[Rhys is lucky on a few counts. Tuck is extremely stubborn, easily worried, and had little trouble hacking into his mobile phone to activate his GPS and locate him when he failed to check in. It wasn't a long drive back home, and when there had been no 'made it home' texts, Tuck started to worry.
While he might barely be able to hold his own in hand to hand, he could handle a gun well enough. The muted cough of a gun on a silencer can be heard just outside the door, coupled with the heavy thud of falling bodies. He shoulders the door open, relief mingling with worry when he catches sight of Rhys's overall state.]
Christ on a pogo stick, man. The hell happened to you?
[ Rhys has to blink at seeing Tuck, because the mild-mannered hacker is not precisely who he expected to ride to his rescue. But Rhys is absolutely not complaining, considering the state he's in. One eye is starting to swell shut, he's lost an earring the hard way from being knocked around, and whatever they've given him to keep him from being able to concentrate on his magic is keeping him dizzy and disoriented. Plus, oh yes. He's duct-taped to a wooden chair in a garage.]
[Not one of his better moments, no.]
Urgh. Tuck? [It takes him a second to get his thoughts together, and process that he's actually seeing his friend, with a gun, but he tries again.] Man, fuck this. I need a 'frequent rescues' club card.
*snerk* that face.. I love it.dixietechDecember 21 2012, 20:48:28 UTC
[Tuck snorts out a laugh, taking a moment to clear the room before he approaches his battered friend, relieving one of the corpses of a knife to cut him free of the duct tape. The odd circle of runes around the rickety chair gives him pause and without even really knowing why, he kneels down, using the blade to scratch through one of the binding signs.
The sigils taken care of, he moves closer and starts slicing through the thick tape.] I'll be sure to stamp it once we get you outta here, man. Hang on. Almost done.
[When he's cut free, Tuck leaves the knife on the floor and dips his shoulder beneath Rhys's. It's awkward, but he can at least keep his gun hand free.]
Car's just outside, then we'll get you patched up.
Hey, he just got rescued by his IT guy. :p sleight_of_fateDecember 21 2012, 23:42:57 UTC
[ As soon as Tuck breaks the circle, Rhys gives a little groan of relief, pressure in his head easing as the buzzing of the ward stops. Though he still looks ashy and unfocused, he's starting to come around a little, enough to wince at the sight of the corpses, and he blinks and struggles for coherency as Tuck works on his bindings.] Bagged me outside the rest stop. Must've been following me...maybe tagged my car, dunno...stupid. [Rhys is in good shape, but he's not big or trained, and there's a big difference between bouncing an unruly bar patron, and holding your own two-to-one against armed thugs. He never had a chance, especially when a knock to the head disoriented him. Game over.]
[Moving makes things that he didn't know were going to hurt, hurt, and Rhys bites back pain sounds as he moves, trying not to be a baby about a little beating. He doesn't remember going down on that wrist, or hearing it break, but it's definitely not working the way it's supposed to, and...yeah. He'll be feeling this in the morning. Hell, he's feeling
( ... )
Haha, touche. xDdixietechDecember 22 2012, 00:11:13 UTC
Kind of hard to miss that ol boat. We'll pick it up later. [Tuck doesn't spare a glance for the bodies, focusing his attention on getting Rhys out. That's what they did in Sherwood after all. Extraction. He doesn't care why they had Rhys, what the signs on the floor really meant, or why they'd gone to the trouble to pick him up. He was a friend and Tuck looked after his friends.
He's too bashed up to take home and patch, so it's off to the local ER for a quick check and a hell of a lot of bullshitting. Bill eases Rhys against the wall near the door. Following a quick sweep, he returns and helps him towards his car.] I'd hope so, man. You don't strike me as the pro-pain type.
C'mon. In you go. Hospital ain't more than a few miles away.
[ The pain comment just gets a look from Rhys, considering he's covered in tattoos and piercings. After the stress of his captivity and with mild shock setting in, it strikes him as entirely too funny and he just starts to laugh...then gasps because, ow, bruised ribs. He hobbles along to the door with Tuck's support, then slumps against the wall, catching his breath and re-acquainting himself with circulation, still trying not to giggle, while he waits for Tuck to clear the hall. The fit passes quickly, but the shakes remain, and he leans heavily again on Tuck when he comes back.]
