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[ lance could have probably caught him, being the closest, but he hadn't anticipated jj to be able to move quite so quickly, considering his sloth-like demeanor just seconds before. he winces when the other boy crashes to the ground, hesitating just a moment before cautiously stepping forward. maybe if they established more of a rapport, he'd be more willing to get carried... ]

Uh — JJ, right? [ he casts a quick glance towards keith for confirmation. ] We didn't really properly meet — I'm Lance.

[ he holds a hand out towards jj... as both a handshake and you know. a help up, if he wants it. (he kinda needs it.) ]

[ Lance's bedside manner is arguably better than Keith's—not that JJ has much of a leg to stand on, he doesn't make the most reassuring nurse either. All of the good intention from both of the boys would normally have been met with much more enthusiasm: there's nothing that JJ enjoys more than being fussed over, but two weeks of being sick have killed any inclination he might've had to thrive under the attention.

Instead, despite his efforts, he keeps coming across as grumpy, and his attitude doesn't contribute to making the situation any better.

He knows that, so he meets Lance with a smile as he reaches out to take his hand. ]

Hey, nice to meet— you...

[ The last of his sentence is swallowed up by a nice, phlegmy cough, and he's considerate enough to turn away from Lance's extended hand, one hand still on the ground for balance, and the other coming up to rub at his watering eyes, going still when it comes away red. ]

[JJ falls over and Keith watches with worry; like a tree that's about to land on family of quail, but all of his concern lies in the fact that he's gonna maybe crack his skull open rather than murder a whole family with his body. Neither occurs, Lance jumps right in, JJ seems alright...

Keith's gonna step closer to the gryphon's face while they establish a weird connection. He thinks to pat the thing's head for all of its tolerance but he refrains; her beak looks awfully sharp...so he'll just watch in idle fascination as JJ bleeds his sickness out.]

Maybe we should ask it to lie down.

[Might be easier to just shovel JJ on top of her that way.]

The gryphon isn't the problem, [ lance begins to sigh (no offense, jj) but by the time he's twisting back around to refocus on the non-paladin, he's recoiling back in horror and shock. ]

Whoa — dude, are you okay?!

[ no, lance, obviously not, he wasn't even okay before he started bleeding out of his eyes but look... it just seemed like the kind of thing to say, okay.

he's frozen, wanting to lean closer and help the guy, but also kind of wanting to turn around and maybe throw up. he's looking a little green... ]

[ There are a lot of normal guy things that JJ partakes in: pretending that protein shakes are actual meals; vehemently denying ever having had a fedora stage; and pondering how low is too low when touching a girl's back. Bleeding out of his eyes, or anywhere on his face, had never been part of his plan.

Which is why he straight up doesn't even process it, even as the blood colours the rest of his eyes and vision, gathering around his lashes, bright and red as he gives Lance a puzzled look. ]

Yeah, I'm okay. [ Like, in the grand scheme of being not-okay. He's been not-okayer than this before. ] You look kinda... are you sick too?

[ Maybe Keith should help his buddy instead of fussing over the gryphon?? ]

He's fine.

[Without looking. It's his initial response, but once he spares a glance...

Ah. It looks like JJ's been making blood contracts with satan. He'll step back from the gryphon's face, move closer to his two pals. In doing so, his mask materializes -- you know, just in case.]

Switch places with me, try and get it to lie down.

[His voice comes slightly motorized, slightly, in place of being muffled. He still sounds very much like himself. He's more worried about JJ being contagious than whatever state Lance as worked himself up into...lil drama queen.]

[ the sight of that mask brings a sharp frown to lance's lips, which at least distracts him from his previous nausea but it sadly another drama altogether. but jj doesn't need to be witness to a lover's spat right now, he's maybe sort of not really dying. once lance is certain keith will take his place, he gets back up to his feet, scooting over to the ever-patient creature. ]

Hello, sir...

[ uh. how to charm a gryphon......... ]

[ Apparently Keith is a Persona character now, though the sight of the mask materializing over Keith's face and the other man's subsequent march over to JJ don't fill him with much wonder. Instead, his mild concern quickly shifts to a much more concentrated panic. Nothing about this illness is cooperative, not the disgusting symptoms or the way it plays with the mind.

JJ finally gets to his feet—he can't tell if Keith was talking about him or the creature when he said "get it to lie down", but he'd rather be standing right now, as unsteady as he is, fighting vertigo and hands up in a show of peace. ]

What is it?

[ The blood doesn't relent either, forming drops that he wipes away, hands steadily becoming redder and redder. ]

[Don't piss it off Lance......this isn't like trying to charm a lion. It's a bird-lion.

Of all times to not have that crimson handkerchief on hand. In spite of that blood, he was eventually going to help JJ up...but there he goes. Like a big boy.]

Does it hurt?

[Probs shouldn't be answering questions with even vaguer questions. He'll offer a preemptive shoulder, should JJ fall on his ass again. He could explain that he's bleeding from various orifices (and non-orifices too), properly freak him out, cause mayhem.

Or just force himself to be dismissive about the whole thing. A task made easier by his creepy glowy Blade mask.]

You just look sicker compared to last time.

[DOES ANYONE HAVE A HANDKERCHIEF.]

