ellipsanet | un: Eve 🔪; video

You probably shouldn't be. If your heart's acting up, or something...

[ she hadn't caught any off-rhythms, but... what the fuck else could be going on? nothing she can tell without a proper examination, that's for fucking sure. ]

New is— okay. Okay. [ then, bitterly: ] ...If I asked you to come to the clinic with me, would you go?

[ Eve's pretty sure she knows the answer. ]

It will get better with time, I've been assured-- [Yikes. Wylan closes his mouth perhaps a moment too late. He clearly knows what's going on, what's causing this, and has done nothing to improve the situation, fainting and all.]

No, I don't wish to go to the clinic. I have work to do.

[That and he already knows what's caused this and what he thinks is the right avenue to move forward.]

[ she stares at him for a long moment after the admission, ruff slowly starting to bristle—

then she abruptly deflates. ]

Fine.

[ —is all Eve says, before reaching into the satchel slung around her first set of shoulders and pulling her phone out, which she drops to the floor. as she makes direct eye contact with Wylan, she says: ]

Phone? Enter speaker mode and call Wash.

[ ...that sure is the sound of a phone dialing. ]

[Wylan watches Eve carefully, unsure of what's about to happen. However as soon as she mentions Wash, he starts to wriggle and fight underneath her paw. Sure, it starts to stir up the pain again-- fighting his friends, that doesn't seem like it will make him strong--, but Wylan ignores it for the immediate need of keeping Wash away.]

Don't call him!

[Wait. That doesn't seem right. Wash is his dad. Wash cares for him no matter what. Why would Wylan want him gone?

No matter, Wylan struggles best as he can to escape.]

...phone. Pause call.

[ Eve nudges the phone out of reach, just to be safe, and then steps forward so she's standing in a loop over Wylan— one segment over his chest, one over his legs. she doesn't lie down on him—she'd squash him flat if she did that—but she does crouch down to keep him from getting anywhere. ]

I'm giving you a choice. Either you tell him within the next 24 hours whatever the fuck is going on, or I'm going to him.

[If that isn’t a rock and a hard place if Wylan ever knew one. He can’t tell Wash, that much is clear. However, if given 24 hours, Wylan could shore up his locks and defenses, or even try to take up residence at the Research Center if Relius allows him.

The choice is clear.]

I’ll tell him. [If Eve can sniff out a lie, though, he is absolutely screwed.]

[ bad news for Wylan: Eve risks another tongueflick in the face of the noxious smell from the chemicals, and— ah. ah ha ha. she could put down that adrenaline spike to being faced with a hard decision, or the fact that he's in pain, but—

somehow, she fucking doubts it. besides, she knows what resignation smells like. there's none of that there. ]

So you're going to lie to my fucking face, too? Fuck you, Wylan.

[ ...a very small part of her thinks she should fucking settle down. something is wrong here; she's pretty sure this is out of character for him. but— she's also more than a little hurt, and she's never been great at reining in her temper even when she wasn't feeling slighted.

which is why she turns away from him entirely. his turn to get ignored as she reaches out and hits the button to resume the call. ]

[Wylan tries to turn over onto his stomach and crawl away from Eve when she realizes he's lied to her. It's sounding a whole lot like that 24 hour window has been stripped away, so he needs to make a call of his own and a quick escape with as many components as he can manage to carry without exploding himself.]

[ for fuck's sake— no you fucking don't, Wylan. Eve whips around to grab the back of his shirt in her mouth, outright growling now. muffled: ]

I will fucking lie down on you, do you want to find out just how much I weight—

*Click*

Eve, what's up? [His voice is flatter than normal. This is Business Mode Wash.] I'm kind of busy at the moment.

[ STILL KIND OF MUFFLED ]

Shit, sorry— Wylan's having health issues and being shifty as fuck about it, I didn't know who else to call—

[ fuck, is she going to have to drag him home herself? she probably can, but what a fucking mess— ]

[Yeah will probably continue to be muffled because Wylan is continuing to squirm wildly in Eve's mouth. Is he trying to shed his sweater? Yes, maybe, probably.]

[There is a pause.]

[There is a grunt on the other end of the line that definitely isn't Wash.]

Quiet. You might be free to go after all. Eve, is that Wylan with you?

Ye— fuck.

[ please hold as she lets go of Wylan's collar, only to grab him roughly and wrap him up the way a boa constrictor might— though a boa constrictor does not have grabby paw-talons capable of adding to its grip. try escaping now, you wiggly fuck.

more clearly: ]

Yes. I can send you the address?

[Just as Wylan thinks he might have a chance to run when his feet hit the floor, Eve wraps around him and grips him tight. His sensitive chest sends echoes of the earlier pain rocketing through him. He can't help the quiet hiss of pain.

And still he tries, and very much fails, to wiggle in this new, much tighter grasp.]

Yes, send me the address.

[Further from his phone, voice low and menacing.] You try extorting worried people for money again, I will be back, and I'll be a lot less nice. [Then the sound of someone being allowed to fall to the floor, coughing as Wash moves away.]

He's being wiggly again, isn't he?

Okay, hold on—

[ Wash can hear her snap a quick set of orders to her phone; a moment later a map screenshot with her current location marked pops up via text, as well as a screenshot of the photo Wylan had sent her of his apartment number. ]

Yeah. ...He really didn't want you to know about this. I've got him wrapped up, but I don't want to hold on too long; his chest hurts.

[Yeah, the longer he's constricted the more his chest pain grows.]

I'm fine.

[He tries to say convincingly, like he isn't in desperate need of a medical assessment.]

I'm about five minutes out.

...the plate should do. Make that a minute out, I'll teleport.

Okay. Thanks, Wash.

[ and then fiercely, to Wylan, as she tries to rearrange herself so she can keep his arms pinned to his sides without putting pressure on the front of his chest: ]

I can literally smell when you're in pain. And when you're lying. So knock it the fuck off, we're taking care of you whether you like it or not.

I don't-- need-- [Oh it's getting worse. He can feel his pulse picking up as well.]

I'm. Stronger. I don't need-- I don't--

[Wylan tugs at his sweater, trying to find relief before the inevitable. Eve can likely smell it before it happens. Wylan goes from tensioned, wiggly worm to loosey goosey, passed out noodle in a matter of seconds.]

[Wash is focusing on switching his pendant, heading that way anyway. What is Wylan doing! Why was he hiding he was at the apartments?!]

—fuck.

[ Eve stares at him for a moment, torn— but as unfortunate as it is, this is a good opportunity. she lets go and shifts back to her bipedal form, hurriedly stripping her cardigan off as she goes. in case Wash is still listening: ]

He just passed out. Second time; as far as I can tell it's just from stress, not heart fuckery or anything. I'm tying him up so I don't have to keep putting pressure on him.

[ sorry if that doesn't help the focusing, Wash. anyway, she's using her cardigan to tie Wylan's hands behind his back and then sitting on his legs; she can keep a grip on the knot from there. ]

[This time, Wylan takes longer to wake up. His heart takes longer to slow down, to give his slowed breathing a chance to catch up and circulate enough oxygen for him to stir back to life. So, for now he's still out as Eve wraps him up and sits on his legs.]

[Wash would have a lot more dead friends if that was enough to break his focus. Multitasking for focusing is where he's best at.]

[He's actually faster to switch than most, so it doesn't even really take him a minute.]

Heart fuckery? What's going on with his heart?

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