simon_doctor | (no subject)

(no subject)

Visits are nice, when you're convalescing.

Even if they can only happen over a vidscreen.

"Yeah, I'm going to have to disagree. That's like sayin' I aim to get shot at 'cause it helps in my business affairs."

Simon's eyebrows rise a fraction of an inch.

Very mildly: "You mean you don't?"

"Bein' sick didn't make you any funnier, did it?"

After a second: "Doc -- what should I look for in the way o' hygienics at a tattoo shop?"

"...Well, you want to make sure the instruments are clean and sterile, and ... is this a practical question or theoretical?"

"Practical. Inara and I have been left unsupervised."

"...Kaylee and I really do need to get home soon, don't we."

"We may be beyond help, Doc. It's very sad."

"I would hope --"

The cough ambushes him in mid-word, and he waves a hand at the screen for a moment in apology, unable to speak through it yet.

"Simon -- "

Half Don't make me come over there and half Don't worry, I'm coming over.

"It's all right," he finally manages, thickly, reaching for a tissue again and wiping his mouth. "I'm all right. Really."

Another clean tissue, carefully folded around the soiled one.

Mal's expression is grounded firmly in I don't believe you.

"I think you were about to chastise me for willingly being wounded some point in the future," he leads.

"I think I may have been about to give up on that, in fact."

He's leaning back against the pillows as he speaks, and his smile is genuine but tired.

"You look about ready to give up on bein' conscious for the night," Mal notes. "I'll let you get some sleep, Doc."

A beat of looking downward, "Don't do anythin' too...stressful."

"I'll try not to. Xiexie, Mal."

He's asleep within a few seconds of touching the disconnect.

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