(no subject)
Eden's had enough of the clinic. She's not going to the bloody clinic. She's got a bandage made from a torn t-shirt wrapped around her calf where the kid stuck her with his spear. She can bear her weight on it well enough, so she's at least pretty sure he didn't take out any tendons, just tore flesh. It hurts, but not badly enough to keep her off it. Not when she made a promise to Austin, anyway.
But she's not going to the bloody clinic.
There's a doctor on the ITF. She's seen him work, and she knows that he's around here somewhere. The little moppet iwth the blonde curls belongs to him, anyway, and that's her pink birthday cake of a house.
"Rollie?" She mis-steps and jars her leg, pain shooting through the wound. "Jesus Christ."
But she's not going to the bloody clinic.
There's a doctor on the ITF. She's seen him work, and she knows that he's around here somewhere. The little moppet iwth the blonde curls belongs to him, anyway, and that's her pink birthday cake of a house.
"Rollie?" She mis-steps and jars her leg, pain shooting through the wound. "Jesus Christ."