Kaiba had not been subjected to such indignities in his whole time here. He has no point of reference for Yuugi's tolerance of such inhuman conditions.
What he does know is that even if there was a toilet in here, and he's too sick to confirm that, he wouldn't have had time to consider it. The poison still lingering in his body feels like a leaden weight in his stomach that hasn't moved at all. It's as if his insides have no idea what to do with it, freezing up entirely.
He's thirsty. Unbearably so. Dizzy, and still hearing things.
This...he wasn't entirely certain, but his education was...well-rounded. He's sure that he's read about poison like this, even if it wasn't one-to-one. If his guess is correct, this is an anticholinergic.
If his guess is right, the symptoms won't stop unless he expels the poison, and his digestive tract will not cooperate in the normal methods. That's fine. It's making him feel sick enough to get rid of it another way.
Shuddering, he peels his shirt off, whether he wants to or not. If the scientists want to fuck with him, he'll do it right back. He sets his wrinkled shirt before him, creating a buffer between the floor and what was to happen next.
Don't look at me, he manages to mouth, before curling over the bundled-up shirt and letting the illness win. It looks pathetic. He knows it does, but it has a purpose, to vomit up the barely digested cupcake back onto his shirt.
He's doing it for a reason.
It doesn't matter that it burns like fire once he can't stop himself, and there's nothing else coming up.
It doesn't matter that Yuugi can see his skin stretched more tautly over his bones, as if he hasn't had a proper meal in a year. It's not for lack of trying, but...his health was poor before he came here, made worse by his time in the facility, where the food was a step above animal grade, certainly not enough for a recovering coma patient.
It didn't matter.
It shouldn't matter.
But Kaiba doesn't straighten back up, even when the nausea subsides, and he's expelled as much of the poison as his body could manage. So clearly, there's some shame there.
cw; emeto, malnutrition
What he does know is that even if there was a toilet in here, and he's too sick to confirm that, he wouldn't have had time to consider it. The poison still lingering in his body feels like a leaden weight in his stomach that hasn't moved at all. It's as if his insides have no idea what to do with it, freezing up entirely.
He's thirsty. Unbearably so. Dizzy, and still hearing things.
This...he wasn't entirely certain, but his education was...well-rounded. He's sure that he's read about poison like this, even if it wasn't one-to-one. If his guess is correct, this is an anticholinergic.
If his guess is right, the symptoms won't stop unless he expels the poison, and his digestive tract will not cooperate in the normal methods. That's fine. It's making him feel sick enough to get rid of it another way.
Shuddering, he peels his shirt off, whether he wants to or not. If the scientists want to fuck with him, he'll do it right back. He sets his wrinkled shirt before him, creating a buffer between the floor and what was to happen next.
Don't look at me, he manages to mouth, before curling over the bundled-up shirt and letting the illness win. It looks pathetic. He knows it does, but it has a purpose, to vomit up the barely digested cupcake back onto his shirt.
He's doing it for a reason.
It doesn't matter that it burns like fire once he can't stop himself, and there's nothing else coming up.
It doesn't matter that Yuugi can see his skin stretched more tautly over his bones, as if he hasn't had a proper meal in a year. It's not for lack of trying, but...his health was poor before he came here, made worse by his time in the facility, where the food was a step above animal grade, certainly not enough for a recovering coma patient.
It didn't matter.
It shouldn't matter.
But Kaiba doesn't straighten back up, even when the nausea subsides, and he's expelled as much of the poison as his body could manage. So clearly, there's some shame there.
What kind of rival is he, reduced to this state?