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WHO: Newt Geiszler & Hermann Gottlieb - eventually Mako Mori [CLOSED]
WHERE: De Chima (two hotels, two taxis, one cafe, and the porter ~~in a pear tree~~), then Maurtia Falls (Newt's apartment)
WHEN: August 15th-16th - immediately following the August 2015 Swear-In, after Qubit portals them out - forward from there
WHAT: The scientists yell, they argue, they cry, they hold each other together. Then they invite Mako for pizza and try not to spoil their canon for her.
WARNINGS: Newt drops several F-bombs and other lesser curses. Lots of arguing, some serious some childish. Some throwing up. Discussion of their respective mental/physical conditions. Panic attacks. Discussion of self-experimentation of the dissection variety. A single mention of embryonic stem cells. Newt puts his tea on ice--and that's apparently sacrilegious to Hermann.

Hermann and Newt - De Chima to Maurtia Falls
( I know that I've got issues | But you're pretty messed up too )

Hermann, Newt, and Mako - Maurtia Falls
( Either way I found out | I'm nothing without you )

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It was such a relief to change into clean clothes- and marginally less formal ones at that. He'd have to send them off to the dry cleaners and see if he couldn't patch up some of the small tears. His right leg was attempting to play up, and it made redressing take a bit longer than usual, but he managed it.

Hermann spent an extra few moments straightening his hair, then emerged from the bathroom to find Newton changed. For some reason that was a surprise, and he gave his lab partner a cursory once-over. He ultimately came to the same delayed realization as Newton and paused.

"Did you wish to shower? We have time." Granted, food was just beginning to sound like a good idea as his stomach became aware it was empty, but it could wait a little longer. He should probably sit down anyway.

"You mean 'Do try to make yourself at least marginally presentable, Newton.'" His imitation was getting better, if Newt did say so himself, though he had thought it was pretty good in the first place. Newt considered the choice. "Alright, sure, why not." Hermann won them an hour. Might as well use it up. "I'll be done in a minute."

He stripped down again once he was in the bathroom, leaving his clothes on the counter and the towel racks where he hoped they'd stay dry (and they mostly did, except when he proceeded to drip on them reaching for the actual towel). The water was blissfully warm and relaxing and he scrubbed down his skin, using more soap than necessary (might as well), taking some time. They had an hour and Hermann really looked like he could use the break. Raising holy hell probably took a bit out of him, even if it was a particular pleasure of his. But he was hungry, as his stomach reminded him loudly, and Newt finished up quickly thereafter.

Still toweling off his hair, Newt emerged from the bathroom fully dressed and with a handful of hotel soaps, shampoos, and lotions. Yes, he was definitely taking these home. They were on a budget. And they smelled really good. He shoved a soap bar under Hermann's nose. "Hey. You want half of these or can I take them all?"

The impression was certainly something he'd said before, and therefore accurate, but he wasn't going to say as much. He was less concerned about it now, after traipsing across the state and into the hotel lobby in grass-stained suits, and no one left to impress other than a few unimportant government officials he's sure have seen worse. But the less Newton smelled, the better.

"Your accent is awful."

Reluctant to muss the sheets, Hermann pulled out the desk chair and settled into it with a sigh. The twinge of anxiety reminding him that Newton had left the room needled at him, but he ignored it in favor of massaging his right leg. He was still mobile, and the stiffness was more likely to be a holdover from the botched ceremony rather than a coincidal progression in his disease, but worrying all the same.

Shampoo-scented air hit him in a rush, and he batted Newton's arm away from his face. "You can have them. I already have plenty of shower supplies."

He made to stand, but his leg locked up and refused to straighten, resulting in him hunched over the desk and trying to keep his full weight off his left leg. Hermann grit his teeth and slowly sank back down.

"..It appears we may need some of that extra time."

"Okay, suit yourself," he mumbled, busying himself shoving the tiny soaps and bottles into the extra pockets of his bag. Never say no to freebies; honestly, Hermann.

Newt turned so quickly, as his own leg muscles twinged, he knocked his (fortunately mostly closed) bag off the bed and made only a short, futile attempt to grab it. He half-stumbled in place before he realized if he favored it, it wasn't that bad. Even though it was as sharp and present as if it were his own, that definitely wasn't his own pain and right now, clear and idle as their minds were, it was easier to note the distinction. Whatever pain Newt was feeling was only a fraction of Hermann's--the connection, however it worked, seemed to dilute whatever was transmitted (which sort of was frightening, considering last night). Asking if Hermann was okay seemed kind of pointless--that expression alone definitely said Not Okay and even if they weren't mentally connected, he would have known--but Newt was fine with some redundancy and stupid questions.

