[ miles catch-all: one-way train to crazy town ]

[forwardmomentum]

Who: Miles & company
When: March...ish. all of March. there u go
Where: assorted locations, mostly on the Moira
What: Miles's no good very bad brains month
Warnings: general mental illness, trauma/PTSD, discussion of sexual assault



starters go below, post one if ya feel like it or let me know if I should write one

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[forwardmomentum]

Miles suddenly feels a bit cornered by all the dishes hovering expectantly in front of him, and it about makes him twitch -- get a hold of yourself, boy -- he looks down at the hand pie he's holding and back up at Wanda. "I...think I'll start with this first, thanks."

He surreptitously wipes his eyes on his sleeve under the guise of covering a cough. Whatever he was crying about, his mind keeps shying away from it, and he's tired. He isn't really hungry, but he should eat, because if he didn't go to dinner then when was the last time he did? Mentally Miles tries to recount his day backwards. Kitchen shift, right, and before that he'd been in his office...all day...hadn't he? Yes, he's certain of that -- the twinge in his lower back is testament to the long hours of slogging through the mountain of new personnel files on his desk after the last wave... Doesn't he have staff for this? He absolutely has staff for this. Where's Bel, maybe they can round up Tung and have him dump this load of paperwork on some other poor sod...

Miles glances down at his chrono -- no, MID -- and sighs as he takes a few absent bites of the hand pie, at which point he realizes he is frigging ravenous. He must've passed the whole day without eating -- a few more leftovers probably wouldn't hurt. Scarfing down another few bites, Miles nods at Wanda.

"Hey, do me a favor and comm Captain Thorne, will you?" Somewhere in there his accent wavers and shifts, settling into something that sounds almost American, a dramatic change from the warm gutturals of his Barrayaran accent, sounding distantly Russian. "Tell them to hustle up the old Commodore and have him clear out all this blasted paperwork on my desk, I could seriously use a break."

And a nap. If that isn't already evident.

[seeingscarlet]

Wanda doesn't look entirely convinced, but the dishes retreat a few feet. She's fairly certain from the internal monologue that no, Miles hasn't eaten all day. She'd really like to try to get him to eat a little more, or at least enough so that she won't have to worry about him falling over. It really doesn't look like it would take much.

Tung? It's not a name Wanda recognizes, and okay, the crew has exploded in size recently so maybe that's not terribly strange. But what is strange is the accent shift. Normally Miles sounds like he could be from the same part of the world as Wanda, but that...that's much closer to how Bel sounds.

"The Commodore...?" No one that she knows of is going around with that title. "Miles, are you sure you don't feel sick?"

[forwardmomentum]

"Quite sure," Miles mutters around a mouthful of pie, absently brushing his hand at the corner of his mouth to wipe away any crumbs. Sick, no -- hazy, weary, sure, but oddly wired despite all that. He might make himself sick eating too fast, but that hasn't occurred to him, apparently, given the rate at which he's just finished that hand pie. He glances around, grabs another, and starts in on that one as he starts to pace, ducking out of the way of the floating dishes where they're barring his path.

"Just comm Captain Thorne," he sighs with a wave of his hand. "Tung'll put up an argument, but it's just for sport, at this point. I'm sure he's got a trainee or two he's been just waiting to break in."

[seeingscarlet]

"Miles," Wanda begins very patiently, "We don't have trainees." She's already weighing the benefits of forcing Miles to calm down. He's a mess and she can feel it without much effort at this point - never a good sign.

Bel will worry if they see this, and Wanda's really quite sure Miles is not mentally Here. Still, it looks like maybe she's doing what he asked - in reality she's checking the directory to see if there's anyone on the Moira named Tung.

So either sick, hallucinating, or having a complete break with reality. Lovely.

"And there isn't a Tung here." There's an odd focus to her gaze, like she's looking through him. "Have you been sleeping?"

[forwardmomentum]

Hey, two out of three ain't bad, Wanda.

Miles narrows his eyes -- more of a bewildered squint, although alarm and confusion are rising in sync in his throat.