Hospital..? Shit. Maybe I can just...walk it off? [ He thought he was doing a pretty good job of that, actually, all things considered. He grimaces, looking down at his hand with a pathetic sort of hopefulness. Maybe it's not busted
( ... )
[As long as the laughter doesn't edge into hysterical, Tuck's fine with it. Considering what he's been through, it's not much of a surprise and a fairly good sign. If he was laughing, then he was able to bleed off some of the stress of the capture and the obvious abuse he'd taken since.]
You can walk a lot of things off, but not what happened to your hand there.
[He's laying the gun on the passenger seat, kicking the car into gear and turning back towards the interstate. Once they're on the road, he angles the mirror to get a better look at his friend stretched out in the back.] I can patch up a fair amount, but a break ain't one of them. Just a few hours in and out. I'll handle the paperwork, all right?
[And by paperwork he means fake IDs, insurance cards and a completely bullshit excuse about what happened..]
[This isn't Rhys's first time at the rodeo, as evidenced by his 'frequent rescues' comment, and a few slow breaths and the realization that he's safe and going home takes the edge off things, helps him keep everything in check. No hysterics, though the shakes still come and go in quiet fits, and the pain...he can cope with it. It's only pain, and he's been hurt before.]
Can't blame a guy for trying. Jus'...no insurance an' I got a record...don't really like hospitals that much. [He's a little surprised to hear himself admit that, but it's been a long day. Later, he'll blame the drugs in his system if it comes up, if he remembers saying it at all, but he doesn't want to put Tuck out anymore than he already has, and sticking him with hospital paperwork, in Rhys's foggy mind, is a completely dick thing to do
( ... )
Nothin too eventful. [Tuck leans forward when Rhys finally stirs. He was about done working his way through the last of the paperwork, handing off insurance cards to a matronly looking woman wearing a plastic badge on a lanyard around her neck. Aah, bureaucracy.]
They gave you a pretty good dose of the good stuff to take the edge off the pain and you passed out. [He scoots the chair closer, pitching his voice low even though the exam room was currently empty.] According to the insurance card, your name is Mike Binderhoff. [He pulls a slightly apologetic face at the last name. It was the only decent insurance card he had in such a pinch.]
Your wrist was a clean break, they were able to set it after you went under. Doc just wants to make sure you're not too busted up before I can get you outta here. Hope you don't mind a few more days at my place. You're gonna need to rest somewhere and I ain't too far.
[Rhys peers blearily up at Tuck, realizing time has passed, and blinks, squinting in the sharp lights. Things start getting blurry after the back of the car, especially after the shot of painkillers, and Rhys is messed up enough to be happy to just go with it. The weight of the cast on his hand reminds him of everything, though, and he tries to move just a little, to get his bearings, before he nods slowly to indicate he's picking up what Tuck is saying.]
That mean you gonna dress up as a nurse to cheer me up? [In spite of it all, he musters a small smile. Of course there's a bunch of things they want to check for, and let Tuck know to watch for. Concussion, internal injuries, all those fun and exciting things that come with having the shit kicked out of you. Rhys's tattoos kept him from being hurt a lot worse than he is, but he's still pretty battered. And as much as he wants to protest being a houseguest...the idea of going home alone isn't particularly appealing, either. So between that and the painkillers running through his
( ... )
And have you hurt yourself all over again laughing? Naw. Think I'll save that for Halloween. Give me time to get my legs waxed. [He winks, settling back into the very uncomfortable chair provided by the hospital. Tuck knows the litany of things to watch for. Blown pupils, slurred speech, he's been around the medics at Grimm long enough to have picked up on the basics of field medicine.
And once the painkillers wear off, he's likely going to have to explain why the IT guy is good with a gun and didn't blink at killing his captors. Rhys wasn't the only one with an unconventional day job.
Reaching out, Bill squeezed his uninjured hand briefly.] You'd do the same. Now get some rest. I'm gonna go talk to Nurse Ratchet, see if she can't spring you soon.
