If it's a bad day, you try to suffocate

[lasttimeilost]

Chicago's a rough city to be in any day of the week, but for some people it's rougher today than it has been in a while.

Leon Warner is laying on his side in a puddle from the rain yesterday, protecting his head from the poorly-aimed kicks of the group of larger boys around him. Oddly enough, he didn't ask for this fight, it just came to him, and

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[yourwonderings]

Jo's not going to immediately recognize Vaughn. It would be hard to with his face covered by damp grass. Of, Michael Vaughn. The things the Rift does to you. She is, however, in a hurry to get to work and nearly trips on him. It has her jumping over him.

"Jesus," she says under her breath, pushing the hair out of her face.

That'll teach her to trust an alarm clock. She takes a few steps back, eyes widening slightly once she gets a good look at him. "Vaughn?"

Crap. She kneels down before him and nudges him from the side so that he'll flip over. "Michael!"

[stillaboyscout]

Vaughn moans as he's rolled over and shouted at. His head hurts. Why does his head hurt? And why is he all wet?

He opens his eyes slowly. Is he hungover? Shapes are blurry at first, but slowly everything falls into place as he blinks a couple of times.

"Jo?" he asks. And then there are things above her head, trees and there's green at the edge of his vision, and it must be grass or something. He's in a fucking forest. "Where..." he shuts his eyes again, trying to ignore the pounding headache that is sending white bursts of pain to the nerves behind his eyes.

He's a little slow this morning, Jo. You'll have to forgive him.

[yourwonderings]

Yeah, in retrospect, shouting at a most-likely-unconscious man wasn't a good idea. The concern won out over being reasonable. Jo's often led by her impulses, what can the narration say? She winces at the reaction, and definitely lowers her voice when she speaks next.

"Take it easy," she advises, cupping the back of his neck with her hand and ensuring he doesn't get up too fast. Does he have a concussion?

Jo really hopes he does not have a concussion.

"How many fingers am I holding up here?" she asks once he starts to come to, wiggling three of them.

[stillaboyscout]

Vaughn had actually been thinking about getting up, but he realizes that's probably a bad plan. Sometimes he's not as dumb as he looks.

He opens his eyes again when she asks her question. His vision is fine--no concussion, thank goodness. "Three," he says, his voice much stronger than it was now that he's had some time to actually wake up. "I'm fine, I just." Can't remember how I got here. Don't know what happened to me last night. Possibly got drunk, even though I don't remember drinking at all. "I'm fine," he repeats instead of going with any of those options. "My head just hurts."

Also the two dollars he had in his pockets are gone, but he doesn't know that yet, and probably won't. The mugger pretty much picked the incorrect victim last night.

[yourwonderings]

Jo doesn't think he looks dumb at all! She breathes a sigh of relief when he answers, dropping her hand back to her side. It isn't that she likes jumping to the worst conclusion, but in Chicago... She keeps the one hand tucked at the back of his head, just in case.

"Jeez, Michael. Who did you piss off?" she asks with a slight smirk. Now that she knows he's more or less okay, she's going to give him a bit of a hard time. It's how she rolls with buddies, Vaughn. "I can get you some aspirin for that headache back at the Crowbar."

She'll also help him get to his feet, whether he protests or not.

Jo's stubborn like that.

[stillaboyscout]

Vaughn laughs and then winces, because apparently laughing hurts his head or something. He quickly grins at her, just to let her know that he's okay, though. He doens't want her to worry.

"If only I knew," he says. "I'd find a way to pay them off." He starts to sit up, because he can't stay here in the grass forever.

"I can go by myself," he protests. "I mean. I'm fine, it's just a headache." And some missing hours, but he doesn't need to tell her that.

[yourwonderings]

You get a look, Vaughn.

It is a look that, under no uncertain terms, is she leaving you here on the grass after you've been mugged. Jo stands up along with him, brushing away the grass that clings to her denim jeans.

She quirks up a brow and says to him rather matter-of-factly, "You realize I'm not taking no for an answer here?"

[stillaboyscout]

Vaughn laughs and winces again. In theory by now, he'd have learned to stop doing that, but. Yeah. He ought to have realized that.

"It was worth a shot, anyway," he says. "You know. Just how it goes."

His head is throbbing as he stands, and there's a moment of unsteadiness, but really, he's fine. He's going to say so, too.

"Seriously, Jo. I'm fine." He blinks to clear his vision, putting a hand to his pounding head. It would help a lot if he could remember just how he got there, but. He doesn't have to worry Jo with those details.

[yourwonderings]

"I know," she says with a soft smirk, "We'll just have to play the game every time something like this comes up."

And since they live in a city like Chicago, it's entirely possible it will, not that she has any lack of faith in you, Vaughn.

"You don't look fine and I know you're not fine, so will you quit acting like I'm gonna leave you alone? I'm not, so start moving," she says, linking an arm around his and leading him toward the Crowbar.

She's a bit of a pistol, this one.

[stillaboyscout]

Vaughn smiles a little bit. "Sorry I'm a slow learner," he tells her.

THAT'S an understatement. The opportunity for that discussion to happen again will almost undoubtedly come up again, as Vaughn continues to venture out into Chicagoland without a weapon to defend himself. That's just how he rolls--accident prone as hell.

"I am fine, though," he argues, but he does move along with her, because she told him to and if there's one thing Vaughn is damn good at, it's following orders. "Just need an aspirin or something." Totally.