BD9
Disclaimers: me, money? Hah!
Author's notes: Sorry for the hiatus, first there was Coronation, and then my hard drive was fragged. It took everything I had been working on down with it. This is an interlude to tide you all over while I try and recover what I can.
Ian was hanging on to the cold porcelain of the toilet, his burning head resting on the blissfully cool surface. He was terribly embarrassed by his inability to drink like the others; the scorching humiliation was almost as strong as the fire in his gut. He was sure they were at the bar laughing at him while he lay here dying. He was vaguely aware of the door to the bathroom opening and closing as men filed in and out. He didn't even glance up to see them, to check for possible threats. He really didn't care if someone walked in and shot him in the back of the head while he slumped defenseless in the stall. In fact, he was rather hoping someone would.
The door banged open again, just another background noise. Ian was wishing the buzzing would go away that had begun to fill his ears. It was very annoying. At least the light in the room was getting dimmer. It had been painfully bright when he had come in. From far away he could hear Nicolli talking. He tried to focus, but the darkness sucked him mercifully under.
"Man, I think he's out cold." Nicolli said in concern.
"We shouldn't have encouraged him to drink all that tequila, it would have dropped an even more experienced drinker, much less someone who's never had it in his life." Taurins sighed, feeling guilty. He knew that Nottingham was going to have a hellacious hangover in the morning.
Nicolli and Taurins reached down and pulled him out of the stall. They propped him up by the sink and tried using cold water to revive Nottingham. When that didn't work, Nicolli tried the pressing on the nerve behind the jaw, then the sternum notch; an old paramedic trick that was used mostly to roust career drunks. When neither brought Nottingham back to consciousness, they looked at each other over his head.
"This is not a good sign. I think he may have alcohol poisoning. Go get the doctor." Nicolli said resignedly.
"One physician, coming up." Taurins turned for the door then stopped. "You want to try and get him out of here first, or should I bring her in here?"
"If he gets sick again, it would be better if he were in here. I'm sure Doc has seen men piss before. It's part of her job description in all probability." Nicolli shrugged. He had training as a field medic, and knew you lost any squeamishness about bodily fluids pretty early on, or you dropped medicine.
"True enough. I will bring her in here." So saying, Taurins headed back out into the crowd. He made it to the bar slower than he wanted to, but any faster and people would have wondered what was going on. Somehow he knew that Nottingham would want as few witnesses to his humiliation as possible.
"So, how's Nottingham doing?" Moira asked in concern as soon as Taurins drew even with her.
"Not so good Doc. Nicolli thinks he's got alcohol poisoning. He sent me to get you. They are still in the bathroom, Nottingham is unconscious and won't wake up no matter what tricks Nicolli tries." He leaned down to tell it to her quietly. The only other Black Dragon close enough to hear it was Mobius, but he had not laughed at Nottingham, so Taurins didn't worry about him overhearing.
Moira went straight into doctor mode, without passing go or collecting two hundred dollars. She moved at a brisk pace toward the men's restroom. Alcohol poisoning was not something to fool around with. She needed to get Nottingham back on base and start pumping him full of saline to flush his system and rehydrate him. She opened the door to the men's room with Taurins and Mobius on her heels. She didn't spare a glance for anything but her patient. He was out cold still, propped up by Nicolli, who was currently checking his pulse. Nottingham's color was off, and he was sweating. She cursed male bravado under her breath and moved forward to check his heart rate for herself. Moira found it thready and uneven, his breathing was shallow. "Ok, lets get him in my car. He's done partying for tonight. So am I, it would seem. I will take him back to the lab and get him back to normal. You all owe me for this."
"Understood Doc." Mobius said with a short nod, then he slipped one of Nottingham's arms over his.
He and Nicolli half dragged, half carried, Notttingham out of the bar and to Moira's car. They settled him in the passenger seat and strapped him in. Before closing the door, Moira rolled the passenger window down. The air would feel good to him. Hopefully, if he had to be sick again, he'd do it out the open window instead of in her car.
