[ It's 3am. Archie might be awake, he might be asleep, he might even be... busy... But here's Rupert, maskless but still clad in the thick, lightly-armoured leathers that he'd worn to the museum break-in-slash-accidental-gun/knife/portal-fight, ripping open a noisy portal that sounds like the fabric of reality itself is being torn in two. Through the portal he tumbles, streaming crimson blood and shockingly white-faced, his expression livid with anger as he crashes into Archie's bedroom with all the grace of a blood-soaked Bambi. ]
Archie! Archie, thank fuck -- [ Rupert sinks to a knee, mostly out of lightheadedness, and grits his teeth against the fresh pain the movement inspires. ] I -- may need your help...
[he wasn't quite asleep, but he was dozing in bed with his tv on and mightyena laying next to him. it's the awful smell of blood that hits archie first, mightyena immediately jumping up and growling at the intruder.]
Fuckin' shit-- [he grunts, getting up out the bed (let's all be glad tonight he decided to sleep in sweats and not buck ass naked) and recalls mightyena back into its pokéball before it can bite rupert.] You gotta give some god damn warning before you do this shit! Not even a text!
[boy is he glad he went with hardwood floors in here.]
Where are you hurt? Lay on the bed 'fore you get blood on my damn rug.
[ Was there a dog in here just now? he thinks to himself hazily before tumbling obediently into Archie's bed with a stifled yelp of pain. It's a nice bed, it's a good bed, but right now there's a serious stabbing situation in his waist that's preventing him from saying as much right now. ]
Couldn't text you - my hands were busy, see... [ He peels a sticky palm away from the oozing wound in his flank and peers at it with a grimace. ] A blade, here...
[ And it hurts, it really hurts, but Rupert isn't going to admit as such out loud. Not verbally, at least. ]
Gross. That's fucking gross. [muttered angrily as he quickly crosses the room to turn the light on.] Right, I'm no doctor so I can't advise you on official terms, but...
[he doesn't waste any time putting his hand gently on rupert's leg, just below the wound. pastel rainbow mist starts to gather around his hand and leak into the gash.]
This might hurt, if the muscle's ripped. Try not to scream too much, my neighbors have itchy trigger fingers and a hero streak the size of a city.
[he's talking shit, but he's found that "helps" in a way to give them something to reply to.
[ In his pain-addled state only about 50% of that actually made any sense to Rupert. It all hurts quite frankly, and the idea of it hurting more feels nigh-on impossible... But the bit about trigger fingers and screaming (oh god) leaves him rigid with suspicion as he stares up at Archie in alarm, unable to go any paler than his current shade of acute-bloodloss-ivory. ]
What does that mean? [ Is he going to scream? Why is he going to scream? Rupert pulls away from the magic hand slightly, cringing away from the mist now that Archie's told him he's going to scream. ] Damn it, Archie, I thought you healers make things like this better, not worse!
I'm not going to make it worse. The pain's just gonna shift as it heals. Some people find it pretty unpleasant.
[he looks around for a moment, then just decides fuck it.]
...Actually I think they're all away tonight, so... that's something! [christ he's bad at this.] I got some good brandy you can have if you let me do this, alright? That sound good? Havin' nice brandy instead of bleedin' out in my room?
Brandy. [ Rupert nods, tight-lipped. Even if he wasn't seeping blood into Archie's nice bed, Rupert would still probably want brandy. He curls his hand protectively back over his wound, shielding it from the mist until he gets his booze. ]
[ Honestly, Archie could have served it in a sippy cup and Rupert would have been thankful. He struggles up with a grimace of pain - his side was the worst place to get stabbed in, he swears to GOD - and gratefully takes both cups with shaky, blood-sticky hands. ]
God! Thank you, you're a saint-- [ The words are cut off as Rupert greedily buries his face in the first cup, resurfacing only after he's had a soul-fortifying mouthful. Later he'll remember to ask why the hell Archie has brandy - like, what is he, an eighty year old duke? - but for now he's just stupidly grateful for the distracting, unpleasant burn of spirit. ]
Right. Right. [ Another mouthful, larger than the first. He nods at Archie, white faced but determined. ] Whatever you're about to do, be quick. I shan't scream but I may kick you, and for that I apologise in advance...
