(no subject)
[OOM: Inching ever closer
to the tip
of the scorpion's tale.
Getting half of what you want is never good enough.]
With his arm bent up to his chest, the thing Ramon is most conscious of is the way blood is running down to his elbow, soaking through his shirt and pooling in the thick fabric of his coat. If he looked down, he'd see it dripping to the floor but he doesn't because the warmth of the bar hits him like a train and he hadn't realised how much the cool air outside was keeping him alert.
This hurts.
Self-preservation is important but in this case, it's bigger than a bullet through the collarbone. He makes a beeline for Bar, assuming Mary Anne will follow. When he gets there he leans against her heavily and places the vial, the vial, on the counter.
'Look after it for me.'
It doesn't move. Maybe he's imagining the distaste that emanates from the wood? Maybe not. Either way, he doesn't want to draw this out and his tone turns urgent.
'You have to. Please. If you don't, I'll have to keep it upstairs and you don't know what could happen to it up there. If you want to keep this place safe, you'll look after it for me.'
That wasn't a threat, just a statement of fact. No one, least of all him, wants this virus let loose in the bar. He still lives here, after all.
The wait seems to take forever and he clutches at the counter to keep steady.
'Please?'
And eventually, with reluctance, it disappears. Ramon sighs with relief and turns, looking around for the first time and glancing at Mary Anne.
'You see Doc anywhere?'
[OOC: Locked to Mary Anne and Doc Scurlock]
to the tip
of the scorpion's tale.
Getting half of what you want is never good enough.]
With his arm bent up to his chest, the thing Ramon is most conscious of is the way blood is running down to his elbow, soaking through his shirt and pooling in the thick fabric of his coat. If he looked down, he'd see it dripping to the floor but he doesn't because the warmth of the bar hits him like a train and he hadn't realised how much the cool air outside was keeping him alert.
This hurts.
Self-preservation is important but in this case, it's bigger than a bullet through the collarbone. He makes a beeline for Bar, assuming Mary Anne will follow. When he gets there he leans against her heavily and places the vial, the vial, on the counter.
'Look after it for me.'
It doesn't move. Maybe he's imagining the distaste that emanates from the wood? Maybe not. Either way, he doesn't want to draw this out and his tone turns urgent.
'You have to. Please. If you don't, I'll have to keep it upstairs and you don't know what could happen to it up there. If you want to keep this place safe, you'll look after it for me.'
That wasn't a threat, just a statement of fact. No one, least of all him, wants this virus let loose in the bar. He still lives here, after all.
The wait seems to take forever and he clutches at the counter to keep steady.
'Please?'
And eventually, with reluctance, it disappears. Ramon sighs with relief and turns, looking around for the first time and glancing at Mary Anne.
'You see Doc anywhere?'
[OOC: Locked to Mary Anne and Doc Scurlock]