martian, oh he's after us

[perform_admirably]

By the time that Jim manages the both of them into the hospital and straight past the complaining triage nurse, it is, almost undoubtedly, a good thing that Spock is leaning more than a little of his weight on Jim's shoulder, feeling unsteady in the knees, with twitching and cramping in his toes. The cab-ride there had not been long, but long enough for Spock's fever to rise. Enough to tip the scales on an already unbalanced mind.

He barely has the prescience to ask for the man he's come to see - the only man in Darrow General he will allow to see him, whom he trusts for good reason. That, he manages. That, and little else.

The past three minutes have been a hazy string of arguments, one-sided, between Spock and Jim, and Spock and random passersby, such that it may even have been ideal for Jim to have stunned Spock. Except that Spock is still the best account of what might be wrong with Spock. The words he's managed in Standard since being half-dragged through the sliding glass doors are few and far between.

Ripping away from Jim's arms, he grabs a passing male nurse by a shirtful of his scrubs, pulling him near with anxious, fearful eyes.

"Tsi-veh OChase re? Re?" He gives the man a small shake. "Doctor Chase re?"

Comments

[to_boldly]

"He's busy elsewhere right now," Jim tells him, brushing a soothing hand against Spock's knee. Squeezing, he tells Chase, "It started right after he ate lunch, he brought it himself from home. I've asked him a few times but he can't remember what was in it. His confusion's getting worse and worse, and he's never hot like this. His resting temperature is usually around 90 degrees."

Looking both ways down the hall, Jim leans in, "Do I need to tell you his blood's gonna come out green, because that is not a situation we need widely known." There's no point in healing Spock, after all, if he's going to be carried away by xeno-hungry scientists right after.

[theorized]

"I'm already familiar with what his vitals are when stable and with, yes, the color of his blood," Chase informs Jim with a quick look, keeping his voice adequately lowered to prevent anyone from overhearing. "Trust me when I say that I have that amount under control and know exactly what to do to keep this contained."

He abruptly stops speaking when Spock's body gives a small jolt, diaphragm seizing in a hiccup.

"If it started right after he ate lunch, then I need you to go retrieve whatever you can of his lunch. Remains, searching through his refrigerator, anything that might give a hint as to what he ate. It's a whole lot better than running through an entire list of fruits and vegetables to try and think of a likely allergy, though I'll do whatever I can to manage the symptoms."