[ Let him just drain this cup first! He needs this! ]
[ But Rupert has thighs for DAYS and he knows exactly how hard hr can kick - things he nearly points out to Archie, but then the hands happen. There isn't enough brandy in the world to make this kind of pain okay; Rupert writhes beneath Archie's touch, gasping in suppressed agony. And somehow doesn't spill any of his drink, which is a miracle in itself. ]
Christ Almighty, [ He hisses breathlessly, squirming against the pain. ] How - how do you make this worse than being stabbed?
[ He'd laugh if he wasn't in so much pain; as it is Rupert just offers a shaky smile between gritted teeth. ]
Something like that...
[ A fine layer of sweat has broken out across his forehead (and very nearly everywhere else too) and the knuckles of each hand have gone white around his brandy. Honestly, Archie, he'll give you the whole story when he's less likely to puke, okay? Okay. ]
[ Thirty seconds sounds awful but Rupert takes a shaky breath and grits his teeth afresh, tensing beneath Archie's hands as he endures the last half minute. He's pale as death but putting on a brave face, refusing to cry out even as the pain crescendos and he counts in a hoarse whisper all the way down to zero. ]
[when it seems like the wound has completely closed up, archie lets go and steps back. picks up the bottle from where he'd dumped it on the floor and holds it out.]
[ He takes the bottle but doesn't drink, instead letting his head fall back against the pillow with a shaky, relieved laugh. Not being in pain feels blissful now. ]
Give me a moment and I'll clean it up, don't you fret. It's the least I can do, all things considered...
[ With one sticky hand he feels out the healed skin at his side, where the blade had sliced him open so cleanly. Opening his eyes once more he peers at the bloodied, ragged hole in his black jumpsuit with a grimace. He'll have to find someone with magical sewing powers in the morning. ]
You've done a damned fine job, you know. I'm highly impressed.
One of those 'better the less you know' things, I imagine.
[ Not that Rupert is squeamish but he's happy for his insides to remain a mystery to everyone, thanks! He wipes the bloody hand against his black clothes and takes a healthy swig straight from the bottle. ]
Thank you, quite honestly. I believe I owe you a considerable favour now.
[ Spaghetti-looking. Yeah, Rupert see that. He nods sagely as he slowly peels himself away from Archie's blood-stained sheets and sits up with a hand pressed gingerly over where the wound was. ]
I'm always surprised by how much blue-y purple there is, [ He replies conversationally. ] On the inside, I mean.
You've had worse on it, I'm quite sure, [ Rupert points out amiably as he shuffles to the edge of the bed, dragging a handful of Archie's sheets with him. He bundles them up, sticky patches and all, and regards the armful. ]
Blood is terribly difficult to get out, you know. Shall I dispose of them and buy you fresh things?
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4th nov | action
Archie! Archie, thank fuck -- [ Rupert sinks to a knee, mostly out of lightheadedness, and grits his teeth against the fresh pain the movement inspires. ] I -- may need your help...
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Fuckin' shit-- [he grunts, getting up out the bed (let's all be glad tonight he decided to sleep in sweats and not buck ass naked) and recalls mightyena back into its pokéball before it can bite rupert.] You gotta give some god damn warning before you do this shit! Not even a text!
[boy is he glad he went with hardwood floors in here.]
Where are you hurt? Lay on the bed 'fore you get blood on my damn rug.
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Couldn't text you - my hands were busy, see... [ He peels a sticky palm away from the oozing wound in his flank and peers at it with a grimace. ] A blade, here...
[ And it hurts, it really hurts, but Rupert isn't going to admit as such out loud. Not verbally, at least. ]
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[he doesn't waste any time putting his hand gently on rupert's leg, just below the wound. pastel rainbow mist starts to gather around his hand and leak into the gash.]
