Unfortunately, food had stopped being appealing to the Scarecrow some time around lunch, as well. His nurse frowned as they reached his room and she handed him his tray.
"You don't look like you're doing much better, Mr. Howard," she observed, her voice sweet as could be. Her tone wasn't the least bit patronizing- not that the Scarecrow would have been likely to pick up on such nuances even if he had been in perfect health.
"I don't feel much better, honestly," he admitted in return. Despite the pills Sangamon had given him, his insides felt worse than ever, hands still shaking on occasion, sweat dotting his forehead. He wiped at it for the umpteenth time that day, trying to figure out exactly what it was. With his unfamiliarity with his new form, it was always hard to tell what was a symptom of the infection and what was simply a normal process of the human body.
She smiled sadly at him. "I know it was hard to lose Mr. Price, but he's doing so much better now. You keep your chin up, and I'm positive you'll get there, too."
He returned the smile, wishing he could believe her words. He might have at one point, in his earlier days at Landel's. It was unfortunate he knew better now. Still, he gave her a nod and headed into his room.
He eyed the tray of food already on his desk a second before setting the one in his hands to join it. After that, he offered Skulduggery the same smile, trying to be optimistic. His body would right itself in time, or so he was told- until then, he was stuck feeling like he was full of rocks and bugs, his stomach seemingly trying to turn itself inside out. "Did you not want this, Skulduggery?" he asked as he slumped into his seat, his limbs feeling heavier than ever. "I'm not sure I can eat mine. Or that I ought to."
Re: M42
"You don't look like you're doing much better, Mr. Howard," she observed, her voice sweet as could be. Her tone wasn't the least bit patronizing- not that the Scarecrow would have been likely to pick up on such nuances even if he had been in perfect health.
"I don't feel much better, honestly," he admitted in return. Despite the pills Sangamon had given him, his insides felt worse than ever, hands still shaking on occasion, sweat dotting his forehead. He wiped at it for the umpteenth time that day, trying to figure out exactly what it was. With his unfamiliarity with his new form, it was always hard to tell what was a symptom of the infection and what was simply a normal process of the human body.
She smiled sadly at him. "I know it was hard to lose Mr. Price, but he's doing so much better now. You keep your chin up, and I'm positive you'll get there, too."
He returned the smile, wishing he could believe her words. He might have at one point, in his earlier days at Landel's. It was unfortunate he knew better now. Still, he gave her a nod and headed into his room.
He eyed the tray of food already on his desk a second before setting the one in his hands to join it. After that, he offered Skulduggery the same smile, trying to be optimistic. His body would right itself in time, or so he was told- until then, he was stuck feeling like he was full of rocks and bugs, his stomach seemingly trying to turn itself inside out. "Did you not want this, Skulduggery?" he asked as he slumped into his seat, his limbs feeling heavier than ever. "I'm not sure I can eat mine. Or that I ought to."