"Right. Yeah, no rushing things." His hands fluttered around uselessly, unsure what kind of assistance to offer, if any. "You okay? Anything in your bag you need to take for it?" He was already moving over to Hermann's bag. "What pocket? You wanna stay there," Newt gestured first the desk, then to the bed, "or move? You can move. We got tons of time if you need a rest."

The pain wasn't unusual, just rather poorly timed. Not that there was ever really a good time to be paralyzed. Hermann breathed through it and flexed his fingers, reminded that yes, he hadn't taken any of his medications the night before or that morning for lack of having them. And the night's events simply hadn't done him any favors in that department.

"I'll stay here." Moving wasn't really an option, and much as he preferred to sleep through flare-ups when possible (if that's even what this was) he didn't really have that luxury at the moment.

"Center, four bottles.." Wrapped up in clothing to muffle the rattling. Three for daily intake, and one for pain. If he trusted the nanites to prevent him from developing further symptoms, he'd be able to take one less a day, but better safer, after all.

He was about to request a cup of water to go with it, except as he turned his focus over to his lab partner, it was apparent the man was having difficulties of his own. "..Newton? What's wrong?"

Edited 2015-09-02 10:39 (UTC)

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine!" He crouched down with a wince and opened the pocket to find the four--FOUR?! he felt like Hermann was drowning in meds and Newt had taken his own fair share in his lifetime--pill bottles with a little bit of hunting and then he made his way over to hand them off. The pain was unusual for Newt and he really hoped it had to go away eventually. Even if Hermann didn't take anything, Newt's pain couldn't just...keep going, right? Because that could really suck. "Wait--uh, I forgot to ask. Do you need food with that? Water? Those aren't going to make you dizzy, right? Because I know you're not going to operate any heavy machinery, but I'm not sure they'll let me borrow a bellman cart to wheel you out of here if you can't stand."

Newt gave a slow grin and leaned against the desk. That helped a little with the pain as it let him take more weight off that leg and still look like nothing was bothering him. "Although...that would be kind of fun..."

The grin faded into a frown down at the pill bottles.

"Unless the altered state of mind affects us both."

"Don't be ridiculous," he grumbled as he popped the bottles open. At least his hands were cooperating today. One of them definitely advised against taking on an empty stomach, but it wouldn't be the first time. It grated that he couldn't take them somewhere out of sight, rather than drawing attention to his condition like this, even if his partner was already well aware of it.

And while Newton likely thought he was being subtle, Hermann shifted his weight off his left leg on a daily basis and knew what it looked like.

"Is that what's happening here?" he asked, rather than answering the man's own questions. He recapped the bottles and set them aside. "Mein gott, this connection's more trouble than it's worth. I will require some water, however."

"Right, just a sec!" Moving was a pain. He kind of didn't want to. "And on the topic of the connection: we're perma-drifting, Hermann. It's really not that unexpected that we experience things like this." But he was still going to try for subtle because it was a matter of pride at this point, and he kept chatting as he made his way over to the bathroom for a cup of water. "I mean, all things considered, is it really surprising that I'm getting feedback on your pain? I saw your hallucinations last night--or I think I did--" His voice was muffled as he disappeared into the bathroom and then running water drowned him out if he said anything. It shut off and he emerged with a styrofoam cup of water. "--Point is, we should have seen it coming, but yeah, going to agree with you that it's a pain in the ass." It could have been a lot worse though. At least it was with Hermann.

He handed off the cup and then settled on the edge of one of the beds.

"Full disclosure: How frequent are these?" Newt knew only what he picked up from the Drift and what he learned about Hermann through observation and discussion (and nosiness) while working together. That didn't mean he knew everything, and it was starting to scare him to consider what he might not know, and maybe they had to be a little up front about what was going to be jamming up their connection. It wasn't a talk he really looked forward to, especially in the wake of this morning, but it was probably something they were both going to have to grow some balls and have. Soon. Before something like last night happened again. "You can ask me about my shit, too, anything, just to be fair. I want to know what to expect."

He felt somewhat guilty for forcing Newton to move, but he couldn't so much as stand let alone walk, and neither of them were likely to feel better until his medication kicked in. Unfortunately, he couldn't really disagree that something like this was unprecedented, but no less pleasant.

