If you were faced with Him in all His glory

What would you ask if you had just one question?


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IC contact: Sirenspull
- your calls are bad news
paterelohim
Uh, hi! This is Ca- I mean Chuck Shurley, just- Chuck, sorry. [Indistinct fumbling noises] Leave a message after the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks?

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No. [Leaning back over his wheelchair at Cas.] Can you get me a fudgesicle from the freezer?

Why not?

[But he does as he's asked, going to the freezer and handing Chuck a fudgesicle before starting on his crackers.]

Because I said so.

[He takes it and immediately spins the wheelchair around once.]

Thanks, man.

But seriously- you don't have to be on them all the time, but you can't drink when they're kicked in.

[He nods slightly at the thanks.]

Your statements are contradictory.

[If he doesn't have to be on them all the time then why can't he just stop?]

Life is contradictory.

Don't plow through my booze as your pain medication. It's not exactly healthy.

I'm not using it as such.

[The pain's manageable on the medication. He just wants the other effects from the alcohol.]

Mixing substances is really risky.

If you need more pain relief, just up how much you're taking. [Licking the popsicle mildly.]

[He's quiet a moment before actually sharing something.]

The medication is making me nauseous.

[Hence the crackers. And after resting so much the past few days, he can't sleep anymore, so there's another reason, and he really wants the more mind-numbing effects of the alcohol that the pain meds aren't giving him.]

[ 8( Caaaas.]

...Okay.

So.

Cut down your dose by half a pill and next time you take them, you can have a little to drink?

[Well. Guess who's at the end of their dosage and set to take the next in about fifteen minutes anyway? Good timing.]

How much?

[He's drifting back toward the liquor cabinet now.]

[Wheeeeeling up to cut you off there, Barney.]

I'll make it. What do you want?

[And there's a flash of temper at that, before he can suppress it.]

I'm capable of doing it.

[He sighs and pinches his nose.]

Cas. You've helped me in and out of my wheelchair about, what, eighty times now? I just... come on, I know you can, but.

[He almost looks like he's going to be stubborn about it, but the flare or attitude disappears as fast as it came. He backs off and leans against the counter once more, answering the initial question.]

It doesn't matter.

[Chuck presses his lips together and whips up a quick chocolate martini- a very small one, the equivalent of two shots.]

Here. Trust me- it's all you'll need.

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