demonbelthazor: (Lying down)
[personal profile] demonbelthazor
Bel didn't get sick often, especially since he picked up the nifty insta-healing powers in the Wastelands. But there were a few things that could still knock him off his feet, such as, unfortunately, the common cold. And said cold turned Bel into a whiny, cranky, miserable patient indeed.

Phoebe had gone to the store to buy a bottle of medicine for him. It was the most vile thing he had ever tasted, and living in the Underworld, he had tasted a lot of vile things. But he began to feel a little better, so he figured that more of a good thing was a better thing and chugged the whole bottle.

This could prove to be a biiiiig mistake.

Especially because his cell phone was in easy reach.


[For returned phone calls (hee) and Hyperion inhabitants, and brought to you by the fact that I am sick as a dog and high on NyQuil. NyQuil, NyQuil, NyQuil, we love you, you giant frakking Q!]

Re: Returned Calls

Date: 2009-03-22 02:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mparkerceo.livejournal.com
"Good for you!" Parker encouraged him, chortling. "Listen, hip-hop or rap? Got a preference?"

Zero might like mixing this to a soundtrack, if she got bored. Oh yes.

Re: Returned Calls

Date: 2009-03-22 03:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mparkerceo.livejournal.com
"Yeah, you're right. Mix it up." Parker snickered. "You hang in there, Bel ol' buddy. Got it?"

Parker certainly had.

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