A/N: This silly thing formed after Shawnee talked about what Amanda eats on the Saw III commentary track. As if Amanda didn't have enough issues. And yes, Jill is just fucking with her, as she could take pills or eat any number of normal foods to fix the problem. Amanda, John, Jill, and Hoffman aren't mine. (Still only one review but people are reading. Please review? Please please please please please?)
The Breakfast Table - Survival Of The Fittest - Midnight Snack
Amanda always been jittery, and high-strung, it was why she'd been a junkie for downers. But the last few weeks, her eyes were looking bloody no matter how much sleep she got, and a few times one of them had walked into the warehouse to find her flat on her face on the floor. "This is the only comfortable spot," she said, muffled by the concrete, and then waved them away.
She swore she wasn't using and there weren't any tracks or cuts. But John saw her sat in front of the blank monitors late one night, running her hands through her hair so that large clumps of hair came loose.
"What in the world are you eating?"
She held up her box of sugar-covered cheerios. Her fingers were powdered with the stuff. Littered on the desk were the detritus of her bleeding roast beef strips, processed cheese, chocolate wrappers, and energy drinks.
He hadn't paid much attention to what she ate; food was not foremost on either of their minds, but he at least remembered the proper times it should be done. His years with Jill had him in the habit of keeping full bowls of vegetables near his work surfaces, so he could eat without thinking and with one hand.
"You eat like an adolescent."
"Always in season," her smile seemed rather weak and unfocused, and he noticed something that made him lean in suddenly and take her by the chin.
"Open your mouth." startled, she obeyed, he pressed down her lip and saw small trickles of blood between her teeth, "Did you hit yourself?" she shook her head. He narrowed his eyes at her deconstructed pantry. Cheese, raw red meat, sugar, caffeine. Now that he thought about it...
John let out a long sigh.
"Stay there. And don't move."
An hour later, she was wincing at every touch as Jill moved her hands over her legs.
"Describe it, please."
"Like they're gonna explode," she said through gritted teeth. Jill looked at her eyes, in her mouth, in her loose hair. As she stood, she pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Didn't your mama ever tell you to eat your oranges?"
Amanda's eyes narrowed in confusion
"It's... well, it's... scurvy. Amanda,"
A long silence.
"So basically... I'm a pirate."
"Basically, you're getting no vitamin C. And not being a plant, you don't grow it yourself. And if you don't stop eating crap and don't metamorphosize into a plant, your teeth will fall out."
"Does that make you the pirate queen?"
"You need citrus. They used to call sailors 'lime juicers,' it's how captains prevented scurvy in the first place."
She stopped short, "Lime juice?"
"I would advise," said Jill dryly, "At least eight ounces." She had thoughtfully brought along her own, and she poured it, Amanda's mouth puckered and went dry, and put it in front of her. Her lip twitched. Amanda looked around desperately.
"It's usually best if you just agree with her," said John, facing the wall, "It saves a lot of headache, and the same conclusion is reached."
"You're not gonna make me drink this?"
"Let me explain this condition more clearly. You have a disease that has not been widely reported since the Spanish-American war, that bursts capillaries, causes bleeding from mucous membranes, and destroys the body's ability to heal from injury, as well as inducing paralysis. This condition was last common and inevitable approximately two and a half centuries ago in the rat-infested brigs of packet ships and I, personally, would wish you a much more memorable end than rotting from the teeth inward as the result of overindulgence of frosted flakes and cheese whiz. So yes, Amanda, I am going to make you drink the goddamned juice, and I think it would be advisable if you were to obey every instruction Jill may give you until your hair is no longer falling off your head at whim or and you no longer have irrepressible urges to lie facedown on concrete floors to prevent your blood vessels from imploding."
Amanda pulled a face, held her nose, and drank it down in one.
"I reserve the right to bring up this day every hour like a goddamn egg timer for the rest of the year."
"Shut the hell up, Detective. Didn't you hear? I'm a motherfuckin pirate."