[voice] forward-dated to much later in the day.
I'm calling in for an ambulance from Skye. I have a man with severe abdominal wounds and head injury, though that isn't the extent of the damage. He requires immediate emergency medical attention that I'm not equipped to provide. If you can--
[There's an interruption. The voice is a little far away, and oh, guess what. It's Big Boss. He's yelling at ( Read more... )
[There's an interruption. The voice is a little far away, and oh, guess what. It's Big Boss. He's yelling at ( Read more... )
[She's moving back toward him, frustrated, agitated, not looking forward to the rest of the evening at all.]
I mean, I tried to get that bleeding stopped, so-- Hey, stop doing that. [It's with a sigh that she catches his hand to pull it down away from his face, and... then she really looks at him.
She'd been focusing on his stomach, not his face. It isn't the fact that an eye is missing that shocks her. It's the fact that he is missing it, that he was allowed such an injury (when she is here and fully functioning, when she is just fine).
For a moment she can't speak.]
... I'm serious, just listen to me for now. I'd get you on the bike if I could but I can't. [Arm's gonna be busted for a while; she needs to pick bullets out. And it's a struggle but she's trying to keep her voice just as even as before. Panic is detrimental. Accomplish his safety first, Triela. Highest priority.
He doesn't seem very safe right now and she doesn't know what to do with herself.]
Keep your hand away from your face, geeze. You'll make a mess.
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[fine, he lets her take that hand away. it's not like he can do much probing around like that; he can't open his eye right now and a doctor would have to look at it later. he doesn't want to think about any permanent damage because, you know - he still got one eye left and can still fire a gun. that's all that really matters. the doctors here are good, they can fix that somehow. (nevermind that this time, its not just a muzzle flash and his eye is honest to god completely destroyed. the only thing they can do is remove the remains.)
he keeps holding onto trielas wrist, though, because even if he wouldn't admit it, complete darkness is a little scary. he's good at using his other senses too - hearing and feeling - but that's really all he has right now. what bothers him the most, though... he feels down her arm.]
I know you're shot. Is it just your arms? Don't make me feel you up like a creepy old man and be honest. How badly does it hurt?
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She doesn't want to be touched. Prodded. She wants to wrap him up and then rampage. But she lets him. Triela feels as though she's denying him enough by insisting on the ambulance. She won't pull away on top of everything else.]
It doesn't hurt badly. I've had worse.
[Hypocrisy.]
I have a headache and my arm feels heavy. I just need a little maintenance.
[With her other hand, she's reaching into her coat, rummaging. Has she used everything up on his stomach? No, there's a handkerchief, and her fingers smear it red as soon as she takes hold of it but it's going to have to do for now. At least it's something.
Starting an inch underneath his eye, she begins to wipe the blood from his face.]
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[he sighs and gives up, leaning against whatever they're sitting right now. there are a lot of sounds in the background, none of them particularly pleasing to the ear (especially the sirens), including a happy tune coming from one of the fairground rides. he manages to keep his breathing even, and hold still, though he doesnt let go of triela's arm. he's been in situations like these before, and almost always alone. he patched himself up somehow and survived - no big deal. he can handle it. just sucks that he cant even see HOW much blood he is losing; so all he can judge by is the pain, and to him any pain is bearable pain. so he doesn't ask 'how bad does it look'.]
Kaz will be pissed at me... [he mumbles, out of context. truth is, he's more pissed at himself - he knew kadaj and yazoo where dangerous, and suddenly there were three of them, and they don't bleed and how the hell do you even kill those guys. he'd thought he had enough info, but if even a bullet to the head doesn't do them in...
the worst part, though? he'd known this would happen. not clearly - he'd felt it, but becaue he rejects his ability, he'd discarded it all. its not important anyway as long as triela isn't badly injured.]
This was a stupid idea to begin with. I thought I could handle it - I shouldn't have involved you in this in the first place. [and, lets be honest, he'd also known that he wouldn't stand a chance against opponents like that - not as a mere mortal - but he'd take any excuse in order to feed his addiction. he only really regrets that he involved triela in something that was way too dangerous, but is glad that she's okay, for the most part. hopefully.] Can you reach into my right pouch, at the back? My cigars are there.
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Cigars are retrieved. Lighter. She sets the end of one against his lips and all she responds with, verbally, is,] I'm glad you involved me.
[The cigar is lit for him and she'll hold it in place if he needs her to. Even if the bullet holes in her arms halt function.
They won't, but the dedication is there. She rests her forehead against the side of his jaw and inhales shakily.]
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It'll be fine.
[one arm is broken, so he can't use that one, but she's leaning against him while being careful not to touch his wound but he doesn't care; his whole body is throbbing with pain from the crash and he's basically numb to it already anyway. so he places his arm around her waist instead and pulls her close and listens to her heartbeat. all they can do now is wait.]
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[It's stilted, the way she says it, as though she's fighting not to grit her teeth. She doesn't tremble but all of her goes bowstring taught. It isn't audible - Big Boss probably can't tell, thank God - but a couple of tears fall down to her cheeks. Only a very few. None of those reactions are due to physical pain. His arm is around her and Triela doesn't understand why she's being held when he's the one who's injured. It seems horribly unfair of her.
Yet there she is, not pulling away.
She's angry with their long-gone targets. She's furious with herself.
The police come but they haven't any time to pester; the ambulance is quickly behind them, and everything is flashing lights and yellow tape and running feet. The EMTs don't appreciate the cigar but there's so much else going on. Pulses are being checked. Triela's being moved away from Big Boss, which she openly hates; she cracks a man in the face with her elbow purely out of instinct when she's handled, and can only manage a very curt apology. Gurneys are being set up as rapidly as possible. Phrases are murmured - 'Lacerations,' 'Foreign object through the abdomen,' 'Numerous gunshot wounds to the arms,' 'Facial injury.' They try to get Triela to look away for when they begin to untangle Big Boss' body from where he'd fallen, but she'll have none of it.]
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