Disclaimers: me, money? Hah!
Author's notes: Sorry for the hiatus, first there was Coronation, and then my hard drive was fragged. It took everything I had been working on down with it. This is an interlude to tide you all over while I try and recover what I can.
Ian was hanging on to the cold porcelain of the toilet, his burning head resting on the blissfully cool surface. He was terribly embarrassed by his inability to drink like the others; the scorching humiliation was almost as strong as the fire in his gut. He was sure they were at the bar laughing at him while he lay here dying. He was vaguely aware of the door to the bathroom opening and closing as men filed in and out. He didn't even glance up to see them, to check for possible threats. He really didn't care if someone walked in and shot him in the back of the head while he slumped defenseless in the stall. In fact, he was rather hoping someone would.
The door banged open again, just another background noise. Ian was wishing the buzzing would go away that had begun to fill his ears. It was very annoying. At least the light in the room was getting dimmer. It had been painfully bright when he had come in. From far away he could hear Nicolli talking. He tried to focus, but the darkness sucked him mercifully under.
"Man, I think he's out cold." Nicolli said in concern.
"We shouldn't have encouraged him to drink all that tequila, it would have dropped an even more experienced drinker, much less someone who's never had it in his life." Taurins sighed, feeling guilty. He knew that Nottingham was going to have a hellacious hangover in the morning.
Nicolli and Taurins reached down and pulled him out of the stall. They propped him up by the sink and tried using cold water to revive Nottingham. When that didn't work, Nicolli tried the pressing on the nerve behind the jaw, then the sternum notch; an old paramedic trick that was used mostly to roust career drunks. When neither brought Nottingham back to consciousness, they looked at each other over his head.
"This is not a good sign. I think he may have alcohol poisoning. Go get the doctor." Nicolli said resignedly.
"One physician, coming up." Taurins turned for the door then stopped. "You want to try and get him out of here first, or should I bring her in here?"
"If he gets sick again, it would be better if he were in here. I'm sure Doc has seen men piss before. It's part of her job description in all probability." Nicolli shrugged. He had training as a field medic, and knew you lost any squeamishness about bodily fluids pretty early on, or you dropped medicine.
"True enough. I will bring her in here." So saying, Taurins headed back out into the crowd. He made it to the bar slower than he wanted to, but any faster and people would have wondered what was going on. Somehow he knew that Nottingham would want as few witnesses to his humiliation as possible.
"So, how's Nottingham doing?" Moira asked in concern as soon as Taurins drew even with her.
"Not so good Doc. Nicolli thinks he's got alcohol poisoning. He sent me to get you. They are still in the bathroom, Nottingham is unconscious and won't wake up no matter what tricks Nicolli tries." He leaned down to tell it to her quietly. The only other Black Dragon close enough to hear it was Mobius, but he had not laughed at Nottingham, so Taurins didn't worry about him overhearing.
Moira went straight into doctor mode, without passing go or collecting two hundred dollars. She moved at a brisk pace toward the men's restroom. Alcohol poisoning was not something to fool around with. She needed to get Nottingham back on base and start pumping him full of saline to flush his system and rehydrate him. She opened the door to the men's room with Taurins and Mobius on her heels. She didn't spare a glance for anything but her patient. He was out cold still, propped up by Nicolli, who was currently checking his pulse. Nottingham's color was off, and he was sweating. She cursed male bravado under her breath and moved forward to check his heart rate for herself. Moira found it thready and uneven, his breathing was shallow. "Ok, lets get him in my car. He's done partying for tonight. So am I, it would seem. I will take him back to the lab and get him back to normal. You all owe me for this."
"Understood Doc." Mobius said with a short nod, then he slipped one of Nottingham's arms over his.
He and Nicolli half dragged, half carried, Notttingham out of the bar and to Moira's car. They settled him in the passenger seat and strapped him in. Before closing the door, Moira rolled the passenger window down. The air would feel good to him. Hopefully, if he had to be sick again, he'd do it out the open window instead of in her car.
