Desmond figured Shaun just had the sniffles. He thought about it for all of two seconds, wondering if he was getting an early look at his own cold in a week or so.
Then the sneezing stopped. A fresh set of symptoms emerged to replace them.
Shaun breathed deeply. “Lucy,” he warned as she swept past him. “It’s allergies, not Ebola, apparently you didn’t get that email? It's better now, I don't even notice.”
“It’s worse,” Lucy said. “Trouble breathing, cold sweats, light-headedness, rapid pulse, mild arrhythmia… We don’t have the medication to deal with this if you have some kind of anaphylactic reaction, Shaun.”
“Well of course it’s going to sound bad when you list them off like that!” Shaun said.
They’d stopped Animus work and made him sit at his desk after the flushed skin and shivers started, since he vehemently refused to take a rest in his bed for some reason. Desmond leaned in. “Can you even breathe?” he asked. “You’re all red.”
“Lobster red,” Rebecca offered.
“Yes thank you, children,” Shaun said sourly. “I can, in fact, breathe.”
Rebecca looked up at Lucy. “What do you think? He has been getting worse.”
“No, do not start taking unnecessary risks because of this!” Shaun snapped. “It looks worse than it is. I’m not dying.”
“Aren’t anxiety and confusion both symptoms of some allergic reactions?” Rebecca said, peering into Shaun’s face.
“If your airway started closing for no reason you’d be a little anxious too, I imagine.” Shaun blinked. “Not that mine is. I can still talk. You can hear that, can’t you? Me talking? Telling you I’m not dying for the hundredth time?”
Desmond sniffed. “Have you ever had allergies before?”
Shaun opened his mouth and closed it again. “Just because I—”
“Then how do you know what to look for?”
“Desmond’s right,” said Lucy. She put a hand to her forehead. “Okay. Desmond, stay with him. We’re going for supplies.”
Shaun whined and bitched in usual Shaun fashion until they were gone.
And then without warning he doubled over with an agonized moan.
Sneezes and Other Physiological Responses
Then the sneezing stopped. A fresh set of symptoms emerged to replace them.
Shaun breathed deeply. “Lucy,” he warned as she swept past him. “It’s allergies, not Ebola, apparently you didn’t get that email? It's better now, I don't even notice.”
“It’s worse,” Lucy said. “Trouble breathing, cold sweats, light-headedness, rapid pulse, mild arrhythmia… We don’t have the medication to deal with this if you have some kind of anaphylactic reaction, Shaun.”
“Well of course it’s going to sound bad when you list them off like that!” Shaun said.
They’d stopped Animus work and made him sit at his desk after the flushed skin and shivers started, since he vehemently refused to take a rest in his bed for some reason. Desmond leaned in. “Can you even breathe?” he asked. “You’re all red.”
“Lobster red,” Rebecca offered.
“Yes thank you, children,” Shaun said sourly. “I can, in fact, breathe.”
Rebecca looked up at Lucy. “What do you think? He has been getting worse.”
“No, do not start taking unnecessary risks because of this!” Shaun snapped. “It looks worse than it is. I’m not dying.”
“Aren’t anxiety and confusion both symptoms of some allergic reactions?” Rebecca said, peering into Shaun’s face.
“If your airway started closing for no reason you’d be a little anxious too, I imagine.” Shaun blinked. “Not that mine is. I can still talk. You can hear that, can’t you? Me talking? Telling you I’m not dying for the hundredth time?”
Desmond sniffed. “Have you ever had allergies before?”
Shaun opened his mouth and closed it again. “Just because I—”
“Then how do you know what to look for?”
“Desmond’s right,” said Lucy. She put a hand to her forehead. “Okay. Desmond, stay with him. We’re going for supplies.”
Shaun whined and bitched in usual Shaun fashion until they were gone.
And then without warning he doubled over with an agonized moan.