2007-04-11: General Lolspital


Bekah_icon.gif Namir_icon.gif


Bekah drops by Namir's apartment to check up on him with some takeout Chinese. He makes her an omelet and the two talk about the romantic nature of the emergency room in Mount Sinai, relationships, and religion. They also briefly discuss the events of the recent lockdown and make tentative plans to have a movie/game night at Bekah's apartment with their respective dates.

Date It Happened: April 11th, 2007

General Lolspital

Namir's Apartment

Despite the fact that the XBox remains at Samantha's place, Namir has returned home to take care of Dahlia and Lamis and to perform some general upkeep around his apartment. This means cleaning: something he's not been able to really do since he was shot, and it's been bothering him — or maybe he's just stir-crazy and lacking in anything better to do. Whatever the case, /cleaning is happening/. He's been warned about gradual recovery and the like, but it's been a week since he was released from the hospital, and he's feeling great. A small boombox CD player he found somewhere in his adventures of cleaning sits now on the coffee table exuding the tones of something Middle-Eastern, and currently the Muslim is rearranging the furniture in the freshly tidied living room. Setting aside his usually pristine wardrobe, he's dressed in black jeans and a white tanktop: down-and-dirty work clothes.

Bekah is dressed in a pair of worn jeans, converse style sneakers, and a long sleeved black t-shirt. Casual clothes, but not the scrubs Namir's seen her in before. She's never been to Namir's place, but she's got the address written down on a scrap of paper in one hand. The other is carrying a bag of what smells like Chinese take-out. She finds the right door number after a glance down at the paper, then knocks at the door with that hand.

In the middle of shoving the couch into a more desirable spot, it takes Namir a moment to notice that there's been a knock at the door. The music coming from the stereo fades as it would should he have turned down the volume dial — but he hasn't touched the thing. There are such benefits to being audiokinetic. The Muslim treads over to the door and looks out the peephole at his impending guest, smirking a little when he spots who it is. "Just a minute, please," he calls through the door as he turns and disappears into the bedroom. A shirt is found and pulled over the tanktop before he returns to the front door and opens it for Bekah. "What, more gifts?" he chuckles, eyeing the bag with exaggerated wariness. "Please tell me these aren't sex toys."

Bekah waits patiently at the door before she just laughs at that statement. "Nah. I considered it, but really, I think those are better for women in most cases. I brought dinner. Thought I'd come check and see that you're healing all right." Bekah looks down to the bag and takes a sniff. "Nothing sex related unless you can orgasm from the thought of take out Chinese." She's in a good mood, it seems, despite the dark circles showing under her eyes.

Oooh, Chinese. Namir appears somewhat crestfallen at that. Chinese is one of those takeout foods that he avoids simply because he has no guarantees that, even if it isn't explicitly a pork dish, the ingredients have not touch utensils that have been used for pork. This makes the food untouchable to him. "Quite the opposite, actually," he intones as he steps aside to allow Bekah room to enter the apartment. "I'm not a fan of Chinese food." He sounds quite apologetic.

Bekah is marginally Christian, thus has no real reference for food rules. She looks down at the food and sighs. "Sorry. I'll try to remember that. Maybe the sex toys would have been a better choice. You don't like any of it?" She asks as she steps into the apartment. "Good thing I'm hungry." And trying to cover a yawn.

Once Bekah is in, Namir closes and locks the door behind her before leading the way into the simplistic but functional kitchen to get some plates. "Truthfully, I've never tried it, however under the restrictions of halal, it is generally considered forbidden as it likely has been touched by pork products. It would have to have been prepared a very specific way." He smiles faintly. "Thank you for the gesture, though." She couldn't have known that he doesn't eat takeout Chinese. Then, changing the topic entirely, he continues on with: "Sam told me that you had a bit of excitement at the hospital last night."

Bekah blinks at that statement. "Oh, right. I forgot about the dietary rules thing. I had a nanny once that was a devout Catholic. She'd never let my brothers and I eat meat on a Friday, but that's about as close as I've come to any of them myself." She looks down to the food. "I could take it home for later." She offers before she nods her head. "Excitement. I suppose that's a good word for it. I didn't have to stay all night, but I was supposed to be off shift for most of it. So I got to put in some extra time. Who needs sleep?"