Sincerely bad timing, he grouched at his nervous system, and swallowed down the pills. Hermann massaged his thigh and frowned over at Newton. Their respective conditions laid bare were the very things they'd threatened to tear each other apart for only an hour ago. But if they were going to share these pains.. it was perhaps an overdue discussion. It didn't make talking about it any easier, and Hermann silently worked through an answer for several minutes.

"..Roughly two days out of every four to six weeks," he said at last. "It's generally manageable, once the worst of it fades." Which was to say, still moderately painful. "Any higher dosage would be counter-productive to functioning."

He nodded. Two days out of the month, then. That was...not as bad as he feared. Newt cracked his knuckles in an anxious habit, since leg bouncing was currently out, and waded through his many questions carefully, trying to be as tactful as he could be, considering.

"Other than meds, what do you do? What options are there?" What can I do? "And, uh, the progression? How far, how fast? Especially if we assume the same conditions as back home." There was a predictive model in there somewhere and if Hermann hadn't calculated it, it was only because he could somehow resist compulsion to do so. More than the others, Newt had wanted this question answered for some time now. It was also the question he least wanted answered.

They probably should have had a discussion years ago, but they'd long since had enough knowledge of each other's issues to understand why the other was the way they were and that had been enough to work together, to disagree and debate and do what was needed. But what was needed had changed, and a 'working knowledge' and a 'deep understanding' were two vastly different things. Now they had to take a crash-course in each other and it couldn't have come at a worse time.

Or better. Newt wasn't really sure which.

The questions were highly invasive, and nothing he'd tolerate from anyone less than medical professionals. Moreover, he didn't like thinking about the slow decline his body would take as he got older, what he'd be like in another five to ten years. Hermann took a deep breath against the pain and his own flare of temper, stared hard at the opposite wall. Lay it out in hard facts.

"Physical therapy, when there was time." Which was non-existent at the Shatterdome beyond what exercise he could get out of walking around the lab and climbing up and down a ladder every day. He had more time now at least, for all the good it was doing him so far. "Intravenous medications or daily injections.." He wasn't a fan of either.

"..I have at most three years before it becomes progressive."

Three years.

No matter what research he read, much of which gave a very similar prognosis, nothing prepared him for hearing it in harsh reality. He tried to get his tongue to work, to find something maybe to lighten the mood or to offer Hermann support or just anything, to shoot his mouth off like he always did, but instead, he was left staring at Hermann--Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, acquaintance of over a decade, colleague of about half that time, Drift Partner of about two weeks, friend...definitively of less than a couple of hours...but in theory of much longer than that, maybe, definitely, his Best Friend--the most brilliant, stubborn, determined man he knew...

He swallowed down a deep breath and-- Breathe, Newt. Breathe. Knowledge was power, but he almost wished he hadn't read as much as he did about MS. He didn't like knowing what Hermann was going to face in the eventual future if someone couldn't find a cure soon, and three years wasn't a lot of time to get that rolling.

"But here, they think they have it stopped, right? Or just slowed? What are they doing for you?"

The pregnant pause and weight of Newton's stare brought his shoulders up, jaw clenching as the man's emotions swept through him and set his teeth on edge.

"For god's sake Newton, I'm not dying," he snapped irritably. Though he couldn't deny it felt like it sometimes, worried that he'll lose what mobility he still had, and then even worse, his mind might erode. For twelve years, it had hardly been his largest concern. He only needed to be functioning then, and in the face of extinction, his disease progression seemed almost trivial.

But now there was a future- a future where his body and mind both slowly broke down and he lost himself in the process. It was absolutely terrifying, and the gas had sparked that undercurrent of fear and preyed on it. Even now, he wondered if this relapse wasn't a sign of approaching that stage. It was something of a miracle it hadn't already, given his poor health over the past decade.

"They believe the nanites may have halted the progression, but can't say anything definitive on the subject," he answered with apparent distaste. It wasn't anything he'd really taken to heart, unable to afford hope in such a flimsy promise. "I have monthly appointments to monitor the variability of my current symptoms and of course, a host of medications and a physical therapist. There isn't much else to say."

There was so much more to say, but neither of them was going to say it.

The nanites brought a little comfort, barely, because Newt couldn't trust in studies that were not definitive and he wanted facts. He wanted to look at what the government was basing their conclusions on. He needed certainty. Or closer to, before he resolved to not do anything himself. It wasn't entirely out of his power to attempt something and that was one thing that kept him from freaking out too badly: he might be able to do something, and dammit, he would try.

