(no subject)
"Stupid hero complex, not listening," a hiss of pain, "just rushing in. Didn't even REALIZE the kids weren't going to listen without an explanation. One time she's not even around to help. Him and his hyper, ow, focused detectiving impulses!"
At current, Christie was ranting to herself, though admittedly in hushed tones, in the infirmary. At present, it'd looked like she'd probably been near a bomb going off.
Which was the truth.
"Those kids BETTER get out of there or I'm going to kill him," she muttered, shutting a drawer with more force than necessary. Then hissed as pain shot through her.
They had stumbled across a Black Organization case back home. Conan hadn't realized that until the end and realized one of the suspects for the case he had solved was probably about to be killed. Unfortunately he ran off on the kids and she hadn't been able to get them NOT to follow.
She did try. Really.
But it had been too late. She couldn't get them out of the home in time, but she had managed SOMETHING. The would be victim wouldn't survive, but the kids and Conan she had gotten into the bathroom that had a nice, big, western style cast iron tub. There would be fire. There would be danger. But at least they wouldn't be incinerated.
Though before she could see exactly how it all panned out, she ended up HERE again. Singed clothing and hair and burns on her her arms and shoulders from the wave of heat that hit before she was fully in the tub. Not to mention the bandages already on her head from when she banged it on the side in her scramble.
She had blacked out. Then woke up in the infirmary. And was currently only conscious by focusing on her anger at Conan rushing in like the detective he was so she could get some treatment for the wounds before she dared to pass out again. Of course, she was having trouble getting to her shoulders. She made a note not to wear tank tops while traveling with Conan ever again. Maybe she'd have had enough protection not to get burned there.
At current, Christie was ranting to herself, though admittedly in hushed tones, in the infirmary. At present, it'd looked like she'd probably been near a bomb going off.
Which was the truth.
"Those kids BETTER get out of there or I'm going to kill him," she muttered, shutting a drawer with more force than necessary. Then hissed as pain shot through her.
They had stumbled across a Black Organization case back home. Conan hadn't realized that until the end and realized one of the suspects for the case he had solved was probably about to be killed. Unfortunately he ran off on the kids and she hadn't been able to get them NOT to follow.
She did try. Really.
But it had been too late. She couldn't get them out of the home in time, but she had managed SOMETHING. The would be victim wouldn't survive, but the kids and Conan she had gotten into the bathroom that had a nice, big, western style cast iron tub. There would be fire. There would be danger. But at least they wouldn't be incinerated.
Though before she could see exactly how it all panned out, she ended up HERE again. Singed clothing and hair and burns on her her arms and shoulders from the wave of heat that hit before she was fully in the tub. Not to mention the bandages already on her head from when she banged it on the side in her scramble.
She had blacked out. Then woke up in the infirmary. And was currently only conscious by focusing on her anger at Conan rushing in like the detective he was so she could get some treatment for the wounds before she dared to pass out again. Of course, she was having trouble getting to her shoulders. She made a note not to wear tank tops while traveling with Conan ever again. Maybe she'd have had enough protection not to get burned there.