Hey...don't go getting my hopes up too far, huh? [Rhys smirks, though it fades into a sigh with the tide of painkillers still pulling at him. But Rhys is okay with that because he trusts Tuck to handle things. Tuck came for him when he needed it, and Rhys has faith that he's safe with him. It's odd to realize, but...there it is, and he feels at ease when he lets his eyes close again. They probably do have a lot to talk about, but that can come later.
He settles back on the stiff white paper-covered bed and gives Tuck's hand a return squeeze, the best he can muster before he lets the drugs take over again and just drifts for a while. He's pretty sure he's dodged the concussion and the really bad stuff, but rest is still feeling really good right now.
He's even fuzzy enough not to bitch about "Binderhoff".]
Wouldn't dream of it, man. [Tuck falls quiet as Rhys shuts his eyes. They'll be out of there in a few hours, so he'll let him get some badly needed rest while he checks in with the unit and remotely pokes at a few programs busily chewing their way through some 'impenetrable' firewalls.
The doctor slips in while Rhys drifts, and soon Bill is tucking the checkout paperwork into his jacket along with a few prescriptions for pain medicine and antibiotics. Given the late hour, he's also sent along with a little orange bottle of pills that should get his cousin through the night until a pharmacy opens in the morning.
Smothering a yawn in his fist, he slips out to the small hospital gift shop and returns with a plastic bag full of toiletries for Rhys and a Coke for himself. Maybe he can hit a drive through on the way home..]
[Rhys dozes a little more, though he wakes long enough to badger one of the nurses about making sure that all his piercings are still in (some of them would be kind of...inconvenient to replace) and to be reassured that none of his tattoos are seriously damaged. Weird priorities, but that happens when you're in the hospital and doped out of your head. Plus, if Tuck hasn't seen Rhys with his shirt off before now? That's a lot of ink he's invested in. Besides the full tribal sleeves on both arms, his chest and back are both covered, though the designs are sharing space with some equally impressive bruises and scrapes at present
( ... )
[The tattoos are impressive, and again, something pricks at the back of his mind. Like he’s seen them before, a distant memory hovering just out of reach. He’s not much of a tattoo guy himself (aversion to needles, really) so he tries not to look too long at the intricate work scrolling up each arm and across his chest and back. Nothing pings his memory like the one at the back of his neck, but Tuck has yet to nerve himself up to ask about the tattoos and what they mean to Rhys.
He leaves him at the Emergency Room entrance, swinging the car closer so he doesn’t have to navigate the dark parking lot. The car is cool and Tuck shrugs out of his coat, offering it to Rhys as he levers himself into the car.] Probably won’t fit, but it’ll keep you a little warmer until the heat kicks in.
[They’re on the highway in moments, heading back to Tuck’s house. As he drives, his eyes flick towards the mirror, watching for any headlights that might linger a tad too long.] I’ve got leftovers in the fridge and enough meds to keep you happy until
( ... )
(OOC: Crack, dark, rescue, whateves!)
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While he might barely be able to hold his own in hand to hand, he could handle a gun well enough. The muted cough of a gun on a silencer can be heard just outside the door, coupled with the heavy thud of falling bodies. He shoulders the door open, relief mingling with worry when he catches sight of Rhys's overall state.]
Christ on a pogo stick, man. The hell happened to you?
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[Not one of his better moments, no.]
Urgh. Tuck? [It takes him a second to get his thoughts together, and process that he's actually seeing his friend, with a gun, but he tries again.] Man, fuck this. I need a 'frequent rescues' club card.
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The sigils taken care of, he moves closer and starts slicing through the thick tape.] I'll be sure to stamp it once we get you outta here, man. Hang on. Almost done.
[When he's cut free, Tuck leaves the knife on the floor and dips his shoulder beneath Rhys's. It's awkward, but he can at least keep his gun hand free.]
Car's just outside, then we'll get you patched up.
