(no subject)
Wesley had long delayed the disposal of the syringe that had contained enough tranquilizer to put down three large men, two horses, or one Slayer temporarily. It had remained sitting in his hut and every day he woke up to the terrible thought that something would happen to it, that someone might break in and rob them of it and unknowingly use it.
He had wrapped it gently and carefully in something like a dishtowel he had nabbed from the kitchen and now was directly on a path for the Lab.
He supposed there was some good use to be had of the tranquilizer in capable hands. The Watchers' Council likely hadn't counted on the serum being used to possibly take down dinosaurs in the event of an emergency, but then, perhaps they had and it was filed away on some ancient scroll, locked up in the labyrinth of bookcases and hallways the stuffy rooms possessed.
He was careful, but anxious as he entered the Compound, heart racing ten kilometres a moment. He was close, very close, but rather nervous and when he got terribly nervous, he tended to be an absolute klutz, possessing two left feet and in some cases, his right hand had been known to become a left foot as well. It was how he had broken a priceless Ming vase the once with an ancient Sartorian Dagger of the Kux-lan Clan while insulting Mrs. Smythe's fur stole in the process.
But he was close. Provided he didn't trip into anyone and the loose cap stayed atop the syringe, disaster could be avoided.
[Really, when there's a gun in the first act, and so on...If you want your pup getting hit with an INCREDIBLY STRONG TRANQUILIZER, write it in. Wes will do his best to bring you around.]
He had wrapped it gently and carefully in something like a dishtowel he had nabbed from the kitchen and now was directly on a path for the Lab.
He supposed there was some good use to be had of the tranquilizer in capable hands. The Watchers' Council likely hadn't counted on the serum being used to possibly take down dinosaurs in the event of an emergency, but then, perhaps they had and it was filed away on some ancient scroll, locked up in the labyrinth of bookcases and hallways the stuffy rooms possessed.
He was careful, but anxious as he entered the Compound, heart racing ten kilometres a moment. He was close, very close, but rather nervous and when he got terribly nervous, he tended to be an absolute klutz, possessing two left feet and in some cases, his right hand had been known to become a left foot as well. It was how he had broken a priceless Ming vase the once with an ancient Sartorian Dagger of the Kux-lan Clan while insulting Mrs. Smythe's fur stole in the process.
But he was close. Provided he didn't trip into anyone and the loose cap stayed atop the syringe, disaster could be avoided.
[Really, when there's a gun in the first act, and so on...If you want your pup getting hit with an INCREDIBLY STRONG TRANQUILIZER, write it in. Wes will do his best to bring you around.]