(Untitled)

[rompot_iisous]

WHO: John Connor, generally open to Dependables.
WHERE: Atatla Hotel - John Connor's Room
WHEN: Friday, Saturday, Maybe Sunday. Loose with time here. Damn those Connors. DAMN THEM.
WARNINGS: None yet, I'll edit if that changes. Connor Cursing, I guess?
SUMMARY: BY FAR the most 'exciting' part of any action movie, obviously, is the part where the

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Saturday, evening, after shit at the bar.

[terminatefate]

It wasn't her fault this time around. She'd been lucky that she made it out of that fucking bar with less than a broken bottle to her head and a few bruises. Nothing was jammed, she could rotate her should just fine, and her fingers weren't broken. Considering the mayhem, Sarah was mildly satisfied with the outcome.

"Motherfucking fuckers," she hissed, slipping into the hotel room and heading straight towards the first aid kit she'd meticulously packed for the trip. Her fact, actually, remained untouched save for a few scrapes where flying glass had caught her cheek. She brought out the mirror she packed and, after pulling her hair put and out of the way, surveyed the damage.

Lovely.

Scalp wounds bled profusely as a rule, but she could see a few chunks and slivers of glass that had been nicely embedded. She let a slow breath out. That was probably why she felt nauseous and why she had been dizzy for the last forty minutes. Sarah grimaced as she fitted the tap water filter to the faucet and began to efficiently clean around the glass.

It hurt like hell, but Sarah remained wordless as she worked.

OH MY.

[rompot_iisous]

John wasn't exactly deaf, and their rooms were connected by that bathroom. So, you know, John could hear all that puttering about and whatnot coming from the bathroom, and took a minor break from his hackery-dackery to go and knock on the bathroom door. "...are you okay?"

(LIONS & TIGERS & BEARS IN MEXICO?)

[terminatefate]

"Nothing life threatening," she said, sponging around a tender area. "Motherfucking kangarooman decided to punch some dickfuck narco in the face. Bar went up like it was una fiesta especial para pendejas. Getting to the goddamn door without a knife wound was lucky as hell."

She grimaced.

"Grab the tweezers? Some assfuck decided I looked like I needed a fucking Coke." Upside the head. There were pieces she could feel but not see. "I was trying to let you work, but, as long as you're here..." Sarah gestured with the bloody towel, exasperated with events in general.

BUT NO TINMAN

[rompot_iisous]

"Kangarooman." Snorting, and grabbing the tweezers. "Jesus fucking christ. Hold still." What the hell does it say about him that pulling glass out of his mother (or a reasonable version thereof) was not an unknown factor? Or that he barely even blinked at it.

(TINMAN IS BUSY AT BALLET?)

[terminatefate]

"Fucking Aussie." She scowled and grit her teeth, grinding the words out without moving her head. "Granted, I might have punched el bastardo, too. I might have actually done it outside, though. Igniting the bar will get faces fucking remembered."

She braced herself against the sink and closed her eyes, letting the pain wash through her.

"I was in there soaking up el chisme," she spat, "not to get my ass in a fight with the local culeros. It was fine until everyone started punching everyone else. Fucking Mexico."

OH RIGHT

[rompot_iisous]

"What did he even get in a fight over? Who else was there?" He can't even imagine Bauer would be happy over that.

Re: OH RIGHT

[terminatefate]

"El Narco was extorting a local for money he owed," Sarah murmured. "Bauer, Frank, Trowa, Geddoe," there was a shrug, "just enough for cracked skulls and the usual gamut of pissed off broken faced chulos."

[rompot_iisous]

John rolled his eyes slightly, finishing up with the glass."Well. So much for staying under the radar."

[terminatefate]

"My thoughts exactly," Sarah growled. "That glass didn't go deep enough for stitches did it?" She didn't think so, but then again, she couldn't really judge. It had to be the back of her goddamn head, didn't it? She was prepared for stitches anyway, just like she was prepared for an earthquake.

Her head throbbed and she scowled, even though that made it worse. Too much tension. Her fingers reached to inspect the damage.

[rompot_iisous]

"No, no stitches. Hold still. Don't make faces and don't touch. Jesus christ."

[terminatefate]

Sarah scowled even more fiercely, but dropped her itching fingers, letting them curl into fists at her sides as she all but sulked. No stitches was good, at least. Instead of immediately shooting back something smartass, she went over the fight at the bar.

"It doesn't make sense," she muttered. "I get that some of these assholes are out for justice and righting wrongs, but...fucking doing that in the bar was stupid as hell. Fucking kangaroo." Her brows furrowed.

"I was actually going to bring you some coffee," she added, like that's what she'd been talking about all along. Sarah's voice slid to dry and decidedly amused. "Figured you wouldn't want blood in it, though. Ruins the fucking flavor."

[rompot_iisous]

"Yeah, I'm kind of anti-vampirism." A slight smirk, and shaking his head. "Thanks for the thought, though."

[terminatefate]

"Anti-vampirism," she tried to snort lightly and without shaking her head and partially succeeded. "You're welcome. I do try to think a little more these days," Sarah added, the urge to laugh tearing her eyes just a little before she turned the water back on nice and hot. The filter was damn good--it'd do its job of filtering most of the harmful shit out of the water.

She soaped up her hands and up to her elbows, carefully, and rinsed them until her skin was red--only then satisfied that she was clean. Sarah did it without moving too much--just a lean here and there.

"You coming along okay?" she asked after a moment of silence.

[rompot_iisous]

Watching her and then glancing back at his computer system. A quick poke at it, and then looking at her again. "Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I be?" A headache, but really. He'd been up for how long with how much caffeine?

[terminatefate]

"Been at it awhile," she murmured, neatly towel drying her arms before glancing at him in the mirror. "And you look tired," her lips twisted again, pulling out amusement, "and wired. You'll get sleep soon?"

That was the Mom voice rearing--she couldn't help that. Not in a million fucking years. His face was tight, too, like the set of his shoulders. Sarah popped the top on an Advil bottle and shook out six before turning to face him. Her fingertips touched his chin lightly and she let out the barest of huffs before putting three pills into his palm.

"Soon, John," she murmured. Her eyebrows arched as she knocked back her pills and chased it with a gulp from her own bottle of water.

Be a good girl and take your medicine, Sarah.

She ignored the ghost of Pescadero that followed her every time she took a pill and focused on John's face.

"Promise?" Her palm cupped his cheek gently and was gone an instant later.

[rompot_iisous]

He took the Advil, knowing it probably would not even remotely put a dent in his headache. "Soon." Sooner or later, anyway. Probably later, knowing him. Probably a lot later, if he could help it.