Blaze001/Leon (
blaze001) wrote in
bakerstreet2013-05-22 11:09 pm
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Options
1. Exhaustion - Maybe you haven't been sleeping well lately, maybe you've had a stressful day at work. Either way, you just can't keep your eyes open, and any surface/person/animal looks comfortable
2. Magic - Maybe you shouldn't have annoyed that wizard! Be it in the middle of a fight, or a time-delay to sometime more inconvenient, you just fall asleep where you stand.
3. Illness - You're sick, and the sickness is draining all your energy. Are you drifting off in bed, or doing something you shouldn't be when under the weather. Maybe you're actually narcoleptic.
4. Drugged - Oh no! I never should have drank those chemicals. Or, perhaps, you've got an enemy with access to weird and exotic poisons, or a vindictive roommate. Maybe you shouldn't have drank the last soda.
5. Boredom - Wow, this mission briefing is really boring, or maybe you can't bear to listen to your friend recounting the one-night fling he had with a botanist in Switzerland. Either way, you're sat there and dozing off in your chair.
6. Drunk - Had one too many? Not enough?
7. Anything else? The more awkward or annoying the better!
1. Post with your character (note the name and fandom in the subject).
2. Other people reply to you by generating a number from 1 to 6. You can use RNG or just choose.
3. Have fun!
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Gamble looks back up at Jim. "You really didn't want to kill me." He comments. "Maybe you're as fucked up as I am."
Yeah, um, ignore the icon fail there, please. *snickers*
I didn't notice!
It's that one phrase. The one thing that Brian's now scared of, now that he hasn't got the energy for anger, the pain stripping all the rage from him.
He might not mean to do it next time, but he's reckless. He knows he is. He's a reckless, hot-headed bastard.
That's good, considering that I accidentally gave you Jim's kissy face icon. *laughs*
"You have a hell of a way of making a guy feel special." Even to his own ears, his attempt at dark humor falls pathetically flat.
Well, he wuvs Brian.
Yes. Yes, he does.
"Shit." Automatically, Jim is on his knees next to Brian, grimly feeling him over to figure out where the blood is coming from. "Dammit, Brian."
Re: Yes. Yes, he does.
Remember that broken arm? Seems he's also got a nasty cut on it, and that seems to be where the majority of his bloodloss seems to have been from...
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The sling's coming off as carefully as Jim can manage, and thank God the linen closet is within arm's reach. Snagging a hand towel, Street presses it down firmly against the open wound, staunching the flow of blood. It's going to hurt Gamble like a motherfucker to clean the gash out, but right now, Jim just wants to stop the bleeding.
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"Hold this." He places Brian's hand over the towel and then quickly gets to his feet and heads for the kitchen. There's the noise of drawers and cupboards being rummaged through, followed by the sound of water running. When Jim returns to Brian's side a minute later, he's got a bottle of ibuprofen in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
"I know you need something stronger than this, but anything's better than nothing at this point."
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Maybe that was his way of making sure Jim didn't have blood on his hands. If he bled out, Jim didn't kill him.
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Hurriedly, he shakes out three tablets from the bottle, but then he reconsiders and adds a fourth.
"I know it hurts." He's got his fingers in Brian's mouth now, trying to shove the ibuprofen in without getting bitten in the process. "C'mon, Gamble. Just get these down."
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He's out. Definitely this time.
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Yeah, there are a lot of things Jim should do, but he doesn't. It's a gamble -- no pun intended -- to try to deal with this on his own when he's anything but qualified to handle it, but taking Brian to the hospital is tantamount to turning him in.
For the time being, Jim eases Brian down all the way to the floor before the other man falls over of his own accord. Belatedly, Street remembers something about elevating a bleeding wound, but all he can do is improvise now with two phone books and old dictionary to prop Brian's arm up at a higher angle. The break is an additional problem, though, especially when Jim doesn't have anything on hand for a splint ... or does he?
It's ironic to be using a police baton as a splint on Gamble, but it works, and Jim didn't really wear that belt anyways. The blood flow seems to be slowing down a little now too, or maybe that's just wishful thinking.
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The main problem is dealing with the passed out mercenary who is currently being tended to by the man who he just tried to kill.
Yep. Fucked up.
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Now what?
"Dammit, Brian. You never could make anything easy for me, could you?"
After several moments of indecision, Jim grabs Gamble under the arms and starts moving him towards the bed in what passes for the guest room in the apartment. It's easier said than done, considering that he's got Brian's broken arm to contend with, but he finally gets Gamble laid out on the bed as best as he can.
The headboard is some curly wrought iron thing that Lara loved but Jim hated, but now it proves an ideal location for cuffing Gamble's wrist. After what Gamble said earlier, Street's not taking any chances.
That done, Jim begins to clean up the hallway, picking up bloodied towels and putting away first aid supplies and phone books.
Now that Brian's out, though, Jim has only his thoughts to fill the silence, and all he can find himself thinking about is just how fucked up this whole situation really is.
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...And the first thing that comes out of Gamble's smug mouth, weakly, is; "This is just gettin' more and more kinky, Jimbo." He calls out, not seeing Jim in the room.
"Next time, I'm expecting to find my pants 'round my ankles."
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He needs a moment to pull himself together, but then Street rolls out of bed and crosses the hallway into the other bedroom, grumbling something wholly uncomplimentary about Gamble's parentage.
"You should start a wishlist, Brian, you and your kinks." He shakes his head and tries to steer the conversation back to more neutral ground. "How do you feel?"
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Brian groans at that question. "Wondering why the fuck I'm still here." He rattles the cuff on the metal headboard as he moves to sit up... and fails, lying back down, looking a bit woozy.
"You didn't roofie me, too, did ya?"
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Jim's not really serious, though. Or maybe he is, but just a little.
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Aren't you glad you didn't let him bleed out, Jim? Huh?
"Hey, you gauzed up my arm wrong." He comments, shifting slightly. "And I'm still wondering why I'm still alive. Starting to think I was right, and you do want to keep me as a pet."
...He's fine-ish. His words are slurring, maybe keeping the bravado to distract from what he actually said a few hours ago.
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"You'd make a terrible pet. I'd have to feed you and take you for walks. I bet you're not even house trained."
Fine, though. Two can play at this game, and at least Jim's feeling awake enough not to stick his foot in mouth now.
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"You really don't want me to die."
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Slowly, he sinks down to sit on the edge of the bed by Gamble's feet, but it's a long moment before he says anything more.
"Last night, I thought you had died. I ... I don't want to go through that again."
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Whoops, give =/= five. ^_^;
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