"Halal isn't so different from kosher, really, except that we are not allowed alcohol." Funny how that works, isn't it? Though Bekah has indicated that she'll take the Chinese food home, Namir doesn't put away the plates. "Well, if you're hungry now, I can whip up something real fast. I was about to start dinner anyway. Can I get you something to drink?" The mention of needing sleep gets a quiet snort from him. "Both you and Samantha need sleep, and plenty of it. Shame that the ill and infirm can't just … stop being ill and infirm for a weekend, hmm?"

Bekah nods her head. "Right. No pork, no alcohol. Do you have to cook the rest of your meat separately from any dairy?" So maybe she does know a bit of something about dietary rules, at least Jewish ones. Bekah gives Namir a smile. "That would be good, though I came to give you a break. How's the chest feeling? And I could use about thirty years of sleep today, I think. And to never see a quarantine suit again. Those things are like a sauna inside." She complains, though there's still a smile close by.

"Mm-hmm. Being stewed alive in your own juices for hours on end is only marginally preferable to dying of a horrid, incurable disease," intones Namir sympathetically as he opens the refrigerator to go in search of ingredients. He comes back with eggs, some fresh vegetables, and a bag of kosher cheese. Clearly, he is gearing up to make an omelet. Who said breakfast had to be in the morning? "My chest has been feeling fine. I'm off the pain medication for good and have been exercising again. Thank you again, by the way, for what you did." No doubt he wouldn't have been making such a wonderful recovery if not for Bekah's abilities.

Bekah nods her head at the first statement with a laugh. "Exactly!" She states before she smiles. "Glad to hear you're feeling better. No more getting shot." She states before she looks to what he's doing. "Ooh, breakfast. Wonderful to eat any time of the day." She states before she shakes her head. "I think I may have met someone with my power last night. Or I didn't have the control on mine I thought I did."

"Oh?" A frying pan is procured as well as some margarine and Namir sets about chopping, mixing, and generally preparing a pair of killer omelets. He's quite good at that. "What happened?"
"Maybe it was the damn suit." Bekah notes. "I gave a small bit of healing to a bleeding wound. I just wanted it to not need stitches anymore. I was all suited up, and that wasn't going to be fun in those gloves. A visiting nurse washed the wound, and be the time he was done, it was all healed up. I didn't try to heal it all the way. Too obvious."

Wow. That's odd. And speaking of abilities, Namir gives a small start and suddenly drops what he's doing, heading for the living room once again. Still, he doesn't drop the conversation: "Really? Has that ever happened before? Maybe you were just tired and overwhelmed." He reaches the CD player and shuts it off, though it really wasn't playing any noticeable music anyway, before he returns to the kitchen to start in on the frying portion of the omelet-making process.

Bekah considers that as she leans against the counter. "Not for a long time. I started to develop my power back in med school. At first, I didn't have good control, but it's been years since I healed something that much more than I tried to. It seemed like the nurse guy did it, to me. But maybe it was just being tired." She states. The non-noticable CD player being turned off doesn't get much attention from her in all this. He could have turned the volume down the old fashioned way earlier, for all she knows.

Audiokinesis is a sneaky power that way. Namir nods understandingly at that. "Whenever I am extremely tired or distracted, my control isn't what it ought to be. Sometimes I overdo things." But he's not about to rule out the possibility of the nurse being the culprit, if Bekah suspects as much. He shrugs a little, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his hip against the counter adjacent to the stove while the first omelet cooks. "You ought to ask him if you are unsure, however — or perhaps find a way to track him down and observe him again."

Bekah nods her head. "Maybe it was the whole crazy contagious illness thing." She says as she watches Namir cook. "I'll have to see if I can track him down and keep an eye on him. Just to see." She states before she grins. "Do you cook for Sam?"

Sprinkling a bit of cheese into the center, Namir folds the omelet with a deft flick of the spatula and smirks a bit. "Mm, sometimes. I cooked her French toast this morning— " or whenever it was that she woke up; he wasn't keeping track "— but she's been doing more cooking for me than I have for her lately. For obvious reasons." She was trying to be helpful.

Bekah nods her head. "You know, I bet you could convince her to cook for you without even getting shot. Especially if you say, give her a book report on that book." Bekah teases before she just grins. "I don't cook a lot. Not that I'd burn down whole buildings, but it rarely seems worth the effort."

"You are assuming that I haven't already," retorts Namir with a broad, if not somewhat pink-cheeked grin. He hasn't, of course, because he's only just recovered enough and happened to finish reading the other night. And who knows, maybe Samantha talks about such things with Bekah. Women do that sort of thing, right? The Muslim shakes his head. "It is easiest for me to cook, considering. That way I know what went into the meal and how it was prepared." Dietary laws and all that. "One tends to learn quickly under such circumstances."

