Troop Morale IV—Bedside Manner
Valence read the thermometer, her eyes narrowing. She folded her legs in her seat in front of Caesar. "You're running a fever. Do you have a headache?" Her trademark frown adorned her face like a mask.
Caesar himself didn't look pleased either, his cheek in his chin, reminding Valence of a child who didn't get his way. "Yes. But it isn't as bad as before." The answer pleased her. She had been called in here by Lucius, who had noticed there was something wrong with their leader. The man was an excellent bodyguard, she thought, and had caught the beginning of something that could have been bad if left unnoticed.
"You have Mojave Flu—fever, headaches, fatigue, but no cough or sore throat or runny nose. DefinitelyMojave Flu. You need to get to bed; drink lots of water but keep under covers, keep yourself awake for a bit longer before going to sleep. And absolutely no contact with anything that could be irradiated. Mojave Flu makes you very susceptible to radiation poisoning." She listed off instructions, keeping count on her fingers. "Also, you might want to leave Lucius in charge for at least today. You're overworking yourself."
Caesar snorted. "You try commanding an entire Legion."
Valence raised an eyebrow. "No thank you, my lord. I'll leave that job in more capable hands. But for now, please go to bed, but stay awake for at least another two hours. Read a book or something." She suggested, placing the thermometer back into her doctors bag. She stood up and so did he, turning to head to his bed.
"There isn't a single book in this camp that I haven't read twice…" He grumbled.
He was probably only talking to himself, but Valence heard him clear as day. She bit her bottom lip, the gears in her head turning faster than ever. "I'll be back later." She said quickly, before exiting the tent.
Caesar watched her go, not even three steps away by the time she was gone. "She's up to something." Lucius pointed out helpfully. Caesar shrugged.
"Hey, I'm not going to complain if she disappears for two hours and comes back with more cookies. In fact, I might have to give her another promotion…"
Vulpes was just about to leave when she came running in.
There was no greeting, no acknowledgement that he was even there. While he could tolerate the perpetrator he couldn't ignore the action. He took the pillow from her bed and chucked it hard at her head. It connected—and it probably hurt more than he'd thought it would, because Valence cursed, turned around from where she was digging through the piles of odds and ends she kept stashed in her corner of the tent and gave him an appropriate scowl.
"What?" She bit out, throwing the pillow back at him. He caught it and placed it in its original position.
"You're in an excellent mood today, Valence." He answered curtly, hefting the travel pack on the floor onto his back. She seemed to calm down slightly, and she frowned deeper.
"Sorry. I'm feeling rushed. Lord Caesar has Mojave Flu, and I need to bring him books so that he has something to do whilst incapacitated. He has read every book in the camp twice, he says—all but mine. I have classics, originals, stuff that nobody ever thinks to keep around here because they aren't in Latin." She sifted through the large stacks of books.
Vulpes smirked. "He never asked you for any books, did he?" When he didn't receive an answer he knew it.
Valence was about to get herself into something again.
There wasn't really anything that could be done to stop her. "Try not to cause too much trouble while I'm gone."
"Where are you going?"
"Nowhere important." So apparently it was official Frumentarii business and not up for conversation.
Valence nodded her understanding, starting to set certain books aside. They were all good titles, not all of them books for older readers but still good none the less. She never judged books as harshly as she judged holotapes, partly because there was something to be said about portraying an idea strictly on paper with words.
"Lord Caesar probably expects that you'll bring him more cookies." Vulpes said, and the gears in Valence's head started turning once more.
"Yes. I should bring him something to eat. It would do well to give him carbohydrates, even if they're only simple sugars…" He had to give the woman credit—she managed to find a way to combine her civic duties with her medical abilities and knowledge of baked goods. An interesting skill set; certainly not one that anyone in the camp could ever really complain about.
"You enjoy that. I'm going to take care of my business. Vale."
"Alright. Travel safe. Vale." Vulpes left without another word.
Their new tent had been a godsend for her. Aside from the corner of collected items she had, there was room to cook in the middle. Being out on the road by herself for so long without access to food or medicine or even campfires had given her a new opinion of hot plates. They looked rather useless to her at the start of her journey, but soon enough they became necessary for heating water, combining chemicals, even cooking.
Yeast, flour, brahmin milk, deathclaw egg, sugar. That was a strict recipe she followed when making sweetrolls, and she mixed the ingredients together in a small bowl while the four hotplates she owned heated up. It wasn't difficult to bake on these things, it only required some creativity. If the heat didn't distribute itself anywhere but the bottom of the batter it would turn into a pancake, and that wasn't what she wanted. She put a large glob onto each plate, and proceeded to cover them with wide-rimmed beakers that she usually used for heating water. With the hot air trapped around them, they would be forced to cook properly.