[ nobody has a handkerchief okay it's 2049.

anyway, call lance the gryphon whisperer, because it takes him exactly two minutes to gently coax the creature onto the ground, alternating between soothing pets to its beak and worried glances the other two's way. he opts not to say anything about jj's current condition, thinking... maybe keith's blase handling is the better of the two? surely jj isn't dying... surely............ ]

Um. He's ready whenever you two are.

[ Things are presumably looking up, now that Lance has wrangled the gryphon to lie down, and it would be easy for JJ to climb up now. It's nice, and JJ would be more appreciative of the effort if not for the way that his heartbeat is starting to pick up, Keith's questions and appearance instilling a sense of unease that's ready to rocket toward panic.

But it stays at a simmer for now, head too full of cotton to really dwell on the implications of why Keith would ask if he's hurting—he is, from the regular aches and pains that accompany a flu, but he doubts those are worth bringing up at this very moment. ]

What's with the mask?

[ Maybe not the smartest or most pertinent question, but he just needs to know, and he can only really focus on one thing right now. ]

Is this part of the guard uniform? Are you going to arrest me for being sick?

Thanks, Lance.

[So weird to say that so naturally, without any trace of sarcasm. Even with things established between them...hmph. Character development not quite as pertinent as getting JJ atop his ride, and uh....somehow getting the bleeding to stop? Maybe in reverse order, with any luck. He can only think of one thing that may help some -- it certainly couldn't make things worse.]

--The mask doesn't have anything to do with that.

[He's rifling through one of his pouches.]

No one's arresting anyone.

[It's not like JJ was kneeling during the national anthem or something. Finally, a small unmarked bottle's produced and uncorked. He never truthfully...got to the bottom of how this worked; as a topical applicant or something meant to be ingested. It's an old healing potion from way back when -- there may be an inch or less of it left.]

Drink that, it might help. [He averts his eyes, looking briefly to Lance.] It's -- in case you get nauseous while flying.

[Wait, he's a serious figure skater and probably travels all the time?]

On a gryphon.

[ it doesn't really take a genius to tell that keith's struggling here, but then again, his interpersonal relations had never exactly been his strong suit. kind of silly, then, to expect he'd have decent bedside manners. at least he tries...

but with the gryphon tamed, lance steps up again, affixing jj with an encouraging smile. ]

It'll help, dude, trust me. A sip of that stuff gets me feeling right as rain.

[ except it had been used as an ointment on him before, but he's like 99.9% sure it was originally intended for consumption anyway....

that gives him an idea, though, turning to his and keith's discarded duffel bag. from there he withdraws a single black t-shirt (could be keith's, could be lance's guard uniform, hard to say) but this he holds out towards jj, tentatively approaching. ]

We forgot to pack some towels, but this should work just fine. In case you wanna, uh, dry yourself off.

[

... ]

[ It's a little uncertain for a second, because they're calming, and it feels like their help is genuine, but there's something in him that just wants to panic; a part of him that just wants to live up to the manchild reputation and throw a fit, because he's tired and aching, etc. etc.

But honestly, that seems like a lot of work, and there's a larger part that's defeated. Anger takes a lot more energy than he's will to expend right now, so he just smiles gratefully, though the expression doesn't really soften his ghastly appearance, and he takes both the offered bottle and shirt. ]

Thanks. I'm feeling better, actually.

[ As in, he's got the warm fuzzies from all the friendship floating around them, and it's overpowering the dread that would normally settle in his stomach.

He lifts the shirt to his face without really thinking about it, rubbing it over his cheeks where the blood is drying, and his nose where more is starting to trickle out. With the calm however, comes a bit of unwanted clarity: the slow realization of what exactly is happening, the red blurring over his vision, and the sudden, warm tang of blood in his mouth.

It's a good effort from Keith and Lance, but those warm fuzzies rapidly turn sour as JJ drops to his knees to throw up the contents of his stomach. ]

[Isn't that his shirt? Didn't Lance only pack necessary items? He quells a pending outburst; it's fine. JJ needs it more than he does. He's dying, Squirtle.

You don't look better -- another thing he's internalizing. His brows arch high on his forehead, he spares a glance at Lance, devoid of anger...all of it replaced with skepticism. By the time he's got his sights set on JJ, he's doubling over, blood-puking?! It can't all be blood, it's not-? He's cross between jumping back and hunching over him like Owen Grady in Jurassic World trying to keep the raptors at bay -- the raptors being Lance, because he hasn't a mask covering his face...where's your dang visor son.

He's 100% bad at this, frozen like so, arms extended. It's...a good thing that he's puking, right? Getting rid of bad stuff...or, wait, that was only true for him the last time he puked and isn't universal law.

Um.]

[ sans visor, lance has only his hand to slap over his mouth. but unlike keith's concerns, his is rooted more in his own worry that he might soon follow suit... not because he'll get sick. but because he'll get sick. heh.

once he's certain he won't be blowing chunks all over keith as soon as he opens his mouth, he cautiously shifts past him to check on the other boy. ]

Hey... Tell us what you need, man. [ soft. sympathetic. caring. ]

Keith'll get it for you.

[ a regular florence nightingale. ]

( closed? )

geezus jenn

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