He wondered how difficult it would be for him to find out the results of Hermann's monthly tests.

"I know you're not dying, Hermann," he wiped his glasses off and then shoved them back on his face to glare over at Hermann. "Can't I just be concerned about you for one second without you getting all pissy-faced about it? For crying out loud, look at you: you're my fucking Drift Partner. But good, yeah, they're doing something. Awesome. If it's working, maybe we should just stay here." He offered a strained smile. "And I mean, I might be pretty terrible support, but I'm here anyway and I'm there for you back home, too--and regardless of how this plays out, we're going to beat this thing, because we're fucking amazing and we fight a good fight and we're the smartest guys on this planet and if we can drift with a Kaiju and close the Breach, we can definitely beat some crappy disease."

And then he beat a hasty retreat from the emotions and togetherness of promises; Newt held out a hand and gestured for the pill bottles. "Now, toss me those and I'll put 'em away."

Drift partner. Friend. He supposed their relationship would forever float between these two descriptors, the latter perhaps never said aloud. Still, it was touching in a way.

He met Newton's glare with a frown. "Stay here..?" In a world where he might not experience the more advanced stage of his disease. He wasn't certain they had a choice either way, but if they did.. You would do that for me? "Nonsense, our world needs to be prepared for the probability of another invasion. My predictive model is in desperate need of new data."

That at least, he could do. His disease wasn't something he could solve with a clever algorithm, no matter what Newton said about it. It was possible the biologist might be able to- the man was brilliant, after all- but not likely before the next stage developed. He shrugged, gathering up the bottles and tossing them to the bed rather than trusting them to Newton's hands.

"Now what should I expect in regards to your brain chemistry?"

Yes, here. However long they could stay, if it did indeed stave off the disease. For that, Newt could find it in him to deal with a thousand nights like last night, so he nodded, and the nod continued as Hermann logically explained why that was not an option on the table. Of course. The world still had to be saved.

He caught each bottle in turn--well, missing one and making a decent save on another--then tucked them away between the clothes like Hermann had them before.

Tables now turned, Newt struggled over how to explain it in such a way that didn't make him sound as utterly insane as he worried people thought he was. At least he had already known about the MS before, but he had no idea what Hermann knew about him (if Hermann had even cared to find out before) and so maybe a full explanation was in order. Crazy-sounding or otherwise. Better for Hermann to know he wasn't randomly losing his mind, that it was just Newt's brain doing its thing, before they had an actual episode.

"Well, I don't really know what you know," he took his time closing up Hermann's bag, "but that Chilton guy wasn't 100% wrong in his diagnosis. It is, uh, Borderline Personality Disorder--" He spread his hands out in a placating sort of motion. "It's not bad, really? I mean, it's not like you have to worry you're going to hear voices. I've never heard voices before, anyway!" Newt giggled awkwardly and sat down on the bed with a bounce. "And I did manage to procure an antidepressant without having to see Chilton, so there's that. Should probably see a therapist, but that guy kind of put me off of them for the time being." Sigh. What can you do.

"Anyway! Um, uh, what you can expect... Ah. Occasional depression," he flashed a tight smile that tried to look enthusiastic (yay, Hermann, look at the fun times ahead), "mood-swings, the usual Newt Geiszler brand of manic behavior, a fair bit of self-loathing (but honestly, who doesn't, right?)," he shrugged and played it off, considered mentioning 'abandonment issues' and wondered if that sounded way too pitiful (too desperate? too pathetic? gave too much power to Hermann?) to tell his friend who he had just nearly lost this morning as it was, "and I guess I'm kind of clingy? Honest, I'm not as much of a pity party as this makes it sound. I mean, this is all stuff you basically already know."

So however ill-intentioned Chilton may have been, he did know his field. Hermann had done some digging in an attempt to verify, because for all he'd known Newton had some sort of cognitive disorder, he'd never concerned himself with it. The information he'd come up with was fairly alarming to say the least, and he hoped for Newton's sake it wasn't something quite so serious. But nothing he was being told really came as a surprise.

Hermann nodded, wondering how much of Newton's moods would translate across their neural bridge.

"Is there ah, anything I should do when these things happen? Something that might help, perhaps?" He never really did anything before, often leaving Newton to his own devices unless he looked to be in danger of one thing or another, in which case they usually simply argued. Whether it made things better or worse in the long run he never understood, but it was the only form of therapy either of them could afford at the time.

