rekindleme | (no subject)

Who: Dick and y'all thar
Where: Shopping district.
When: 04/27, morning
Summary: Dick is two days into stage three withdrawal, and faking health because the show must go on.
Warnings: will update if necessary, but he does have some nausea. I'll avoid it in threads, but he might mention it.

It made him a little angry at himself-- you know, you can do complex trapeze routines after literally having your acrobatic ability taken away, but you can't walk to the mall with a fever without stopping to vomit? Get a grip.

It was the choice -- stay at home sick or walk around sick -- that made him go. He found a small radio and a pair of walkie-talkies for his project, but nothing more useful than that. For all that he was flushed and sweaty and walking at roughly the pace of a sloth with a ball and chain, he was trying to juggle the two walkie-talkies and the radio. Trying to force himself to ignore the dizziness and the queasiness by focusing, focusing on the way the three objects would leave his hands, each in revolution, and it required a lot of concentration, a lot of concentration that would be hard to muster if he wasn't trying to figure out if that dark-haired girl he'd glimpsed at the market before a dizzy spell the other day really was Piper or if M'gann was in withdrawal, too, or if Barbara was or if there wasn't a walkie-talkie falling out of the air because he hadn't used enough force and it just bounced off his skull.

Wow. Okay. That distracted from the queasiness, but he staggered-- it exacerbated the dizziness. He had enough wherewithal to dodge the other walkie-talkie and the radio, but the day he was going to let a little trifling illness bring him to his knees is--

--apparently this one. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and reached for his purchases with a tired sigh. He'd thought about going to visit M'gann, but her stupid little white lies required more tiptoeing than he could really care about, between the fever and the dizziness and the sense of unbalance he'd felt after the first anniversary of his families' deaths he hadn't been able to mark or adequately distract himself from. And, sick or not, he knew what they'd say:

The show must go on, if only back home and straight to bed...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'Hnnngh,' is the most helpful thought he has there for about a minute and a half.

But he rubs his eyes and... this isn't working. As much as he hates to admit it, hearing her mental voice just brings it all home.

'Walking back from the mall,' he thinks back. 'Trying to... trying to figure out how to describe it more... helpfully.'

'I...I think I can get an idea of where you are?' She keeps her eyes fixed out on the streets as she says that. One more breath, and she launches herself off the balcony, half falling and half diving towards the next block or two over. She manages just enough in the way of lift to turn what she's doing into flight, hands also grasping at her cloak as some of the telekinetic gets transferred into that in order to help hold her up.

It's not quite like her old skin, using the folds running between her arms to help learn how to levitate...But it's close enough to help.

And when M'gann gets close enough to see Robin and go for a landing, she still keeps her hands clutched to her cape, treating it like a sort of comfort blanket.

"Found you?" She offers, taking a step closer. This is okay, right? Helping him now? She just has to work one hand free and see about holding it out to him.

Dick's hand reaches out in the direction of her voice. His head stays slumped. Partially out of paranoia, yes, because those brain blasts hurt like a-- but it's mostly the illness. He doesn't believe she'd brain blast him while he was sick like this.

Especially not if she was planning to say it was a brick.

"Five out of ten," he said tiredly, his other hand trying to wipe his brow or check his temp, he can't even remember anymore. "Next time, sprint for the finish line."

"Probably would be better if there isn't a next time." M'gann's voice drops as she moves closer. Her hand stays outstretched, and then with a huge amount of care she rests it on Robin's shoulder.

"...Have you been keeping up with contact?" She regrets asking almost immediately. M'gann herself has only barely been staying on top of it; something a low pain in the back of her head reminds her of. "Just- that explains why you aren't feeling so well."

She'd like to think it isn't all because of her. Maybe. Hopefully.

The fact that he doesn't have a comeback for that, not even pointing out the obvious, is really indicative. When he feels her hand on his shoulder, he covers it with his own-- the more contact the better, right?

"Sorry," he says, and with his brain-to-mouth filter acting up, he adds, "Barbara's got a girlfriend and I couldn't find Piper anywhere."

Anybody else, he'd be uncomfortable asking for help.

"Well...I can help you instead." She sounds a little more confident, saying that. "Kind of the least I can do."

She pauses for a moment, a flicker of concern moving through her face when Piper is brought up. And a similar worried buzz moves through her thoughts, complete with flickers of 'gone?' and a clear sense of unease.

Though she tries to muffle that out, instead pulling him up.

"We should get you back home." Hers or his; either works at this point.

He takes that as his cue to try and stand.

It takes a minute. Knees weak. He's a little shameless about hanging on to her.

"You lead," he says. "You might have to drag me the first few feet."

"Umph! I-I might be able to do better than that, if you give me a minute." It might just be her imagining things, now that they've got some contact going...But she's feeling marginally better. Or at least not like she's sliding any further, into a worse state.

~~Compared to what happened last time.~~

M'gann feels her shoulders knot up, as she tries to stretch out her focus properly. No backlash this time, she promises herself. Of all things, Robin's weight helps her focus, or at least gives her a potent reminder that she can't afford to mess this up.

So when she feels that first surge of levitation, M'gann's thoughts give a quick, elated flicker as she pulls her head up.

"Your place. It's closer." Plus, she already has the shortest route from here to the balcony memorized.

"I need so much more help than you do right now," he began, and very consciously, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "So that's a good choice. Drive on."