She frowned at the fact that she had neither the time nor utilities to make a dozen sweetrolls for Caesar, especially while he was sick, but at least this was something. She went back to picking out books. She was sure that he'd be able to appreciate all of her selections. They were her personal favorites. She never turned her eyes away from a good book. She'd share these with Caesar and maybe on future excursions she'd be able to bring him back even more.
Thirty minutes passed by quickly as she skimmed through her selections. The tent was filled with the scent of the nearly done sweetrolls. She regretted not being able to have any of them, but there was a greater good to be serviced. She found one of her stray gloves in the pile of her things and used it to lift one of glasses.
They were finished. It was time.
She watched as Caesar took a bite out of a sweetroll. He nodded, and she let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding.
"These are great." He said, swallowing the bite of pastry. He smirked at her. "Believe me when I say that you would make a more than exceptional woman."
"No."
"What's all that for anyway?" He kept eating, but pointed at the books she cradled in her arms. She nodded, and put all but one of them on the floor next to her feet. She opened it and was about to speak but he was able to put the pieces together to object.
"Wait. Faustus, you aren't reading me fucking bedtime stories, are you? 'Cause I'm more than half your age."
She looked up from the pages to give him a frown. "And I am your doctor, or did you not appoint me to that position? I intend on doing my job well; besides, it's not a bedtime story, merely a reading of a book you haven't read yet, I'm sure."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"I assure you that I only deal in medicine, not jokes." She opened the book and began to read aloud from it. "The sun did not shine, it was too wet to play. So we sat in the house all that cold, cold wet day—"
"Is this a fucking picture book?" Caesar's eyes widened and the sweetroll he was eating fell from his hand to the plate it had come from.
Valence peered up from her reading while she turned the page. "Yes, it is. Do not let its childish nature fool you. The author writes an engaging tale."
"Faustus there's a picture of a fucking cat on the cover."
"Yes, I am aware of this."
"The cat is wearing a fucking bowtie."
Valence decided to ignore his complaints. The doctor knew best. "I sat there with Sally. We sat there, we two. And I said, 'How I wish we had something to do!'"
"Faustus this is fucking stupid—"
"Too wet to go out and too cold to play ball. So we sat in the house. We did nothing at all." Caesar didn't interrupt her, instead opting to angrily take a chunk out of one of the sweetrolls. "So all we could do was to sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! And we did not like it. Not one little bit. And then something went bump! How that bump made us jump!"
"Can you at least stop reading it in monotone? It's fucking weird…" She tried not to let her delighted sneer show over the pages of the book. He was getting used to it. She decided to at least listen to his request. Saying it with feeling shouldn't be too hard, with the way the words could capture her so simply.
"We looked! Then we saw him step in on the mat! We looked! And we saw him! The Cat in the Hat! And he said to us, 'Why do you sit there like that?'—"
"Wait, wait. Let me see these pictures." He said the last word as if it was dirty, and Valence obliged, showing him the image of a cartoon cat (bowtied and top hatted) strolling into the home of two surprised cartoon children. The man snorted. "Cats can't do anything like that."
"You take the story too seriously, my lord."
"Just keep reading the damn thing!"
"But the Yeps on the steps—they're great fun to have around. And so are many, many other friends that I have found…" Valence turned the page and took a deep breath. This was her favorite part of the book.
"Like the Tellar and Nellar and the Gellar and the Dellar and the Bellar and the Wellar and the Zellar in the cellar." She turned the page to show the picture.
Caesar snorted. "And of course they're lounging about like a bunch of lazy profligates. Who would have guessed?" He waved his hand, signaling for her to continue.
"…And the Geeling on the ceiling… and the Zower in my shower…"
"That's so invasive of him. Had that been my home I would have skinned that stupid Zower alive."
"And the Zillow on my pillow. I don't care if you believe it. That's the kind of house I live in. And I hope we never leave it. The end." She showed off the final picture. There's a Wocket in my Pocket had always been one of her favorites.
Somewhere down the line, her reluctant leader had finally accepted these books, requesting the ones he thought would be interesting. The Cat in the Hat Comes Back, Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish and so many more—it didn't matter what book it was. He enjoyed it. She complemented herself on a job well done, but now there was nothing left to read. She frowned. She was enjoying reading aloud.
"Well, I suppose that's it then. If you'd like you can get some sleep now. I just needed to see if you'd have trouble staying awake to know if your condition was worse than I though. It hasn't developed into pneumonia—if it had you would have found it difficult to stay conscious." Valence stacked the books slowly and lifted them up to sit on her lap. Caesar was staring at her, a strange look in his eyes. "Yes?"
He didn't reply immediately, merely looked at her until she felt herself growing restless with anticipation. Finally, after what seemed to be some long consideration on his part, he spoke.
"Are you sure there isn't a woman under that armor?"
Valence could only raise an eyebrow in reply. She looked to the side to consider the question for a moment.
I do not like many, but I've taken to you.
Vulpes' words rang in her ears, and she managed to curl her lips up into a sneer, a crude attempt at a smile.
"No. I'm not."
She left the tent without another word.