This might hurt, if the muscle's ripped. Try not to scream too much, my neighbors have itchy trigger fingers and a hero streak the size of a city.
[he's talking shit, but he's found that "helps" in a way to give them something to reply to.
...and he saw it on tv.]
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What does that mean? [ Is he going to scream? Why is he going to scream? Rupert pulls away from the magic hand slightly, cringing away from the mist now that Archie's told him he's going to scream. ] Damn it, Archie, I thought you healers make things like this better, not worse!
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[he looks around for a moment, then just decides fuck it.]
...Actually I think they're all away tonight, so... that's something! [christ he's bad at this.] I got some good brandy you can have if you let me do this, alright? That sound good? Havin' nice brandy instead of bleedin' out in my room?
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Big glass. Maybe two, one for each hand.
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[SLOW INHALE. slow exhale. fine. FINE!!! archie disappears for a moment and brings rupert back two
plastic cups
of brandy.]
I'm not risking ya breaking my nice crystal shit. Move your damn hand.
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God! Thank you, you're a saint-- [ The words are cut off as Rupert greedily buries his face in the first cup, resurfacing only after he's had a soul-fortifying mouthful. Later he'll remember to ask why the hell Archie has brandy - like, what is he, an eighty year old duke? - but for now he's just stupidly grateful for the distracting, unpleasant burn of spirit. ]
Right. Right. [ Another mouthful, larger than the first. He nods at Archie, white faced but determined. ] Whatever you're about to do, be quick. I shan't scream but I may kick you, and for that I apologise in advance...
[ Let him just drain this cup first! He needs this! ]
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[he gives rupert's forearm a little squeeze, then shifts his hands to the wound. using both of them to make it go a little faster.
it doesn't, but it's a placebo archie isn't aware of just yet.]
We're good. Just tell me if you want me to stop if the pain gets too much or whatever, aite?
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Christ Almighty, [ He hisses breathlessly, squirming against the pain. ] How - how do you make this worse than being stabbed?
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[he keeps his hands on rupert, seeing as he's not been told to stop. there's nothing else he can really do.]
How'd this happen, anyway? You make a pass at the wrong person?
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Something like that...
[ A fine layer of sweat has broken out across his forehead (and very nearly everywhere else too) and the knuckles of each hand have gone white around his brandy. Honestly, Archie, he'll give you the whole story when he's less likely to puke, okay? Okay. ]
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Great. Almost done. Count down from 30.
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[ Thirty seconds sounds awful but Rupert takes a shaky breath and grits his teeth afresh, tensing beneath Archie's hands as he endures the last half minute. He's pale as death but putting on a brave face, refusing to cry out even as the pain crescendos and he counts in a hoarse whisper all the way down to zero. ]
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There ya go! That weren't so bad, was it?
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[ He takes the bottle but doesn't drink, instead letting his head fall back against the pillow with a shaky, relieved laugh. Not being in pain feels blissful now. ]
We've had better nights together, haven't we?
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[he grimaces.]
...S'more fun when I don't have to clean it up.
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[ With one sticky hand he feels out the healed skin at his side, where the blade had sliced him open so cleanly. Opening his eyes once more he peers at the bloodied, ragged hole in his black jumpsuit with a grimace. He'll have to find someone with magical sewing powers in the morning. ]
You've done a damned fine job, you know. I'm highly impressed.
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[he has blankets and stuff he can use.]
Luckily my power means I don't need any medical knowledge, because I sure as shit ain't got none of that.
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[ Not that Rupert is squeamish but he's happy for his insides to remain a mystery to everyone, thanks! He wipes the bloody hand against his black clothes and takes a healthy swig straight from the bottle. ]
Thank you, quite honestly. I believe I owe you a considerable favour now.
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[god, he's seen way too much shit.]
Nah, it's good. Don't worry about it. Just bunch all that stuff up into a bag and we'll call it even.
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I'm always surprised by how much blue-y purple there is, [ He replies conversationally. ] On the inside, I mean.
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Blood is terribly difficult to get out, you know. Shall I dispose of them and buy you fresh things?
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