When all was said and done, Jono could honestly say that he'd had better days. Sure, he'd had worse days. His life, it seemed, was an endless parade of worse days, all vying for a position at the top of the worst-days ladder.
(
At the moment, this one was pretty high up there. )
...And to see if he was over his desire to murder her. You know, that too. That was important.
Ring ring ring!
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Painkillers that didn't exactly help him all that much. Not when answering his phone had started, initially, with a failed attempt to reach to where it was sitting next to his hospital bed with his stitched-and-bound left arm.
He was still swearing when he got the receiver to his mouth, with Miranda's help.
"-Bloody sonofa motherfu-"
"Told you to let me hand it to you, blue boy."
"Hello."
Jono was stubborn. And trying to live down the whole princess-carry thing, with little success. So if his answer was a touch terse... well...
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You know. In a hospital bed. With weeping puncture wounds in his arm and leg. Good times.
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You shut up, Jon. She was allowed to be a hypocrite if she wanted to. You were about to be, so nyah.
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Yeah, he had to think about that one. For... a long moment, there.
"I'm safe?"
He didn't sound sure about that, really. But then, Jono didn't have great experiences in hospitals in the first place.
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Stop picking up her mannerisms, Jono. Especially the ones that get you in trouble.
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"I am safe right now. In the hospital. They gave me morphine."
"Oxycodone, Jono."
"That too."
Drugs were drugs. Right? That's how it worked?
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"..."
"..."
"WHY ARE YOU IN THE HOSPITAL ON MORPHINE?!?"
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"Oxycodone," Miranda supplied, helpfully. Because she was the one who used to sort of specialize in messing with the crap running through a person's bloodstream, and all.
"There was a... Underground. Big Machine... smith."
"Machinesmith, Jono."
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Look, where Jono was from, everyone wore pretty tight pants.
"Yes?"
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"If she's talking about sense, she's asking for me, Blue. Give me that."
There wasn't much protest from Jono as Miranda snatched the phone, considering it came along with a raised fist, poised to chuck him in the shoulder a good one.
"Hey. Blondie?"
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One that was close to coherent, even?
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Wasn't that great to hear, Karla?
Ish?
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