The Wiener Moon is nigh.

[wurstoftheworst]

Two weeks ago, a batch of strangely-colored hot dogs appeared in Milliways

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[post_whitewash]

Well, that's one mystery solved.
Fortunately, Cata's behind him when the needles start flying, and even in this kind of chaos she still knows how to move quietly. So he likely won't know she's there until she gets right behind him and says, "Really?"

[hands_of_blu]

That might've worked better if Medic were actually home to answer the call. As it stands there's a sharp yipe! kind of sound as he jumps and makes a rather impressive midair turn to see who just addressed him.

[post_whitewash]

Not a bad move, if one can make it, but Cata would be more impressed if not for the circumstances.
"I thought you were planning to avoid time in the cells," she says, ever so mildly. Most rational people (and perhaps even a few irrational ones) would recognise that as a very, very bad thing.
Of course she's got one hand on a small knife in a hidden pocket. Just because she trusts the Medic with her life doesn't mean she trusts Milliways illnesses.

[hands_of_blu]

Just because one is being driven by a supernaturally powered sausage-related compulsion to attempt to claim the Bar for... whatever territorial group it is, he's not really sure... doesn't mean the man hasn't got some survival instincts left in the back of his head. When you spend as long as Medic has running around battlefields you learn exactly how much punishment you can take (not that much) and who you can survive it from (not this person).

Time to lunge in a completely unrelated direction and take cover behind the furniture while he figures out what a more suitable next target would be. And start cursing a blue streak over not having Herr Heavy around. Seriously, where is that Russian when you need him?

[post_whitewash]

"Oh, no, you're not getting away that easily."
And she dives after him. At the very least, she can probably keep him occupied with trying to get away from her.
(Besides, she may well be the only person in this establishment who has a chance of getting through to him.)

[hands_of_blu]

Yeah, it's a little hard to pick anybody to shoot at properly when you know that taking a moment to aim is going to end up with something sharp and nasty in your own back. Spray the area down with as many syringes as the Blutsauger can fire, sure, but that starts chewing through ammo fast, especially given how fast the Medic can run- he's pretty spry for a guy his age.

The question becomes what he's going to do when those syringes run out.

[post_whitewash]

That's going to be her last resort, but if necessary she'll definitely use it (the man's got a healing gun, after all). And while the blade itself isn't silver, the hilt is, and anyway having a knife stuck in you is going to be an inconvenience no matter what.
As for keeping up, well, Cata's not half as out of practice as she was right after she regained her senses; she's not far behind him.

[hands_of_blu]

Phoot. Phoot. Phootphootphootclick.

So much for the ammo.

The weapon gets hastily tossed aside (another sign he's not in what passes for his right mind; he's usually better about his tools than that) and the situation swiftly assessed. No protection around, no ammo dispensers around, no one from his team, and that verdammt roaring sausage-voice in his head. Well, maybe-

See, if he were sane right now, he wouldn't even dream of this. People who jump up on the nearest available table and turn around to lunge at the vastly competent assassin chasing them, they're more in his category of 'cadaver donors' than anything.

So, uh... yeah, let's just be glad there aren't any other BLUs here to see what happens when the Medic attempts to do exactly that.

[post_whitewash]

Hand-to-hand combat was never Cata's strong point, and after she was forced to let her skills atrophy for seven years, it's never going to be.
But that hardly means she hasn't brushed up on her self-defense. She's more than capable of taking him to the ground, and then... well, she can just sit on him until he either comes to his senses or stops struggling. (Anyone else, she'd take pains to incapacitate further.)
"As I said when we began this... exchange," she says (since you can't exactly call this a conversation), "really?"

[hands_of_blu]

And that, there, would be the moment when the horrible animal roar rolls through the Bar from out back. It is entirely possible that there is also a largely unheard faint tinkly sound, as of some cartoonish percussion instrument, as quite a lot of unwanted body-hair falls to the floor and disappears along with its accompanying rash.

The silence that follows is eventually broken by a bewildered "Was zum Teufel ist passiert?"*

*Loosely rendered, "What the hell just happened?"

[post_whitewash]

Well, that was a rather nasty sound. All things considered, it seems to be a good sign - but Cata's not getting up just yet. She'd rather be sure first.
"Feeling better?"

[hands_of_blu]

"Ja... ja, I sink so," says the Medic. He'd reach up to rub at the corners of his eyes if he weren't pinned down. "Und I haf ze strangest memories of ze past few days."

[post_whitewash]

Cata smiles a little. "They're probably accurate."
Before she gets up - in probably the only indication of just how worried she really was - she leans down and kisses him.

[hands_of_blu]

"Ach, mein Gmmmph."

Well. That was unexpected.

But far from unwelcome.

[post_whitewash]

That's good. Though all things considered, she thought it was a gamble worth taking.
And then she gets off of him. "I'd apologise, but you did try to pounce on me."
Also, she doesn't so much do apologies.

[hands_of_blu]

"No need," says the Medic, propping himself up and blinking a few times. "I should sink your action vos justified, considering ze circumstances."

Also, he rather likes the way it turned out in the end.

"I only hope I vosn't too much of a problem."