a change of season
Raylan squinted up at the carnival that suddenly appeared on the horizon, signalling he'd turned up back in the nexus. He found it, at the moment, hard to care as much as he probably should about the fact he was no longer walking toward an emergency room.
It had been a long-ass day, and Stigmata was still free, if he could make it there. The fact he'd been shot was a minor consideration. Gut wound wasn't going to kill him. ...right away.
He wondered what would happen, if he died in Xanadu. Probably more or less the same thing that would happen if he died anywhere else, whatever that was.
Shaking off that line of thought (he'd no desire to see who'd be waiting him on the other side of that particular door), he headed into town, keeping an eye out for something like a doctor's office. If he makes it to Stigmata, at least he could clean the wound, he guessed. He moved slow, hatless, and with a hand pressing his flannel shirt to his side.
It had been a long-ass day, and Stigmata was still free, if he could make it there. The fact he'd been shot was a minor consideration. Gut wound wasn't going to kill him. ...right away.
He wondered what would happen, if he died in Xanadu. Probably more or less the same thing that would happen if he died anywhere else, whatever that was.
Shaking off that line of thought (he'd no desire to see who'd be waiting him on the other side of that particular door), he headed into town, keeping an eye out for something like a doctor's office. If he makes it to Stigmata, at least he could clean the wound, he guessed. He moved slow, hatless, and with a hand pressing his flannel shirt to his side.