Characters: Fay, Mello When: March 25th/ after this Where: Room 502 Rating: TBD. Possible violence and swearing. Summary: Mello is injured and Fay offers what help he can
Having pulled out the first-aid kit he'd wisely stolen from Credinta a while back, Mello was sitting on the worn couch in the living room, his coat and shirt stripped off and slung over the back of the couch. He hadn't had a chance to turn on the generator yet--and clearly, nobody had been here in a few days--so the room was freezing, but he had no time to mind that now.
Mello looked up at the knock, and was about to call for Fay to come in when the other pushed inside anyway, earning himself a strict look but, surprisingly, no reprimand. Mello only pursed his lips critically, sparing him only a glance before looking back down to toss aside the blood-drenched cloth over his left arm and replace it with another, pressing hard.
"I got shot," he stated the obvious, in flawless French to match Fay's language.
An eyebrow arched for a moment as Mello spoke words he was able to understand, and while they didn't call it French where he was from the two languages were close enough that there wasn't much to distinguish them from one another.
He dropped his sheet by the door, drawing closer and frowning. "We don't have guns in my world," he said, taking a knee before the couch and tilting his head to look into Mello's eyes, make sure he wasn't in shock. He'd grown familiar enough with guns in their travels, he wasn't fond of them. Ripping tearing things. "Did it go straight through?" he asked, offering up the sake.
Mello frowned at him when he caught Fay staring into his face like that and shifted away slightly, in pain and irritable--and thus, not entirely appreciative even if the other was only making sure he was all right.
Taking the sake from him, Mello pulled away the cloth he was using to stem the bleeding and poured a bit over his wound, not too much so as not to waste it. His jaw clenched, eyes stinging and the muscles in his throat jumping from how tightly he gritted his teeth, but he made no sound of pain.
He shook his head at the question; it would take a second to get his voice back. For now, he reached for the knife on the table in front of him and poured a little of the alcohol over it as well.
Fay winced as Mello poured the stuff over his wound. Kid was made of strong stuff, but he shouldn't have to do this all by himself. He reached out his hand to lay over Mello's, the one with the knife, shaking his head, "You do that to yourself and you're going to pass out," he cautioned gently, "Let me help you. You don't have to act so strong all the time."
His other hand reached towards Mello's forehead, wanting to check his temperature before he did anything, maybe smooth back his hair so he could watch his eyes properly.
Comments 32
Mello looked up at the knock, and was about to call for Fay to come in when the other pushed inside anyway, earning himself a strict look but, surprisingly, no reprimand. Mello only pursed his lips critically, sparing him only a glance before looking back down to toss aside the blood-drenched cloth over his left arm and replace it with another, pressing hard.
"I got shot," he stated the obvious, in flawless French to match Fay's language.
Reply
He dropped his sheet by the door, drawing closer and frowning. "We don't have guns in my world," he said, taking a knee before the couch and tilting his head to look into Mello's eyes, make sure he wasn't in shock. He'd grown familiar enough with guns in their travels, he wasn't fond of them. Ripping tearing things. "Did it go straight through?" he asked, offering up the sake.
Reply
Taking the sake from him, Mello pulled away the cloth he was using to stem the bleeding and poured a bit over his wound, not too much so as not to waste it. His jaw clenched, eyes stinging and the muscles in his throat jumping from how tightly he gritted his teeth, but he made no sound of pain.
He shook his head at the question; it would take a second to get his voice back. For now, he reached for the knife on the table in front of him and poured a little of the alcohol over it as well.
Reply
His other hand reached towards Mello's forehead, wanting to check his temperature before he did anything, maybe smooth back his hair so he could watch his eyes properly.
Reply
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