Fifteenth PSI

[a_gentle_boy]

Stop it!  Stop going!  Stop . . . !

There's   . . . There's so much blood, I -- [Lucas breaks off and seems to gasp for breath for a few moments.  He is, in fact, covered with the stuff despite not having exchanged anything at all, having just finished helping NIc.]  The sidewalk . . . Everything . . . Even on the trees.  It's just like when

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[windmill]

[running up to him, scarf flying oh so dramatically in the wind] Lucas-?! Shit! Did you exchange anything-!? [assumes he's the injured one oh god.]

[a_gentle_boy]

[Lucas is a sight. His shoes are soaked, as is his left hand up to his elbow. Running away from the post office, he'd slipped and fallen so that it's all up his front and in his hair and unbeknownst to Lucas, his own blood is oozing out from a cut on his forehead.]

No. No no it wasn't me . . .

[windmill]

[taking a moment to process this, having already grabbed the kid by the shoulders and begun inspecting him possessively.] God...damnit. Who..? What happened?

[a_gentle_boy]

[Lucas is a bit like a rag doll.]

. . . A boy I talked to on the phone once. His leg . . .

[windmill]

...And this much blood...

[a_gentle_boy]

They just . . . tore it off. For everyone who lost something . . .

[windmill]

...Lucas. People are gonna do stupid things here. Regardless of warning. You know that.

[a_gentle_boy]

. . . But it was different before. We couldn't do anything to stop people from getting hurt in Westport or in Russia or those other times. Now . . .

I want to stop them.