[closed]
Characters: You Haibara, Choushiro Kirishima
Location:Horrorspital
Rating: R for Really Fucking Creepy
Time: December 18
Description: Choushiro got a stabbing, and needs a few stitches. if only it were that simple.
His arrival to the hospital had been the same, he expected, as almost everyone else the attacker had hit- and Choushiro knew he hadn't been the only one. It was a flurry of activity when he limped in half thrown over Sakura Haruno's shoulder, and as he'd refused to let her finish healing him in lew of getting somewhere his expertise might be of some use- he was even more ashen when they came under the flouresence of medical lights.
One look at him, and the medics had rushed to take him from her. It wasn't the first time he'd been assaulted, but gun wounds and switchblades didn't have much on the blade that clown had used on him. As it stood, the entire left side of his white oxford was a deep crimson, a pool of red that had seeped grotesquely to gather in his trousers and drip down his leg. There was a spot of blood on his shoe. They took him and told him to calm down, and he didn't have much of a chance to thank the young girl for saving his life when he was trying to rattle off descriptions under the hitching of his breath.
Eventually, though, they manhandled him into one of the beds and paged one of the doctors. They were all busy. Choushiro spared a thought to wonder if most of them hadn't gone to the European crisis. But either way, it left him laying flat on a gurney, lashes wet with sweat and blinking up at the ceiling.
Location:Horrorspital
Rating: R for Really Fucking Creepy
Time: December 18
Description: Choushiro got a stabbing, and needs a few stitches. if only it were that simple.
His arrival to the hospital had been the same, he expected, as almost everyone else the attacker had hit- and Choushiro knew he hadn't been the only one. It was a flurry of activity when he limped in half thrown over Sakura Haruno's shoulder, and as he'd refused to let her finish healing him in lew of getting somewhere his expertise might be of some use- he was even more ashen when they came under the flouresence of medical lights.
One look at him, and the medics had rushed to take him from her. It wasn't the first time he'd been assaulted, but gun wounds and switchblades didn't have much on the blade that clown had used on him. As it stood, the entire left side of his white oxford was a deep crimson, a pool of red that had seeped grotesquely to gather in his trousers and drip down his leg. There was a spot of blood on his shoe. They took him and told him to calm down, and he didn't have much of a chance to thank the young girl for saving his life when he was trying to rattle off descriptions under the hitching of his breath.
Eventually, though, they manhandled him into one of the beds and paged one of the doctors. They were all busy. Choushiro spared a thought to wonder if most of them hadn't gone to the European crisis. But either way, it left him laying flat on a gurney, lashes wet with sweat and blinking up at the ceiling.