40 shots fired.
Sorry I ain't been around the Network today. Got my own troubles to tend to. And blood all over. Near as I can see, this's a curse goin' down, and a fierce one. Just to remind us that they ain't all so nice as havin' pets of our souls, maybe.
Everyone all right? Need any If you I can
I can't really do nothin' to stop no part of this thing, can I? ( Read more... )
Everyone all right? Need any If you I can
I can't really do nothin' to stop no part of this thing, can I? ( Read more... )
Omar doesn't wake up immediately. He's used to waking up at loud noises, to be sure, but this is something rather different. It's a good ten or fifteen minutes later that he starts to shift in his sleep, and that's when the pain and the dripping blood get through to him.
He's still for a long moment, his eyes wide, blood soaking into the pillow and the sheets around his chest, as he tries to figure out just what's happening.
Then he slips out of bed--as quietly as possible; he doesn't see any need to disturb Zev as well--and heads for the bathroom, one hand pressed up against his face.
He'll deal with the wounds of twenty years of crime and four months in the City there.]
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He wakes up quickly with that stimulus and stares at the bloodstain on his sheets for a good minute before his brain actually kicks in. Then he's out of the bed pretty damn quickly.]
Omar.
[He goes to the bathroom and knocks on the door in warning before opening the door.]
What in god's name is going... on?
[And hello blood covered boyfriend. This is Zev staring at you.]
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He's leaning against the sink now, a wet towel pressed against his face, blood rapidly soaking through it. Several more wounds have opened up on his chest--the big slash and the gunshot scar from before the City, plus the shallower, barely-scarring scratches from shortly after his arrival and the gunshot wound from his encounter with Loki. The blood from those is starting to soak through his boxers and trickle to the floor.
When he speaks, his voice is a strained mix of professional calm and startled pain.]
Some kind of curse, ain't it?
Sorry 'bout your things. Ain't gonna be easy cleanin' up the blood.
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Don't apologize. I can just buy some new things.
[A few swift steps and he's grabbing the first aid kit from under the sink and pulling out quite possibly the largest roll of gauze ever seen outside a hospital. He stocked up after the mini-cthulu attack.]
It has to be a curse.
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Was gonna ask you where the bandages was.
[He starts to take the towel away from his face, but the wound there just keeps bleeding. Grimacing, he hurriedly runs some water through the towel and holds it to his face again.]
You all right? I can't see so good right now. All the blood...
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[He's already working on bandaging some of most severe of Omar's chest wounds since they're probably the most serious.]
Make sure you put pressure on that to try and stem the bleeding.
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--yeah.
[Zev is probably right--the long slash there and the bullet wounds are definitely accounting for most of the blood loss, as dramatic and unsettling as the gash on his face is. After a moment, Omar picks up some of the gauze himself and starts to wrap it around his head. Not exactly stylish, but it works.]
Long as they all heal up again come next midnight, I ought to be able to hold out all right.
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