6479/This is why we don't do drugs.

This is why we don't do drugs.
Date of Scene:	06 June 2021
Location:	Medical Lab
Synopsis:	Christian wakes up for a talk with Dr. McCoy and is more forthcoming than one might have believed he would be.
Cast of Characters:	Christian Frost, Henry McCoy

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Christian Frost has posed:
    When it comes to Christian, Emma would never settle for anything but the best of care. When he continued to bring his nightmares to life in the form of terrifying constructs, even at the hospital, she decided the best wasn't there anymore. That's when she contacted Henry McCoy, setting aside any baggage or whatever may be going on for the sake of what's best for Christian. The transfer was made...
    ...and it's been a long night. Several times Christian has conjured up a nearly eight foot tall, skinny, horrid, monstrous mockery of his father, Winston. Its black eyes are nothing more than swirling pits of shadows, its teeth are rows of viciously sharp things reminiscent of a shark's mouth; making the jaw a misshapen mess. Saliva drips thick and yellow from the corners of that mouth, arms end in only two fingers and a thumb, each digit stopping in a wicked claw.
    ...each time it was clear that the DaddyThing had only one goal, to try and kill his own son. Each time, once Christian was roused even a little, he was able to dispel it.
    Now, for the first time since his arrival, he's actually starting to wake up some on his own. Beyond the living nightmares and the Kick still in his system, his injuries are numerous. He's lost his spleen, had suffered one collapsed lung, four fractured ribs, bruised kidneys and a subdural hematoma that seems to be resolving on its own. The doctors that started the patch-up work at St. Luke's did a decent job.
    Henry McCoy has his work cut out this time.

Henry McCoy has posed:
Work cut out indeed! Thankfully, as one of the more brillian geneticists on the planet, Henry was up for the task. The good Doctor had been nearby through most of the indicents, working to help Christian rouse when the danger appeared. He hated to keep interrupting his rest, but it was better than the alternative. While the patient was sedate, blood was taken and sampled - Henry trying to isolate this 'Kick' drug and where it was affecting Christian's body and mind.

The damage can be fixed - even the spleen. Henry is confident of that. What he's admittedly struggling with is the Kick. He's bent over an analyzer, looking over the chemical compounds as Christian starts to rouse.

"Good afternoon, Christian. How are you feeling?" He asks, wheeling the stool closer to the bedside for conversation.

Christian Frost has posed:
    Christian has his own questions first before he's ready to answer any. "How many times?" His voice is barely a croak of a whisper, because it hurts a little to talk. "Did it hurt anyone?" Seems he has some vague recollections of being woke up to get rid of his living nightmare. It's strange though, even now, as sick as he is? Well, he's looking pretty fabulous! It's all an illusion and one he maintains without even thinking about doing so.

Henry McCoy has posed:
There's a reassuring smile from Hank, the man shaking his head. "No. No one was hurt, thankfully." Henry offers to the bed-ridden man. A pat to his shoulder. "Your body has suffered quite a bit of trauma - I'd ask what happens, but that'd be prying." The doctor chuckles. "So what I'll do is ask what you took, so we can isolate it and try to remove it from your system. The bodily injury, we can work on." He's got the tools, and the talent!

His eyes go up and down the man, disguised as he may be. "No need to put on aires here, Christian. It might make treating your injuries a bit more difficult. Be at ease, relax. We'll take care of you."

Christian Frost has posed:
    Christian Frost not look *fabulous*, is it even possible for him to allow that to happen? Maybe, but not just yet. In fact, he looks as if he's not even sure what Henry is talking about. The puzzled look fades when he answers the question though, "Kick," he admits. "...and a lot of it," he adds in a whisper softer than the one before. "*He* happened," is the beginning of an explanation. "Winston... or at least the Winston in my head." So, it was his constructs that did this to him? So basically it's all 'self-inflicted'. Wow, that's just a little sad. "I had a full inhaler left, I guess Emma took it." ...along with the four empties. "In the beginning it just kinda helped me forget, but then..." Well, Henry's seen the 'then' first hand.

Henry McCoy has posed:
The Beast listens, no judgement in his eyes, just a concern over what the drug has done. "I'm not a counselor, Christian - that's not really my cup of tea. I can warn you to not take it again - as you can see, that particular drug has caused you no end of trouble." He grabs one of the digital pads charging on the medical bed. He lowers his reading glasses onto his nose from where they were perched atop his head. "Four fractured ribs, bruises on your kidneys, collapsed lung - and you're missing your spleen." He says, setting the digipad down.

"Whatever is in this 'Kick', is setting your mind into overdrive and turning your inner thoughts against you." A slight frown. "I can patch up what's been done to your body, but... if you dabble in this again, I cannot be certain it won't kill you." He says, matter-of-factly. "Do you have a source for where you got this? This sort of thing is going to start stacking up casualties - all over the world."

