Careful— ...mm. I'll see if I can't find a replacement later...
[ hooking her fingers carefully into the collar of his shirt, on the side away from his injured shoulder so as to jar it as little as possible when she rips it straight open down the front
...blinking at her handiwork and pinking, slightly, although between her mismatched skin and the lower light it might be difficult to tell... ]
[ still better than grubby fingers! and easier to clean.
the fading sound of his voice sets off a panic button in the back of her head, though. he's only human (she thinks), and one already healing from nasty injuries; this could kill him. will kill him if she makes the wrong sort of mistake.
...she's not sure how things came to this, that it mattered.
shuffling forward, nearly straddling him, and holding one arm up to his face]
This is going to hurt like Hell. Bite down on my arm if you have to, but don't bite your own tongue.
[objectively, this won't kill him. he knows that. but it doesn't occur to him to tell her that. very little is occurring to him right now, with how badly his body wants to just shut down and repair itself, now that the adrenaline has worn off.]
[it only takes him a moment to discover that yes, he needs to bite down on something, and he doesn't hesitate to latch onto her arm. not since he's sure she can't feel it.
something she might note, during amateur surgery hour, is that... his glamour is flickering. it was easy to miss the pointed ears and slitted gold eyes when he fell through her ceiling, but his hair is shorter now, and his eyes stubbornly open as he fights to stay conscious.]
[ she doesn't note during; she's far too focused on making sure her hands go where she wants them to to pay attention to anything outside of the bullet she's trying to ease out of his flesh. even when she finally gets it out and can look up long enough to check on him, her eyes skate over the differences without really seeing what it is she's looking at.
it isn't until after she's gotten gauze taped over the ragged hole that she lets her focus slip— which means when she looks up to check on him again she blinks, eyes narrowing in confusion ]
[He's grinding his teeth into her flesh when she checks on him, eyes bright and pupils blown wide with fervor, but still clearly slitted. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts, but he hasn't screamed.]
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[he may have thought it was magic.]
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[ scooting over, still cautious ]
You didn't know how guns work?
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I'm from very far away.
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I wouldn't have guessed. Ah...
...can you. Um. Can you take your shirt off? Or should I...
[ ... makes a sort of ripping gesture ]
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...You'll have to, I think.
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[ hooking her fingers carefully into the collar of his shirt, on the side away from his injured shoulder so as to jar it as little as possible when she rips it straight open down the front
...blinking at her handiwork and pinking, slightly, although between her mismatched skin and the lower light it might be difficult to tell... ]
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It's hard for him to make out her blush, though, especially when his vision is getting fuzzy at the edges.]
Don't worry about that...
[kind of vaguely. ps that wound is fucking intense.]
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Ah— try to stay with me. Even if you'd rather you didn't.
[ please tell her his first aid kit has tweezers or something to go in after that bullet, her fingers are filthy... ]
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I will.
[faintly. he's. clearly struggling.]
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the fading sound of his voice sets off a panic button in the back of her head, though. he's only human (she thinks), and one already healing from nasty injuries; this could kill him. will kill him if she makes the wrong sort of mistake.
...she's not sure how things came to this, that it mattered.
shuffling forward, nearly straddling him, and holding one arm up to his face]
This is going to hurt like Hell. Bite down on my arm if you have to, but don't bite your own tongue.
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...I don't want to hurt you.
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[ ...maybe she shouldn't be speaking in riddles with the intent to distance when he's halfway to passing out. ]
I won't feel it. It's fine.
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Okay.
[braaacing himself.]
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TIME FOR AMATEUR SURGERY HOUR ]
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something she might note, during amateur surgery hour, is that... his glamour is flickering. it was easy to miss the pointed ears and slitted gold eyes when he fell through her ceiling, but his hair is shorter now, and his eyes stubbornly open as he fights to stay conscious.]
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it isn't until after she's gotten gauze taped over the ragged hole that she lets her focus slip— which means when she looks up to check on him again she blinks, eyes narrowing in confusion ]
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hesitantly, ready to withdraw if he lashes out from the pain, she lifts her other hand to place on his head. ]
It's done. I'm done. No more.
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then creakily opens his mouth, letting go of her arm.]
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...Thanks.
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...you're welcome. I owed it to you, anyhow.
[ looking around for his blanket. ]
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[he suuuure has not noticed his disguise is down.]
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[ she sure is not commenting on it at all. yet. she is, however, shoving his blanket at him as soon as she finds it.
that and giving him some laser-intent looks, but surely those could be written off for a number of reasons. ]
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