#sickofyou

Whumpee woke up to a stuffy nose and a pounding headache. He tried to shift position, but his limbs felt heavy. The weight of the blanket felt nice, but it was too hot underneath it and the leg sticking out off the bed felt unnaturally cold. He lay uncomfortably in that position for some hours, drifting in and out of sleep. He could barely process hearing Whumper unlock the cell door and swing it open. "Big day today..." Whumper taunted. "The new device arrived yesterday and I've already set it up. We just need-" Whumpee sneezed, cutting Whumper off. Usually Whumper would reprimand him for interrupting, but as she looked closer she noticed Whumpee's unfocused eyes and strange position. "S-sorry. I think...I'm sick." "The fuck do you mean you're sick?!" "I didn't mean to, it's not my-" Whumper sighed. "...fault." Whumper rubbed the bridge of her nose. Things had been going well. She had finally destroyed the last line of evidence someone could have used to find Whumpee. Her new device was here and ready and by god she was expecting some good results. Whumpee had been extra compliant this last week as he had started to lose hope and she had felt generous enough to give him a bed (well, a worn out mattress and pillow, complete with a moth eaten blanket). She didn't have the patience or will to deal with this. But if she didn't, she would have to go out and buy medicine, spending money she was planning for other things. Or even worse, having to take Whumpee to the hospital and exposing them both. Whumper hated it, but she would have to deal with it. "Alright," Whumper said, with all the annoyance she could muster. "Let's get you feeling better."