music seems to help the pain

[puttingonashow]

Who: puttingonashow, americafuckyou
What: Brayko is dragged off for medical treatment due to his bullet sponge nature, and the two finally have a chance to sit down and talk.
Where: Business District, at the hospital
When: Day after the station shoot-out.
Rating: PG-13 at the very most.
Notes: Updated as needed.

Comments

[puttingonashow]

The look aimed at Thorton as the man entered the room should have been all the answer that he needed. He'd tried to get Vicodin off the doctor once that morning, and he could only suspect the reason that the woman had refused. He had sat there for what felt like hours, left with only his pain, and cravings, and a few depressingly unattractive nurses for company. Despite Brayko's irritation, the agent was still a more welcome distraction than anything else right now, and he motioned to one of the chair's lining the opposite wall, handcuffs rattling where they secured him to the bed rail.

"If I say yes, can we get the fuck out of here already?" Listening to himself, he only hoped that he didn't look as bad as he sounded; exhausted, drained, and horribly sober. "Hospitals, they're not a very good place for me."

[puttingonashow]

Any tone was still better than the hard, icy, and entirely too professional one Brayko had been hearing far too often lately. He nodded absently, remained docile as Thorton redid the cuffs, though he still shot an irritated glare at the man as he did. And nothing could be done about the way he still tensed, even as he tried to force himself to relax.

"Doesn't mean that fat bastard can't still show up with a gun while I'm trapped here." Cynical? Only a little. It didn't matter that the whole thing may have been his own fault. He complied with the silent order with no resistance at all- definitely an improvement from earlier, even if it was only his own desire to get away from the place aiding his cooperation. He almost hissed as he stood, and had to bite his lip to keep the noise back as stiff joints cracked and fire flared up in his shoulder. He almost missed when Thorton pulled back his jacket, too, sparing only a quick, distracted glance the man's way at his comment

[puttingonashow]

The sudden change of pace actually caused Brayko to lose his footing for a moment, and he cursed.

"I do that, I'll probably eat concrete again." Because fuck, when Thorton played along, he was entirely too convincing, and Brayko had the sneaking suspicion the man had enjoyed it. But he kept his expression as clear as he could, save for the genuinely irritated look he sent Thorton as he forced himself to keep up with the agent's pace, and even let it filter into his voice for the benefit of anyone that may have been listening.

"Slow the fuck down, I'm injured."

[puttingonashow]

Gentle or not, it was still something he could appreciate, given the circumstances. And for the most part, it kept him quiet for the trip, though he couldn't hold back a snort to the man's reply.

The next question, though, made him pause. Really, is that something he was supposed to keep track of? It didn't help that he had to steadily take more and more just to reach the same high.

"Enough," he said after a few moments, with a small half-shrug. "Only about as much as the day you partycrashed. Maybe more."