her feelings. Or...no, not that. NO, he hadn't, he'd just...whatever, she wasn't even good at lying to herself right then, her head was such a mess and the pounding in it didn't help either. "So...what exactly am I meant to do here?"

"Since when do you have to be bestest buds with someone to have them make sure you don't keel over from hypothermia in the near future?" Brett posed, his jawline set. "Because, really, right now - you're not my favourite person either. I'm just not going to fucking let you die just because you have some perverse need to have someone who worships the fucking ground you walk on or some bullshit." And anyway, I'm not the one here who fucking lied. I'm not the bad guy here, bitch.

"I draw the line at 'wants me dead'." Eris said. "And you're being a little extreme here, aren't you? I never said anything about worship, or..." she broke off, reaching up to cover part of her face as a bit of nausea threatened her. Ick. Right. Sick. Arguing didn't help that out a whole lot. So, she got to her point. "You switched it up. You said 'someone' would look after me. Well, the someones around here would probably get some kind of perverse pleasure out of seeing me like this, so...no thank you."

He glared at her. "I'm not fucking stupid, you know. You really think that I'd let the guy who tried to kill you come anywhere near you when you couldn't defend yourself? Or that bitch of a blind girl who'd probably be fucking useless anyway? No. Give me some credit here. But there's another woman here - met her yesterday. And she..." He looked away, his mouth tightening into a thin line before he looked back and reluctantly continued. "She could at least get your pills from upstairs and get you food from the kitchen," he admitted, hating - hating - admitting there was shit he couldn't get done.

"Some woman I don't even know." she said. She sighed, dragging her fingers through her drying hair, pulling it out of where it had been brushed back, so it tumbled down over her shoulders and partially obscured her face. "If you haven't noticed, I have some trust issues, sweetheart." she said dully. And witness you not helping those. But she didn't share the last bit. She shivered again, and started thinking clothes were a really good idea. though, he was also right. Getting back up those stairs would take a while.

Yeah - you and me both, Brett thought to himself. He didn't know what she fucking wanted here, didn't trust that she wasn't still stringing him along, seeing how far he'd go, what he'd give. Which was probably already too much. Fuck it. "Yes, Eris - some woman you don't even know. Some woman without a backstory with you. Without a history. I'm fairly sure she's new in town. I'm fairly sure she's a volunteer. That gives you a clean sheet. And what's the alternative? You can't fucking do this on your own - you've spent the night outside in freezing temperatures, you've got a fever, you can hardly fucking stand, you shouldn't be up right now, because you're body needs warmth and it needs to recover. You're already sick and the longer you stand there arguing over this, the worse you're going to be. You need help and we've already crossed two people off the list and you've refused the doctor. Your options aren't looking good here," he pointed out.

She grit her teeth and stopped listening much at 'eris'. She got the gist, but it was really hard to concentrate when he pulled that shit again. And even if he was right, she wasn't hearing it. "I told you to stop fucking calling me that!" she snapped, her temper snapping with it. There was a harsh edge to her voice on it, and it had nothing to do with the sore throat. It was to do with everything else, and she felt out of wack, like her emotions weren't where they were supposed to be. But then again sometimes she felt like that. It was...what. A symptom. Something. She also didn't realize she'd flung her fist back to pound the wall behind her until she noticed the sting in her hand.

"Why the fuck not?" Brett retorted, the level of his voice rising as her's did, only more so since hers was limited by the fact that she was all croaky. He wasn't, and his voice had a bass depth to it that carried. "It's your fucking name."

"No, it isn't, you stupid son of a bitch." she snapped back, at the volume she had before, and she had to stop for a coughing fit, sliding partially down the wall as she did it, curling up. "I told you my name, which I really fucking regret, because I was honest with you, and the very first second you got you just up and decided that--" she broke off, shaking her head and she glared at him, some of that actual hurt in her eyes, even if she would have loathed it. "I lied to them." she hissed, spelling it out for him. "Eris was never my actual name, it's called a fucking alias. It was something I came up with when I was younger, and went by that for years. You're the only one who even knows any fucking different."

Brett looked away, twitching, uncertain as to whether to believe her on that or not. It didn't make sense - it that was the case, it didn't make sense why she would fucking do that. Unless she'd honestly thought they were going to die that night and just wanted someone to know. That he could buy, he thought, but, yeah. That was the only thing that really made sense. "Yeah?" he asked, eventually, his tone defensive, with a edge of wariness and uncertainty he tried to hide, but failed to.

She wasn't looking at him, more just off into space, some middle distance that wasn't really registering in the first place. She also didn't answer him for a long time. But eventually, she blinked, eyes clearing slightly, even if she didn't refocus on him. "Yes." she answered. "But...whatever. I just--" she started, and didn't even know what she would say, her face pinching up for a moment, before it cleared again. "I didn't figure--" she didn't finish her sentence.

He took from that that he'd been right - that it'd just been about them not surviving. Or possibly he just wanted to believe her. "You need to get to bed," he told her, changing the subject back to what it had been. His tone was still forthright, but the volume and bitchiness was absent now as he backed away from the other topic. He'd deal with it later, himself, when he could be sure he wouldn't have to get into a conversation about how much it had all hurt.

Yes, she did. But she was a little lost in her own mind right then. She curled upon herself a little bit, and didn't answer him. She also didn't move. Getting back to upright would take more effort and concentration than she was willing to give it right this very second. So, while she actually vaguely nodded, she didn't go through with doing anything about that going to bed situation.