"I've got a handle on it, really. You don't have to worry, Herms." He was not at all used to the attention, even from Hermann, and it made Newt fidget and wave it off. "I don't want to be babied. But, I mean...if you're around? and you want to? --stick around? Keep talking to me." Their arguments really did help. They distracted Newt and forced his brain to focus on either a new subject or on defending himself, and defending himself against Hermann sometimes meant defending himself against his own subconscious negative thoughts. It wasn't that long ago that Hermann forced him to justify his research and place in the post- cancelled-apocalypse world and ...it meant everything in that moment. He would never thank Hermann for it, of course, but that kept his mind from falling down into that depressing train of self-pity and self-loathing. "It's worse when someone leaves. Not that you have to stay if you don't want to! I mean, not trying to pressure you. Like I said, I've got it covered."

Newt hoped that his moods (particularly his anxiety) weren't all going to be broadcast to Hermann, because (a) it wasn't really fair to Hermann, and (b) it was awkward and unfair that he would know each time something set Newt off, even a little, even though Newt was sure Hermann could keep it confidential between the two of them, and (c) if Newt couldn't keep his thoughts and feelings to himself, he was scared Hermann really was going to ask him to neutralize it. As inconvenient as the neural bridge was, severing the connection between them frightened him more.

"Any more questions before the tour ends?"

Hermann watched him with the same pinched assessment he'd often direct at his chalkboards when his equations were slowly beginning to stand out to him as glimpses of the future rather than just a series of numbers. A lot of little things about Newton were making more sense in the context of those implications.

But not feeling quite up to discussing more uncomfortable revelations, he gave a slight, considering nod and levered himself up out of the chair at last. It still hurt, but wasn't quite as debilitating as before. He leaned heavily on his cane.

"Only for how you're feeling at the moment, because I'm likely to spit up my medications if we don't get breakfast soon." Nevermind it was practically noon now, and it was entirely possible he'd throw them back up anyway, but he'd commit homicide for a cup of tea right about then.

He was grateful to shove whatever remaining questions there were, if there were any, into a drawer for later examination. Now didn't have to be the time and Newt felt that Hermann was at least sufficiently informed without Newt feeling any more exposed. Hermann was already giving him that 'I know what makes you tick' look that he gives his chalkboard, or whatever it was, that was the look before there was a flurry of writing, like a lightbulb went off in his head. It was disconcerting to be pieced together like an equation.

As Hermann stood, Newt hefted himself to his feet, trying to evaluate in that moment if his lab partner needed someone to lean on, or if they could reach the lobby as is. Hermann wasn't in top form, but he didn't look like he was going to fall over soon...hopefully. Maybe. His own leg was just a dull ache, far less than it had been, so wasn't impossible to shoulder both bags now. "I'll get our stuff, but are you going to be okay on your own, or do you want a hand?" And then, teasingly, "I could still see about a bellhop's cart for you~"

Naturally, Newton grabbed up their bags before he did, and he threw the man a scowl for the effort. Hermann waved off his offers of assistance and made for the door with a vaulting gait to compensate for muscle weakness.

"I'm fine, Newton. You are only authorized to assist me if I look to be in danger of falling over."

They made it down to the lobby without incident, and Hermann turned in the room key with considerably more grace than he'd received it. The smile he got in turn was incredibly forced, and he turned from the desk with a low grumble.

"Well next time perhaps they won't give us such a difficult time of it. Suppose I should call our taxi ahead of time, depending on how long the line is.."

"Only authorized?" He grumbled under his breath, bringing up the rear. Charge onward, Hermann! For crying out loud. You make it sound so official. What? Do we need to sign some sort of Drift Partner Agreement to cover the clauses of when help is and isn't permitted? "Well, then don't fall over. My hands are kind of full."

Newt was glad to be rid of the hotel and soon, De Chima in general.

"Next time? Already gunning for another go at late-check-out negotiations, huh? Wow, Herms. You enjoyed that more than I thought." He adjusted the bags in his arms and wished Qubit had found Hermann a lighter laptop. The cafe was, fortunately, not far (which was good, because Hermann definitely needed to eat like...yesterday), and once they arrived, Newt quickly hopped in line, amazed at how a city which had been under attack just last night, could still manage to have such long of a line in such a little cafe. "What do you want? Tea and...a turkey sandwich sound good?"

[[ Continued Here ]]

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