( she'd known the answer before he offers it. no one takes two bullets — now that it's evident just how many had burrowed within him — and expresses a vehement disinterest in going to the hospital. for most, it's that first instinctive reaction. he'd been more startled by her shadow veering that corner and another barrel pointed at him that wasn't russian than the bodies he'd left heavy on the concrete, so it's looking like it might've been yet another meeting between friends, only it's a fairly lose term where 'catching up' meant he had something they wanted. she knows the breadcrumbs well; personally. people did desperate things when it came to money, power, and perhaps most notably, the truth.
the corner of her lips tip upward, and really at this point they've both committed to checkmate. her asking him any questions would just open the floor for him to dig right back, and while she likes to think of herself as an open book, sometimes it's nice to meet someone as the uncut version of themselves — not what you've heard, not the name they've made for themselves either pretty or sharp.
a sole hum is let up in reply; considering. she doesn't make any further comment because she doesn't really feel she needs to — if he wanted to tell her what'd landed him there in the first place, he would. otherwise her hands are busy and she's got two bullet wounds to dedicate herself to, folding the cloth in on itself before she's dabbing at the second site. she can smell the pungent, metallic notes of blood and while she's managed to clean a majority of it from his skin, it's claimed the thick denim of his jeans and those shirts are worse for wear. he'd gotten lucky, an inch further to the left and it could've easily punctured a lung, hit something far more vital, but he doesn't seem too concerned with the severity of it all.
tit for tat, he's tossing the question back to her court, and when she looks up beneath her lashes she catches that side-long glance of his, holding it a moment with palm pressed to the site she's currently tending. )
Every now and then.
( there's a bit of misplaced humor given the circumstance, but her nonchalance says it all, attention once more stolen to her efforts. her primary concern is to stop the bleeding, and fortunately the bullets weren't too deep, keeping pressure to one while she reaches with her free hand for the tweezers. head nods in a gesture to the whiskey at the edge of the table — he doesn't have to take it, but the offer's there and recommended, given she wastes no time to divvy out the bullet glimmering back at her. )
This city has a way of keeping things interesting.
no subject
the corner of her lips tip upward, and really at this point they've both committed to checkmate. her asking him any questions would just open the floor for him to dig right back, and while she likes to think of herself as an open book, sometimes it's nice to meet someone as the uncut version of themselves — not what you've heard, not the name they've made for themselves either pretty or sharp.
a sole hum is let up in reply; considering. she doesn't make any further comment because she doesn't really feel she needs to — if he wanted to tell her what'd landed him there in the first place, he would. otherwise her hands are busy and she's got two bullet wounds to dedicate herself to, folding the cloth in on itself before she's dabbing at the second site. she can smell the pungent, metallic notes of blood and while she's managed to clean a majority of it from his skin, it's claimed the thick denim of his jeans and those shirts are worse for wear. he'd gotten lucky, an inch further to the left and it could've easily punctured a lung, hit something far more vital, but he doesn't seem too concerned with the severity of it all.
tit for tat, he's tossing the question back to her court, and when she looks up beneath her lashes she catches that side-long glance of his, holding it a moment with palm pressed to the site she's currently tending. )
Every now and then.
( there's a bit of misplaced humor given the circumstance, but her nonchalance says it all, attention once more stolen to her efforts. her primary concern is to stop the bleeding, and fortunately the bullets weren't too deep, keeping pressure to one while she reaches with her free hand for the tweezers. head nods in a gesture to the whiskey at the edge of the table — he doesn't have to take it, but the offer's there and recommended, given she wastes no time to divvy out the bullet glimmering back at her. )
This city has a way of keeping things interesting.