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Meg is working very hard at not scratching her chicken pox. Because scratching is bad. Infections. Scars. General unpleasantness.

She will just have to find something else to focus on.

Other than worrying about things at home.

She really should have asked Edward for some books she hasn't already read.

Or crossword puzzles.

Meg surveys her choices again and finally picks Jane of Lantern Hill, then settles back into bed to read.

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"Eeep. Back in bed!"

And, because she knows that Meg will be as unmovable as Gandalf on that bridge in the dwarf mines if she doesn't answer, Parker adds:

"Second grade. I looked like a 'before' picture in a Proactive ad."

Meg opens the door enough to let Parker come into the room.

"You know I have no idea what that means, right?" she asks, though she's doing a fair impression of it, herself. She's thoroughly covered in little red spots, which are in turn covered in pale pink calamine lotion.

Meg settles back onto the bed.

"It's nice to see you."

"You too. Germs and all."

Parker's brought a companion. Namely a small dolly cart with a largish plastic crate and a duffel bag bungied to it. She wheels it over to the desk and then turns to survey Meg.

"Can I hug you, or does stuff hurt?"

It's been a while since her own outbreak. She can't remember how much aches and pains played a role in it.

Edited 2012-03-30 02:27 (UTC)

"Unless you're planning to hug incredibly vigorously, that should be fine," Meg says, after a glance at Parker's dolly cart and plastic crate and duffel bag.

"Good."

Parker gives Meg a long squeeze. (She's probably getting calamine lotion in her hair, and doesn't give a damn.)

"How are you feeling? Better?"

Meg nods.

"Much better than I was.

"Dr. Cullen found me downstairs.

"I was very, very feverish."

"Yeah, I heard."

And hadn't Parker been just a bit worried? Even knowing Meg was in good hands.

"How long are you stuck here recuperating?"

"Once all the spots have crusted over -- as gross as that sounds -- I'm not contagious anymore, and then I can at least go downstairs. That shouldn't be too much longer.

"But I'm probably not going to be able to go home until they've cleared up.

"You can't just have the second half of a case of chickenpox, you know?"

Edited 2012-03-30 02:45 (UTC)

"Yeah. That would be a little hard to explain."

That's when the X-Files-esque people show up in HAZMAT suits with their bubble tents.

"Well, I have a clear calendar, and I have stuff for you."

She might have gone a bit crazy on the care package front, but hey.

"So I see," Meg says.

"That's not a body you need help hiding or anything, is it?"

Because Meg's not up to that yet.

Laura would be a better choice.

"It'll keep until you're back on your feet. That's why God created walk-in freezers."

Parker pauses to think.

"Though, you know? If you ever DID need to get rid of a body, Milliways would be the ideal place. I mean, how the heck would you get a warrant?"

Aaaaanyway.

Parker begins to unload the cart.

"I have all sorts of stuff to keep you from getting too bored, and hopefully distract from the itching."

Meg watches the unpacking with amusement.

"Did you leave anything downstairs?"

"A few sticks of furniture. Maybe."

The first thing to come out is a laptop.

"Unfortunately, you don't have internet access here, but..." Parker dives back into the pile, coming up with a handful of DVDs. "You can play these."

"Mostly light stuff. Some romantic comedy. Some action adventure. Nothing gross or heavy."

"You'll have to show me how all that works," Meg says.

The technology is a bit advanced, for a girl from 1991.

"But movies would be nice.

"Thank you."

"I will. It's pretty easy once you get the hang of it."

"I also brought some light reading."

The books she holds up look to be of the mystery and Jane Austen persuasion.

"And some smutty reading."

Yes, that's a highlander in a kilt feeling up a Pirate Queen, by the look of the cover.

Meg laughs. "Um, thank you.

"I think."

Highlanders and Pirate Queens and all.

"Chapter 8. Really good."

The book is added to the pile on the desk.

The next item to come out is a large tupperware container.

"Luis went on a baking binge yesterday. I have all sorts of cookies."

"Sugar, of course, being vital to the recuperative process."

"Oh, yes," Meg says. "I remember reading that in all the most respected medical journals. Cookies for better health.

"Did anything prompt the baking binge?"

"I don't know. He just takes these fits sometimes. We've tried to tie it to a phase of the moon, but we've never found a pattern."

Parker shakes the box.

"He makes this one called a Mexican Hot Chocolate cookie. It's like a brownie with a kick if cayenne. They're addictive."

She sets the box of cookies aside and comes up with a half-dozen soft-backed book.

"Puzzle books. To keep your brain occupied."

"Sounds interesting," Meg says.

Brownies with cayenne.

"Oh, I'd been thinking I should ask someone to bring me crossword puzzles. Thank you."

"It seemed like they'd be up your alley."

Parker pulls one last basket out of the 'magic' dolley.

"And some odds and ends. Girly stuff, mostly. Some nail polish. Hair ties. This oatmeal lotion stuff that's supposed to keep you from itching."

She grins.

"You know. Necessities."

"So I can paint my ridiculously short nails," Meg says, with a grin.

"Thank you, Parker.

"That's really nice of you."

"Hey, what are friends for?"

Parker settles down on the foot of Meg's bed.

"Want me to hang out for a bit, or do you need to rest?"

"Company would actually be great, if you have time," Meg says.

"I'm doing way too much sitting in here and thinking."

"It's Milliways. I have all the time in multiple universes."

Parker folds up her legs, making herself more comfortable.

"What are you thinking about?"