Bekah snickers and shakes her head. "Nah. Sam would be in a better mood lately if you had." She's clearly teasing before she nods. "I guess it probably makes it much easier when you need to know just how and with what it's cooked. My parents never took what time we had together to really push anything religious, even though they gave us all good Biblical names. And the ability to eat any kind of takeout we wanted. I'm rather fond of Indian actually. Nice and spicy."

"So long as there are no pork products or products made from blood in it, Indian cuisine is fantastic. I like spicy foods." One omelet is dished out onto a plate, and then the pan re-greased for the second. "Have you ever tried anything from the Middle-East? My sister-in-law makes halva that is quite possibly the closest thing to Paradise one can get without being sacrilegious." Namir grins a bit.

"Indian food tends to have a good vegetarian component to it, which should be safe, right?" Bekah asks before she bites her lip thinking. "Halva? I don't think so. Mostly, I've had hummus and falafel from the Middle-East area, I think."

Namir nods. "Indian is usually fairly safe. I enjoy it on occasion." He pauses, considering. "I ought to take Sam to the Tabla sometime. It's pricey, but it's a wonderful place." He gives a small nod of his head, committing this idea to memory, before he folds the second omelet. "I will have to bribe Zaina to make some halva for you. It really is quite good."

"What's in halva?" Bekah asks curiously before she nods. "I'd like to try it. Tabla is a great restaurant for a special night. You could make it a prelude to your book report." She jokes as she watches him finish cooking.

The somewhat sheepish but broad grin returns as Namir flips the omelet onto the other plate and drops a fork onto each. One plate is offered to Bekah. "Indeed, though the real problem with that is finding the /time/ with Sam now. I have plenty of it for the next week, but she has all this work stacked up." He's almost envious; Samantha isn't the only one who is used to a demanding occupation. "Something to drink?" the Muslim adds as an afterthought.

Bekah nods her head. "And then you'll be back to work and be just as busy as she is, huh?" She takes the plate with a nod to Namir. "Whatever you have. Water is fine. So long as it's wet." As if there's not wet water. "Thank you for feeding me when I dropped by out of nowhere."

If there's no wet water, there will be complaints to the super. Namir has soon procured a glass of water — filtered from the mechanism on the fridge — and a bottle of (what else?) IBC cream soda for himself. As he lacks a kitchen table, he heads into the living room, expecting Bekah to follow. "It's no trouble at all," he assures with a smile, which fades as he nods in response to her previous question. "Right. We'll both be back at work and then we will never see each other again, except on the rare occasion in which I get shot, or she gets held hostage by some homeless maniac with a shard of glass and black acidic vomit." Yeah, Sam told him about /that/ adventure. He wasn't thrilled. He sets his bottle on the coffee table within easy reach of both armchair and couch and seats himself in the former, folding his legs Indian-style.

Bekah takes the water and follows Namir to settle into the couch with a wince. "She told you about that, huh? Well, at least your dating life is going better than mine. I've had two attempts lately with this guy. First time everything goes all to hell with setting his tie on fire and being mistaken for a hooker and the second, he was going to join Sam and I for drinks when that whole shard of glass/acidic vomit thing happened. Maybe it's a sign." She says with a sigh before she takes a bite. "This is good."

"Thank you." Namir is genuinely pleased at the compliment. "I brag about being able to cook, but omelets are one of the only things I do really well." Vegetarian, no less! Because there are really no breakfast meats that don't involve pork. He smirks before getting back to the incident with the homeless man: "Yes, she told me — a week too late." Still a bit of a sore spot, obviously, though he manages not to sound bitter. "I wouldn't worry about such things too much; it may just be a sign that you are in for a rough ride, but the rewards are always sweeter in such cases."

"She was fine. There wasn't even that much for me to heal." Bekah says before she rolls her eyes. "He's a Jr. High teacher. It didn't seem dangerous. Though I did meet him in the ER." Bekah takes another bite of the omelet before she comments. "Well, stick with your strengths then, because this is good."

"Thank you again." He grins. "That's where I met Sam," chuckles Namir. "I guess the ER really is as romantic as the soap operas would have us believe." Granted, he wasn't a patient then, he was merely accompanying a victim. "You know, if you want to avoid potential disasters, you should avoid public places. Invite him to your place — if that is too forward, perhaps Sam and I could come along." Where /he/ — the man who has dated three times in as many decades — is getting all this sage advice is anyone's guess. He reads a lot of books.

