Not better, not worse: as he made his way to the showers and slipped out of his clothes, L felt as under the weather as he had when he woke up. Everything required more effort than seemed possible.
He'd requested a few paracetamol from a nurse after lunch, but the blank look she'd given him had prompted him to alter his request into one for acetaminophen, with more fruitful results. He wondered why he hadn't used the right word to begin with. There was no indication that this was America as he knew it, but statements that Landel had made during the days of his exile led L to think that he might be trapped--in a fantastical, unbelievable way--in an iteration of it. The accents seemed right, but the way language could be manipulated in the Institute... in Doyleton, too... made it hard to say. Still, on a better day, he would have remembered to try the American term before the one that was more natural to him.
The shower itself felt good: the water was warm enough to soothe some of the ache without being so hot that it exacerbated the slightly overheated feeling that came with a low-grade fever. Overall, even though he kept it short, he was more comfortable when he finished than he had been when he stepped under the stream.
He credited the improvement to the shower, in part, but also to the medication, which seemed to have gone to work. The dosage he'd taken usually lasted about four hours, so he'd ask for a second dose at dinner, which would set him up for the night. If the nurse wouldn't give it to him, he could dose himself; he had looted plenty of the same substance from one of the storage rooms upstairs, just after he and Lunge had encountered the Sphinx. Taking any medication at Landel's required him to suppress his skepticism at varying levels, though. He ate the food that they gave him because he had to, and because ill effects had been minimal to this point; likewise, he didn't think that a daytime nurse would give him any medication more questionable than a placebo. But pills that he had found packed away upstairs, at night... his confidence that they were what they were supposed to be, and not something potentially harmful, wasn't as strong.
no subject
He'd requested a few paracetamol from a nurse after lunch, but the blank look she'd given him had prompted him to alter his request into one for acetaminophen, with more fruitful results. He wondered why he hadn't used the right word to begin with. There was no indication that this was America as he knew it, but statements that Landel had made during the days of his exile led L to think that he might be trapped--in a fantastical, unbelievable way--in an iteration of it. The accents seemed right, but the way language could be manipulated in the Institute... in Doyleton, too... made it hard to say. Still, on a better day, he would have remembered to try the American term before the one that was more natural to him.
The shower itself felt good: the water was warm enough to soothe some of the ache without being so hot that it exacerbated the slightly overheated feeling that came with a low-grade fever. Overall, even though he kept it short, he was more comfortable when he finished than he had been when he stepped under the stream.
He credited the improvement to the shower, in part, but also to the medication, which seemed to have gone to work. The dosage he'd taken usually lasted about four hours, so he'd ask for a second dose at dinner, which would set him up for the night. If the nurse wouldn't give it to him, he could dose himself; he had looted plenty of the same substance from one of the storage rooms upstairs, just after he and Lunge had encountered the Sphinx. Taking any medication at Landel's required him to suppress his skepticism at varying levels, though. He ate the food that they gave him because he had to, and because ill effects had been minimal to this point; likewise, he didn't think that a daytime nurse would give him any medication more questionable than a placebo. But pills that he had found packed away upstairs, at night... his confidence that they were what they were supposed to be, and not something potentially harmful, wasn't as strong.
[To the Sun Room.]