Nov 09, 2009 13:30
-- Hey.
[Gilbert's voice, this morning, is breathy and less musical than usual, not to mention distant from the intercom.]
I need someone to help me to the showers.
Don't make any jokes. I'm dirty, and my legs feel - I don't know if I could walk there by myself, anyway. Just send someone to take me down there, and there won't be a problem.
[A long pause, and then the voice reappears, much closer to the speaker, this time.]
Not one of the doctors. Don't want to bother them.
(OOC: Have a Gilbert suffering from post-seizure weakness. His head's more messed up than his body, right now, so don't get confused if there's memory weirdness on the horizon.)
gilbert cocteau