Christian Frost has posed:
    Christian chews on the inside of his cheek for a few moments. It's the coppery taste of blood in his mouth that brings him back around to the question asked. It's one he's torn over asking. Never give away the source of something you might need again, right? "Emma," he murmurs to himself, but wait! No, there's more! He didn't get the shit from his sister. No, it's the saying of her name, the hearing it said out loud that prompts him to say, "I have a number, it's probably a burner. I don't know a name. I just meet the guy, pay him and get the stuff. If I had to guess, I'd say he's low man on a big totem pool, probably hooked himself and selling the stuff to get his own fix."
    He picks a little bit at a tiny little thread on a blanket on the bed, a distraction as he speaks. "I already know I want more. It happened fast, really fast, the wanting more."

Henry McCoy has posed:
Notes are taken. "If you have the contact number, burner or not, it would help. As would a description of this fellow. We have methods at our disposal that will help us find him, and move our way up the totem pole. The addictive qualities of this substance is going to be an issue." Henry looks to the analyzer. "I need to isolate more information about it, before I can even consider looking into an antidote."

A look back to the other man. "You have to understand that I will not be providing you with this stuff, Christian. You're in for a rough go of detox, I am afraid." He's honest, at least. "But I plan on making your stay her as comfortable as I can, and patching up the physical damage your manifestations have caused you."

Christian Frost has posed:
    "The number's in my phone contacts under Trixie. I... Emma might have it." Christian doesn't have a clue where any of his personal belongings ended up. "555-2176, or 67... maybe 7216?" He stops picking the string that's a little longer now than it was before and looks up at Henry. "I've detoxed before." Not from Kick, but Christian Frost is no stranger to detoxing from illicit substances. "Guy was average build, brown hair, green eyes, shoddy clothes," of course he'd notice the clothing, it's kind of his thing, being the most fashionable person in the room no matter what the occasion. "...but he's a mutant, his hands are formed into like claws, just one big fat finger type thing and a thumb and his eyes were slitted more like a cat's than a person."

Henry McCoy has posed:
More notes! "I'll check with Emma, if she's amiable to discussing such things." Never can tell - strained as relations can be. She might even be wading in to resolve the issue herself! "I wonder if this drug is tailored to affect mutant, as opposed to the general public." A tap of his finger to his chin. "Did someone drop a line to you about this stuff? Or did you just hear rumors through word of mouth?"

Christian Frost has posed:
    "I tried it at a party the first time. When I wanted it again it was just a matter of reaching out." The smile Christian offers is a wry one, not much humor there and he doesn't seem proud of the fact when he adds, "I kind of have my fingers on the pulse of the drug scene, doesn't take much effort for me to get what I'm looking for."
    He lifts his shoulders in an apologetic shrug. "I have no clue if it's tailored for us or if it's just a happy accident that it did what it did to me."

Henry McCoy has posed:
A wry grin from Henry. "I appreciate your answers, Christian. Every little bit helps." He assures. "I'm hoping the drug itself has run its course, with how it is affecting your mind and gifts." A look to the chart, then the patient again. "I can likely create a replacement spleen for you, based on your DNA. If I have your permission, of course." He chuckles.

"All of these things considered, how are you feeling? Anything causing you more discomfort than the others?" Of course, with a litany of issues - it's probably one big ball of awful at the moment.

Christian Frost has posed:
    "Everything hurts," Christian admits, addressing the last bit first because the first bit takes a little thought. "I mean, as long as that's *all* you're creating," he comments with slightly wide eyes. It's not like he's not been in a bad 'here let me use your DNA to create something' situation before. But, alas, Henry isn't Sinister. So, "...sure." Then when he circles back to, "Seriously, everything hurts," that facade he was putting up, the illusion of 'fabulous' fades to leave an ashen, strained face, dark circled eyes and hands that won't quit shaking. "I'm just really tired."

Henry McCoy has posed:
A nod, his face serious. "I've been at the mercies of a maniacal immoral scientist, Christian. I assure you the only thing I am looking to do is heal you. No spare cloned parts, no experiments." Henry murmurs. As the facade drops, the man empathizes. "We will get you back on your feet, I promise. You are safe here, you can rest. I'll keep watch for any problems from your subconcious, all right?" A gentle pat to Christian's hand.

Christian Frost has posed:
    "If it gets bad, collar me," Christian tells Henry in the smallest of small voices. TERRIFIED, that's what that voice is, but he'd rather have that happen than see anyone else hurt because of him. He's been up for one stretch longer than he has been since it all started and now he's fading pretty quickly. His eyes are playing that 'drift shut pop open again' game that lets the other man know he's struggling to stay awake to continue the conversation. "...call Emma for me? See when she's comin'?" The please is in the tone if not voiced aloud.

Henry McCoy has posed:
Another pat to his hand, letting the man drift off. "I'll call her, let her know what's going on." He assures. "We'll see when she's going to swing by. Rest up, all right?" The mention of collaring, is mostly ignored. He's not one for such practices, he'd much rather fight the apparition than disable the man.