( it doesn't miss her that she's developed a stomach for this sort of thing. men who can't seem to keep themselves out of trouble and the tangled webs they weave, a saga. she seems to have walked into exactly that, and she makes an incredulous sounding scoff that's almost dry when he insists he's fine. she thinks to make a remark on how the bullets that've cut through that leather jacket of his say otherwise, and given the fact there's no indication quite yet as to whether there was an exit wound, she knows the window of opportunity for the small talk wasn't incredibly wide, either. teeth catch at the tip of her tongue, and a glance down to the entry sites should speak for her. )
Yeah. ( it's almost sardonic. an i hear you, but i'm not buying it.
when he straightens up against those maroon-wash bricks she mirrors him, remaining eye level with thumb gingerly pressed at the front of his shoulder where she holds him. something tells her he's not exactly shaken up about the whole thing, either; so fittingly, it's neither of their first time.
on the contrary, she can believe it, and all it takes is a quick study of their surroundings to assure her. if the lack of prominent russian on the bed of his tongue wasn't a tell, the fact that they were all down and he's (barely) up and standing there before her was enough. hues are electric as they meet with his after a brief glance down to where he clasps at her for stability, recognizing the familiar, promising hue that's taken to the orbital bone beside his eye.
she's shaking her head before he can even finish his attempt to shrug her off. he's giving her an out, she understands, but she's not taking it. )
And who takes care of you?
( if he can hardly keep his own body weight upright, there's a small chance he'd able to do much else, certainly not at the level of action she must've just missed him in. there's another look around the alley, sloshed with puddles, and honestly... she's seen worse. what's another crime-ridden alley in the heart of manhattan? when sights return to his there's a slight furrow to her brows, and if he hasn't picked up on it by now, she didn't plan to leave there without him. )
I'm not asking for the story. ( does she want to know? without question, but her priority right now was making sure he didn't wilt in front of her. ) But if you won't go to the hospital, at least let me look. I don't live far. I'm no doctor, but I'm willing to bet that's a better alternative. ( for him, because going to the hospital meant giving answers she assumes he's none too willing to open up about. )
no subject
Yeah. ( it's almost sardonic. an i hear you, but i'm not buying it.
when he straightens up against those maroon-wash bricks she mirrors him, remaining eye level with thumb gingerly pressed at the front of his shoulder where she holds him. something tells her he's not exactly shaken up about the whole thing, either; so fittingly, it's neither of their first time.
on the contrary, she can believe it, and all it takes is a quick study of their surroundings to assure her. if the lack of prominent russian on the bed of his tongue wasn't a tell, the fact that they were all down and he's (barely) up and standing there before her was enough. hues are electric as they meet with his after a brief glance down to where he clasps at her for stability, recognizing the familiar, promising hue that's taken to the orbital bone beside his eye.
she's shaking her head before he can even finish his attempt to shrug her off. he's giving her an out, she understands, but she's not taking it. )
And who takes care of you?
( if he can hardly keep his own body weight upright, there's a small chance he'd able to do much else, certainly not at the level of action she must've just missed him in. there's another look around the alley, sloshed with puddles, and honestly... she's seen worse. what's another crime-ridden alley in the heart of manhattan? when sights return to his there's a slight furrow to her brows, and if he hasn't picked up on it by now, she didn't plan to leave there without him. )
I'm not asking for the story. ( does she want to know? without question, but her priority right now was making sure he didn't wilt in front of her. ) But if you won't go to the hospital, at least let me look. I don't live far. I'm no doctor, but I'm willing to bet that's a better alternative. ( for him, because going to the hospital meant giving answers she assumes he's none too willing to open up about. )