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[Moving makes things that he didn't know were going to hurt, hurt, and Rhys bites back pain sounds as he moves, trying not to be a baby about a little beating. He doesn't remember going down on that wrist, or hearing it break, but it's definitely not working the way it's supposed to, and...yeah. He'll be feeling this in the morning. Hell, he's feeling ( ... )
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He's too bashed up to take home and patch, so it's off to the local ER for a quick check and a hell of a lot of bullshitting. Bill eases Rhys against the wall near the door. Following a quick sweep, he returns and helps him towards his car.] I'd hope so, man. You don't strike me as the pro-pain type.
C'mon. In you go. Hospital ain't more than a few miles away.
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Hospital..? Shit. Maybe I can just...walk it off? [ He thought he was doing a pretty good job of that, actually, all things considered. He grimaces, looking down at his hand with a pathetic sort of hopefulness. Maybe it's not busted ( ... )
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You can walk a lot of things off, but not what happened to your hand there.
[He's laying the gun on the passenger seat, kicking the car into gear and turning back towards the interstate. Once they're on the road, he angles the mirror to get a better look at his friend stretched out in the back.] I can patch up a fair amount, but a break ain't one of them. Just a few hours in and out. I'll handle the paperwork, all right?
[And by paperwork he means fake IDs, insurance cards and a completely bullshit excuse about what happened..]
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Can't blame a guy for trying. Jus'...no insurance an' I got a record...don't really like hospitals that much. [He's a little surprised to hear himself admit that, but it's been a long day. Later, he'll blame the drugs in his system if it comes up, if he remembers saying it at all, but he doesn't want to put Tuck out anymore than he already has, and sticking him with hospital paperwork, in Rhys's foggy mind, is a completely dick thing to do ( ... )
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They gave you a pretty good dose of the good stuff to take the edge off the pain and you passed out. [He scoots the chair closer, pitching his voice low even though the exam room was currently empty.] According to the insurance card, your name is Mike Binderhoff. [He pulls a slightly apologetic face at the last name. It was the only decent insurance card he had in such a pinch.]
Your wrist was a clean break, they were able to set it after you went under. Doc just wants to make sure you're not too busted up before I can get you outta here. Hope you don't mind a few more days at my place. You're gonna need to rest somewhere and I ain't too far.
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That mean you gonna dress up as a nurse to cheer me up? [In spite of it all, he musters a small smile. Of course there's a bunch of things they want to check for, and let Tuck know to watch for. Concussion, internal injuries, all those fun and exciting things that come with having the shit kicked out of you. Rhys's tattoos kept him from being hurt a lot worse than he is, but he's still pretty battered. And as much as he wants to protest being a houseguest...the idea of going home alone isn't particularly appealing, either. So between that and the painkillers running through his ( ... )
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And once the painkillers wear off, he's likely going to have to explain why the IT guy is good with a gun and didn't blink at killing his captors. Rhys wasn't the only one with an unconventional day job.
Reaching out, Bill squeezed his uninjured hand briefly.] You'd do the same. Now get some rest. I'm gonna go talk to Nurse Ratchet, see if she can't spring you soon.
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He settles back on the stiff white paper-covered bed and gives Tuck's hand a return squeeze, the best he can muster before he lets the drugs take over again and just drifts for a while. He's pretty sure he's dodged the concussion and the really bad stuff, but rest is still feeling really good right now.
He's even fuzzy enough not to bitch about "Binderhoff".]
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The doctor slips in while Rhys drifts, and soon Bill is tucking the checkout paperwork into his jacket along with a few prescriptions for pain medicine and antibiotics. Given the late hour, he's also sent along with a little orange bottle of pills that should get his cousin through the night until a pharmacy opens in the morning.
Smothering a yawn in his fist, he slips out to the small hospital gift shop and returns with a plastic bag full of toiletries for Rhys and a Coke for himself. Maybe he can hit a drive through on the way home..]
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He leaves him at the Emergency Room entrance, swinging the car closer so he doesn’t have to navigate the dark parking lot. The car is cool and Tuck shrugs out of his coat, offering it to Rhys as he levers himself into the car.] Probably won’t fit, but it’ll keep you a little warmer until the heat kicks in.
[They’re on the highway in moments, heading back to Tuck’s house. As he drives, his eyes flick towards the mirror, watching for any headlights that might linger a tad too long.] I’ve got leftovers in the fridge and enough meds to keep you happy until ( ... )
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