Keep calm and idk

[sockfromarose]

Some of the coolest threads come from just putting characters in situations! This meme is a chance to do just that.

How to Play:

1. No blank top-levels. Put a "don't panic, but..." statement in your top-level. Examples:
   • "Don't panic, but my father's coming and I need you to hide me."
   • "Don't panic, but everyone's throwing up."
   • "Don't panic, but I think something just exploded around the corner."
   • "Don't panic, but there's someone following you."
   • "Don't panic, but your shoes clash with that purse really badly."
2. Respond to other people's statements. Maybe you can help them. Maybe you can make the situation worse. Maybe you can't help but panic.
3. ????
4. Profit

Comments

[kingandcastle]

[A muscle twitches for the first punch of the needle and Frank blows a breath out through his nose.] Answer ain't gonna help you. I'm not scared because. Because sometimes the idea of being dead is a relief. Doubly so if I can go down swingin'.

[A mournful scream joins into the wail. He watches hands make their stitches; looks at the kid's profile. Maybe not a kid. Frank's jaw works for a minute and he wets dry lips.] But... There's a girl. The balls on her, y'know? Sixteen and tougher than some guys I served with. [He huffs something that might be a laugh.] She faced down all sorts of bad shit, real bad shit, including me, like a goddamn bull in a china shop. Her attitude was worse than anythin' this asshat's serving.

[pharmacy]

[ That's good. The story is good, and the way it's whispered feels warm, molasses sweet like sharing secrets between sleeping bags, snickering over something when you're supposed to be doing the sleep part of sleepover. The stitches go quick, needle darting between the details, till Quentin can wipe the spot again and have it come away without seeping.

[ Normal quick work, but then comes the weird Fog part: his bare hand presses over the wound and pushes. Not just for pressure, but for a focal point to pour his concentration into--a little patch of magic, knitting the worst bits below the skin back together. It takes time, but as Quentin lifts his head and smiles loosely, he feels like they have time. At least a little. ]

What's her name? [ He wants to know about the bad shit. About how Frank falls into that category. That's for another time though. He huffs off a wave of dizziness. ] What's she do that--how does she make you smile? You do smile, right?

[kingandcastle]

[Frank hisses at the new feeling. The - he looks down, and what the fuck. This kid a meta? There's a half a thought to pull away, to not give an inch of trust despite that he's already been sown up by the same hands, but then the smile is offered and Frank just looks away again.] Not if I can help it, kid. [Smiling means you're in a position to have something taken away.]

Rachel. [Not her real name, but the first one she gave Frank.] First time we met I asked if she was okay and she took one look at me and said "mind your own business, Rough Road." [He shakes his head.] Never could keep her mouth shut.

[pharmacy]

Wow. Birds of a feather, huh? [ Almost there, and the oppressive darkness around them is starting to ripple, to flicker, maybe to fade if they're lucky. Just a little longer-- ] Rough Road. What's that?

[kingandcastle]

[Sounds like someone knows how to be a smart ass. But the kid's fixing him up and something in Frank expands generously with the ease in the darkness.] Apparently it was her way of sayin' it looked like I'd been dragged through life a bit. Mostly on my face.

[pharmacy]

Sweet kid.

[ His hand lifts away at last, the blood stamped on his palm dry and unmoving. When Frank takes a deep breath, it might feel tight, or the very outermost layer might split--but the wound is good enough to run with. Quentin tips back on his heels, just a little short of breath as he shoves everything back in his bag. ] Okay. We should move. I need you to cover me till my head's back on straight.

Not drawing attention. To either of us. Does that work for you, Rough Road?

[kingandcastle]

This hiding like scared fuckin' rabbits is bullshit. [But his tone says what the complaint doesn't: yeah, not drawing attention. Roger.

Frank works his arm a little as he pushes himself up onto his feet, testing the new range of his side. When the kid's got his kit away, Frank hauls him up the last few inches to his feet, too. Claps his shoulder once, tersely.] Lead the way, Kemosabe.