Medication

[lostamigo]

[Daniel sits in a common room, in a chair large enough to support his weight. In front of him, a TV. What's playing is the ending credits to a western, as the cast rides off into the sunset. Looks like he's been sitting here for a while. And, as soon as someone passes by, he speaks.]

...I made a mistake. Can't move my leg. On the table over there, a syringe. Can you give it to me? Sorry about that.

Comments

[armowrpiercing]

On contrary, I don't see any reason why we should move at all on this nice day.

[lostamigo]

I have work to do. If I don't do it, I won't get paid. I'd rather keep this job.

...Do you even use money? As a cat?

[armowrpiercing]

Cats have expenses too.

And you should say so from the beginning. I won't want to get in the way of a laborer's livelihood.

*Archie jumps down and fetches the syringe between his teeth. He then drops it on Daniel's lap*

I hope your other limbs are still functioning, sire, because eventhough I have no problem piloting Smilodon, my lack of thumbs give me a conundrum if you need me to inject that syringe into your leg.

Frankly, this thumb-driven society is a disgrace, but what can I say?

[lostamigo]

It's hard to build a civilization without thumbs. Hard to use tools.

[Daniel stabs the syringe into his chest. So much for legs.]

...And I'm not a laborer.