Maybe it was even in Bekah's book. "That might be a good idea. Maybe we can all play a game or something. Or sharesome food that you can actually eat." Instead of the Chinese she brought tonight.

"I could teach you all how to play XBox." It all comes back to XBox for Namir, though judging by the grin on his face, he is merely joking now. XBox is not for /everyone/. "Or we could watch a movie, play cards. Something interesting and fun. I can't make any guarantees as far as Sam is concerned, but I would certainly do my best not to set his tie on fire." It is a solemn oath, followed by a drink from his soda.

Bekah nods her head. "A movie or cards would be good. I'll make sure there is no fire present. No candles allowed." She states before she grins. "And some food that never touched anything pork related."

The soda is raised in a salute, and Namir grins once more. "I appreciate it. Between you and I, we might just inadvertently turn Sam semi-kosher." Not that he's made this a goal, really; it /has/, however, been a source of personal amusement to him of late. A non-kosher Jew and a strictly halal Muslim: such a pair.

Bekah laughs at that and raises her water glass back. "Yeah, the Muslim and the sort of Christian turn the Jewish girl kosher. Sounds like a bad country song." She adds the last dryly. "So no mixing meat and dairy for that one, either. We can be that semi-kosher at least."

"Or a soap opera. We all met in the Emergency Room of Fate." The title is spoken ominously, and Namir widens his eyes spookily before the grin returns. "We can sit her down and have an intervention: 'Samantha, you know we love you, but we think that your eating pork may condemn your soul for all eternity.'"

Bekah just cracks up laughing at that. "Yes. Because if there is a God, he obviously will toss us into a firey hell if we dare to eat pig." She says lightly. "Maybe it's not being religious, but I see it as a lot of family and cultural heritage. At least with the Jewish group." Yep. She's all about being unintentionally insulting tonight.

Namir nods his head, taking no offense at all to Bekah's words — but then he's never been one easily insulted. "For some, it is. For others, it is quite religious. After all, if you told your child not to do something, and he did it anyway, would you not punish him?" He smiles. "It is the same concept behind halal: we were told not to partake of these things by God, and so we obey." Though quite frankly, he's not even sure if he does it for religious reasons or self-discipline anymore. He isn't exactly the most devout of Muslims. His smile grows wry and he snorts softly. "Then again, pre-marital sex is really and truly frowned upon in Islam, and I'm not exactly guiltless where that is concerned."

Bekah considers that. "Punish, yes. But not an eternal one. After all, I'll love my kids no matter what they do. Punishment should give them the chance to do the right thing next time." She states, finishing her food before the yawning takes over again.

"Mm-hmm." Namir grins again. "Though in the case of some children that I have encountered, making them sit in a corner forever would be satisfying on some level." He is joking, of course; he does love children. It's not long before he's finished off his own omelet and sets the plate down on the coffee table. He smirks in an amused fashion at the yawning. "You look very tired." Obvious Muslim is Obvious.

Bekah nods her head. "I am. I was on yesterday day shift. Then I had to go draw blood. Then I was on day shift today." Which makes for a tired Bekah. "But I was too keyed up to sleep after shift." So she came here instead.

Clearly. But Bekah doesn't seem wired anymore, and Namir sets aside his now-empty bottle as well. "You ought to get some sleep. Are you going to make it home all right? I can call you a cab, or if you're really tired, you can sleep on my couch." It's not like he's using it.

Bekah shakes her head. "I'll be fine. I used to have to work crazy long shifts all the time. The night air will wake me up long enough for me to get to my place to crash." She standsup and grabs her plate to take it to the sink like a good little girl. She'll even make sure she takes the chinese food. "I'll try to set up a hangout time for everyone at my place."

"Oh, let me get that." Nobody washes dishes in his apartment except Namir — except when he's got a hole blown in his chest. Then Sam does the dishes sometimes. But that's not really important. He stands to take the plate from Bekah. "You just worry about getting home without being mugged, hmm? Give me a call and let me know when you work something out; Sam has my number."

Bekah lets Namir have the dishes as she laughs. "Hey, who gets to talk about being mugged here? I've never been shot!" She states playfully as she makes sure she has her things. "I'll let you know. Maybe we can watch a cheesy movie we can make fun of." She says before she's heading towards the door, covering another yawn.

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