Brett sighed quietly and brought a hand to his head, massaging his temples lightly for a moment, before starting forward, going over to her and leaning to grasp her under the arm. "Come on, you can't stay there," he told her, not expressing any of the worry he had about her condition - she could be bad. She should see a doctor. He wasn't going to push that but he had to wonder if there were any other medical people in town - whether there was a subtle way of actually finding that out. He'd give it a go later on. For now, she just needed to be warm.

She made a small sound of protest, but didn't really have the energy to push him away. She turned to look at him though. "Where am I going to go?" she asked, though whether that was a question she wanted an answer to or not, it was unclear. Hell, it was unclear whether she just meant what room she should be headed to, or more on a grand scheme scale. That was more her true intention behind the statement. She was very much at a 'well what now?' stage in her mind. She couldn't leave again, and there wasn't anywhere to go anyhow. She still didn't know what was up with she and Brett, and that whole mess just made her feel achey all over. Or maybe that was the sick talking.

Brett gave her a 'are you kidding' look and wondered whether she was even worse than he'd feared for her brain to be that much mush. "You're going to bed," he reminded her. "So, come on, stand up," he added, tugging her. He really, really didn't want to have to carry her - especially not when it was hard enough already to get this chair to move just with his weight.

She pushed herself to her feet, using his arm rest partially to help herself. She shivered again and tugged the blankets around her shoulders once more, since it had come loose. "You still have to eat something." she said, mind latching onto that. Of course, that could have been because she spotted the cereal bowl again. She leaned back against the wall, letting the moment of nausea that hit her again pass. That really wouldn't help out her day. Throwing up all over herself was just never a good plan.

"I've eaten something," he told her, brushing that off as he started them moving toward the spare room. He didn't mention it was just an energy bar, she didn't need to know that. She just needed to get to bed and he needed to work out how to get her pills from her room. There really didn't seem to be any way to avoid the inevitability that he was going to have to ask someone else to do that for him.

"You didn't eat the cereal." she said, though she was moving where he was leading. It was slow. She'd get up later and get him something else. right now exhaustion was sort of hitting in hard. She blamed the fight. And that was his fault. She winced faintly as the wheels on his chair gave a particularly loud screech. "...your new chair sucks." she added in a nearly childishly petulant tone. "I don't like it."

"Yeah, well, I fixed it yesterday and they replaced it with another piece of shit today," Brett told her, sounding stunningly unimpressed about that. She wasn't the only one who didn't like it - he couldn't believe that he'd have to start all over again with it today.

"Of course they did." Eris muttered, sighing as she did so. "....bastards." Didn't seem fair, really. But then sticking her in this house of all of them didn't seem fair either. Like the situation with Brett wasn't fair. The one time she'd wanted to be honest and stick with that...right she just wasn't thinking about that right now, she'd just tire herself out again. Besides, she'd sort of told him things. What he did with it was up to him. What she did with it was something she'd have to figure out too. She had no idea yet.

Brett didn't answer that, continuing on in silence until they reached the spare room. He pushed open the door, but stopped - the doorway wasn't wide enough for him to go through with her holding onto the arm of his chair, so one of them was going to have to go first.

She looked into the room, and thought that it didn't look any cheerier than her own room did. Was that a hospital chart stuck onto the end of the bedframe? But she'd have two blankets. That was a plus. She got too that the door was way too narrow for the both of them, so she just stepped ahead, holding onto the doorknob for added balance, and she made her way over to the bed where she dropped face first onto it. She just laid there for a few long moments, feeling slightly better just for laying down. Not that the bed was very comfortable, but whatever. She wasn't upright anymore and that was the important part.

Brett watched her fall onto the bed, then backed up and headed into his own room, pulling the blankets off his bed, before returning with them heaped in his lap. He'd worry about what he was going to do tonight later on - and anyway, he figured he still had a sleeping bag in his belongings somewhere. "...Under the blankets is generally considered better for keeping warm," he pointed out to her as he drew alongside the bed.

She made a vague sound that was probably agreement, and she shifted, pushing up on her hands and knees, though that wasn't that easy to do when all you had on was a towel. She tugged the blankets back and crawled beneath them, though, curling on her side, facing him. "...I know you only have like...two, but could I borrow a shirt?" she asked, not at all sure if he would let her or not, but it was better than the towel. And while she didn't really care if Brett saw her naked--he had before, after all--she would feel exposed if anyone else wandered in. Funny how their argument was just...in the dust now. It would probably pop right back up again later but for the moment they were at a cease-fire.

Brett laid the other blankets on top of her, tucking them in down the sides as best he could. Better to keep the air in, quicker to warm up. "Yeah, I'll get you something," he promised. The alternative was adding that to the list of things he'd have to ask someone else for. And Brett hated asking for things.

She let him tuck her in, which was possibly the weirdest feeling she'd had in a long time. For one, she didn't just...get tucked in. It wasn't like she was six years old or anything. and it was also from Brett of all people. And arguments aside, he wasn't really the kind, was he? They did things for each other now and then, but still. He must actually be worried about her. That was the only thing she could think of to explain that. "Thank you." she said, pulling the towel out from beneath the blankets and dropping it onto the floor and half under the bed.

Brett didn't acknowledge the thanks as he turned and went to fetch her his spare t-shirt. She was right, he only had a couple of changes of clothes - that's all he'd taken with them, that was all he had now. He had no idea what had happened to all the rest of his belongings. Possibly they were still back at the other house, the one that apparently he wouldn't be able to get into. "Here," he told her, handing it over. "And I'll find you some water for your pills," he added, turning and leaving again.

Eris pulled the shirt on, then curled back up on her side, into a little ball, thinking she wouldn't sleep. But that proved to be absolutely false as she drifted pretty quickly, and was even out before anything could be figured out with water, or pills or anything. The warmth seeped in, and she was asleep and dead to the world inside ten minutes.