"Wanda," he starts, in exasperation, but he fails to follow that up with anything as his tired mind tries to sort out the details. This is Wanda, and they're on the Ariel, for God's sake, she should know -- wait, no, the Ariel is Bel's ship, this must be the Triumph -- wait -- a hysterical giggle escapes Miles's throat despite himself as confusion asserts itself into chaos, everything starting to blur together.

"Is that a trick question?"

[seeingscarlet]

His thoughts are like a kaleidoscope - every time Wanda thinks she's got the thread of it, they shift drastically and she's left fumbling to piece it all together. Except, of course, they don't go together, and that is most definitely not a reasurring sound.

Wanda's starting to wonder if perhaps Miles needs a session with Eric instead of time in the medbay. Or both.

"It shouldn't be. Go rest. The paperwork can wait until tomorrow."

[forwardmomentum]

"No -- no." Miles presses his fingers to his temples, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "I mean -- yes. To hell with the paperwork, I'm not gonna..."

The room feels like it swims all around him, but when he snaps his eyes open, Wanda's still standing there, and he's still in the kitchen. The empty kitchen -- he looks around -- right. He gives Wanda a narrow-eyed look of bewilderment. "Rest?" His accent snaps back to Barrayaran like a rubber band. "What, you want me to call out of my shift before it's even started? I'll just go back to my cabin after dinner's ready, I'll be fine."

[seeingscarlet]

"Miles--" Wanda begins, then shuts her mouth. There's no point. She wanted to handle this like a normal person, but Miles is so sick or sleep deprived or both that it doesn't seem possible. He doesn't even realize he's already holding a half-eaten hand pie.

There's really only one way to fix this...

The pans float to the ground and Wanda takes a few steps forward and starts to walk past him. "If you are sure..." she says, like this is even close to over. But as soon as she's behind him, she reaches for her powers. It's easier to make someone sleep than to craft a vision, though she does need to be ready to catch him. Sorry Miles, you're grounded.

She lowers him to the floor and eases a folded dish towel under his head before the what-do-I-do-now worry sets in. Leaving him like this is an option, but if he's actually sick...maybe she should do him the "favor" of letting his roommates know at least.

Gregor seems like a reasonably responsible sort, so:

Miles fainted during his shift. I think he's sick. Help me get him to the medbay?

[lets_see_what_happens]

Gregor stares down at his MID in sick worry for barely more than an instant before he's moving, half-running down to the kitchens and skidding to a stop in the doorway, gripping the frame with long, white-knuckled fingers.

"What happened?"

[seeingscarlet]

"I don't know." Only half a lie; she knows very well what knocked Miles out but not precisely what drove him into this state.

"Miles was talking about things that didn't make sense, losing time. He forgot it was after dinner in the middle of a sentence. Maybe he just needs to rest, but...it seemed like it was more than that."

[lets_see_what_happens]

"I see," Gregor says, his long legs eating the distance across the room until he can drop down to kneel at Miles' side, pressing long, cool fingertips to his forehead.

"We have to get him to medical. There's no telling what's wrong with him if he just dropped out of nowhere like that. Did he seem like he was having a stroke, or a seizure of any kind? Could it have been a heart attack?" Gregor probably really shouldn't be grilling this poor woman about Miles' condition but this is his version of 'complete brainmelting panic' and he's keeping a pretty tight lid on it so far.

[seeingscarlet]

Wanda feels almost a little bad watching Gregor sort-of panic. But really, Miles had devolved to scary-erratic so quickly. What else was she supposed to do? Some rest certainly can't hurt him.

"No, he was just confused. He thought we were on other ships and kept asking for Tung." Maybe that will mean something to him aside from 'not here,' 'one of Bel's underlings apparently,' and 'Miles has completely lost his mind.'

[lets_see_what_happens]

"Oh," Gregor says, not sounding particularly baffled by the contents of Miles' babbling. He looks up slowly at Wanda as he gathers Miles in against him, drawing his too-slight weight up slowly.

"...what exactly did you say happened again?" His eyes are penetrating on Wanda's face, dark and still. "He just... fell asleep?"