Wren often works late at the hospital, and tonight is no exception, but he's usually awake enough not to spill scalding hot coffee all over the back of his right hand (and over a stack of patient files, and the photograph of his sister he's been meaning to buy a desk frame for).
Usually.
He makes it to the sink, cursing under his breath, and runs cold water over the already reddening skin.
[Just about time to head home for this almost-a-nurse, but he said he'd finish mopping the corridor, and he's not one to go back on that. Whistling softly under his breath, it's on an exhaled breath that he sees the accident through a glass panel.
He hurries over immediately, abandoning his task to help.]
[It's unusual for Dean to be by himself and he can't seem to help expecting his little brother to show up any minute now with concern written all over his features, but this time Dean knows that Sam isn't coming. Hell, he doesn't even know where Sam is or where he is for that matter.
One minute he was trapped in Purgatory and the next he's walking down some grotty back alley, struggling to keep moving. There are three thin claw-like gashes on his face, running down from the top of his eyebrow all the way down to his lips, but they're the only visible marks. But underneath his clothes he's covered in bruises, scratches, cuts and fresh scars that are all complimentary of the monsters he met in the limbo between Heaven and Hell. Bastards.]
*Faith was about to go out of her mind. Having a hundred freaking baby Slayers around meant that patrolling just wasn't what it used to be. She was bored and itching for some kind of excitement. So when she'd heard the heavy footfalls coming from farther back in the alley her adrenaline had kicked in for a hot second. She had a stake hidden in her sleeve and a tanto in the waist of her jeans, both of which were ready to go at a moment's notice, until she actually saw what the source of the noise was.
Her Slayer sense wasn't going off and from the looks of him, he fit the "victim" category better than the "evil undead or demonic" one. With a sigh she moves closer, keeping her hands in sight despite the fact most guys didn't realize just how threatening she could be if she felt so inclined to be.* Yo, you okay over there?
Super. [Dean replied, choosing to go with his usual sarcastic response instead of admitting that he could use a hand. Weakness was just something that he didn't like to show despite the fact that it was sometimes obvious, especially to those who knew him.
Wincing a little, he tried to straighten himself out before taking a few more small steps forward, forcing a thin smile onto his lips to try and make out that he was completely okay.
The pain he was feeling was manageable for now. The only real issue he was having was not being able to walk very well.] I'm good.
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Usually.
He makes it to the sink, cursing under his breath, and runs cold water over the already reddening skin.
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He hurries over immediately, abandoning his task to help.]
Och, nasty. Coffee attacked you?
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One minute he was trapped in Purgatory and the next he's walking down some grotty back alley, struggling to keep moving. There are three thin claw-like gashes on his face, running down from the top of his eyebrow all the way down to his lips, but they're the only visible marks. But underneath his clothes he's covered in bruises, scratches, cuts and fresh scars that are all complimentary of the monsters he met in the limbo between Heaven and Hell. Bastards.]
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Her Slayer sense wasn't going off and from the looks of him, he fit the "victim" category better than the "evil undead or demonic" one. With a sigh she moves closer, keeping her hands in sight despite the fact most guys didn't realize just how threatening she could be if she felt so inclined to be.* Yo, you okay over there?
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Wincing a little, he tried to straighten himself out before taking a few more small steps forward, forcing a thin smile onto his lips to try and make out that he was completely okay.
The pain he was feeling was manageable for now. The only real issue he was having was not being able to walk very well.] I'm good.
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