5: {in which Hanna has a brush with death and not his own} {Closed Commentlog}

[gneeisnotanoise]

[His hands are shaking when he gains consciousness again, he can't keep himself awake. He keeps trying to check Attika's body for vital signs, but he can't remember if he feels them before he slips out of consciousness over and over. His body is trying to shut down, restart, bring him back to speed after the misfire, but he can't let himself do it

Comments

[gneeisnotanoise]

[Hanna balks for a moment when his partner covers her. The small sound that escapes Hanna's mouth is something of a whimper or a whine, devoid of pitch, quiet and weak and entirely helpless. The tug at his elbow is almost unnoticed-- Hanna unfolds like a marionette being pulled out of a trunk. He's got no control over any of his figurative strings and hangs heavily in {...}'s grip. On his forearm is the rune he'd written as an attempt at amplifying his attack against Attika, one of three vertical lines defiantly squiggles away from the rest, sketched out to be longer than the others on accident.

As fogged up as his mind is, he hasn't realized quite that Worth not being around would seriously compound problems. He shouldn't still be this weak after something like that, that really wasn't that bad, it'd happened before after casting plenty of times, especially when he was still learning, and he'd gone on to basically run a marathon up stairs and things of the like.

This is weird and Hanna can't keep his head about him long enough to put together why.]

No, no, no, it wasn't supposed to happen like this...

[bossfedora]

[Right okay then. Hanna's in bad shape, and he's too stunned by what happened to get to his feet, let alone stay up on them. So his partner grunts and -murmuring an apology- scoops up Hanna before heading for his room.

He'll lay him down there and then decide what to do after. He's not sure if Hanna would trust the ship's medic with his health, so if necessary he can always take him there later after Hanna's in good enough shape to tell him if it's all right.]

[gneeisnotanoise]

[Hanna's completely conked out by the time they make it to {...}'s room, his brain demanding an immediate reset. He's not aware of how long he's out-- several hours, at least-- before he sits up very suddenly.

And immediately has to lie back down with a groan. It's like having a hangover. His glasses are not on his face, though and he has to squint to figure out where he is.]

....is this my room?

[bossfedora]

Mine.

[He stands and heads over to Hanna's bedside, sitting on the edge of the mattress and holding out his glasses for him. Definitely wouldn't have wanted to forget those.]

How do you feel?

[gneeisnotanoise]

Uh.

[He takes the glasses, his hand much, much steadier than before. The contrast between the colors of their skin was a bit more stark than usual, as pale as Hanna was right now.]

Hungover. Hungover's a good word.

[bossfedora]

[Sounds unpleasant.

He gets up to fetch Hanna a glass of water, because his mouth probably tastes like blood and other gross things.]

Here.

[gneeisnotanoise]

Thanks.

[He's able to crack a grin at the gesture and swallows half the glass-- his throat is dried out and raw. The taste of iron washes away quickly much to his relief. He sets it aside and looks at his hands, still splotched with brown, dried blood now. His glasses slip from his nose, just slightly.

Finally, he says something else.]

Thanks for... bringing me here. Better than sleeping on the floor.

[bossfedora]

Don't mention it. [Like he was seriously going to just leave Hanna there to collapse face-first into his own blood-vomit.]

Are you steady enough to shower? I can get you a change of clothes while you do. [Since Hanna's clothes are all back in his room.]

[gneeisnotanoise]

[He rubs at his chest lightly, thumb rubbing over a staple under the fabric.]

Yeah, I should... probably do that. I probably've got the funk going on, and not the good kind.

[He shifts to the side of the bed, standing without his usual flying bound out of the bed. He's a bit wobbly on his feet, but stills when he looks down at his clothes, splattered with his own blood on the knees of his jeans.]

Blegh, that's kinda legit nasty.

[bossfedora]

I'll get something for you, then.

[He stands as well and collects the card to get back to Hanna's room, pocketing it.]

...we can talk later.

[gneeisnotanoise]

[His trademark queasy smile spreads across his face and his shoulders draw up to his ears. He knows he owes his buddy an explanation at the very least.]

We will.

[And with that, he ducks into the bathroom, yanking the door shut unceremoniously behind him.]

[bossfedora]

[And as he does that, his partner will indeed fetch him a new set of clothes (as well as something to drink and maybe something to eat). He doesn't want to bully Hanna into an explanation, but he'd at least like to know if they should expect retaliation of any kind.]

[gneeisnotanoise]

[He leans out of the bathroom about fifteen minutes later, a towel wrapped around his skinny hips. He can't do anything about hiding his scars-- the only shirt he has is disgusting, he didn't want to put it back on. He's mostly seeing if his buddy is there.]

[bossfedora]

[Yup, he's right on the couch reading a book that appears to be...uh, 'Men Are From Mars, Women are from Venus.' Okay.

When the bathroom door opens {...} glances up and takes note of the staples and scars. He doesn't mention them though, and just points the book toward Hanna's bed, standing.] Your clothes are right there. I'll be outside.

[And he ducks out of the room to give Hanna some privacy to change.]