[ Yo, he says. Gods, she could strangle him. Probably wouldn't be satisfying though — he doesn't look like he'd put up much of a fight. Just as well, because Andy's not wasting any time. She's seen plenty of men bleed to death, and like hell she's going to let that happen to Archie, the idiot. ]
There's always stupid ImPort shit going down. [ Her hands are rough but thorough as she begins to check him for wounds — trying to get an idea of whether it's as bad as it looks underneath all that blood. Fuck, where is all the blood even coming from? She needs to clean him up. ] What the hell did you do to yourself this time?
[ Rex better not be out there. He better be okay. She'd give a literal arm and a leg for him to walk in the door and berate them for all the goddamn blood stains right now. ]
It's a big one. [he winces and groans as she moves around-- looks like it's mostly lacerations. nothing fatal, though definitely injuries that should be wrapped before long. it's almost like we went out and tried to fight something very angry with a lot of claws that wasn't holding back...
(it's because that's what he did)] Lu and Guzma got... I don't know. Possessed, or something.
[he drops his head back, staring blankly at the ceiling.]
Her sword is in the hall. I had to... kill Guzma with it.
[speaking of blood, Martin finds himself doing a double-take at the kitchen mirror when he catches sight of himself, his clothes stained with Archie's blood. that's not even the worst of it -- it's more on his back, from where Archie had been slumped on him.
he can still smell it.
the hesitation is brief, because he shouldn't be just standing around when that blood is Archie's; he hastens back downstairs with the kit and towels Andy asked for, nudging Andy wordlessly upon returning.]
[ Her expression doesn't change much as Archie tells her what happened. Her hands don't stop their work. She heard him — Guzma's dead, Archie killed him, and that's shit they'll have to deal with eventually — but not now. She only glances up when she feels Martin nudge her, murmuring her thanks as she lifts her hands to smooth her wild hair back from her face into a knot at the back of her head. Absent red smears of blood mark her cheek, her forehead, but she doesn't seem bothered by it. Her tone is brisk when she instructs Martin: ]
Grab one of the big bowls from the kitchen, kiddo. Fill it with some warm water. [ She gives him a little pat on the arm, leaving another bloody smear. That one — that one, she seems to notice. Andy pauses, takes a second to really look at her son, covered in gore — the stain left by her fingers the least of it. That little pat turns into a gentle, but firm squeeze of Martin's arm. ] Bring that for me, then go get cleaned up, okay?
[ Her hand falls away. She'll take care of this. She's used to bloody work. ]
Help me. [ To Archie now, her voice quieter now. ] Show me where it hurts the worst.
[he gives martin another weak thumbs-up as the good good gremlin son comes in and out with the helpful items. that's the good shit. look at him go. he's too exhausted to feel guilty about what he's done to martin, because obviously it's his fault and something he could've avoided, despite almost dying in the street.
...again. arceus above, he needs to do something about his life.
shifting, he gestures vaguely at his thigh.]
There. I think he was going for... my femoral but missed.
[wordlessly, Martin moves to obey, still a little stuck on the smell of blood. seeing it soaking the couch doesn't help matters much, either...but he can keep moving even if his legs feel wobbly and ungainly from fatigue.
his only delay in returning is in having to refill the water when he realizes he'd left the tap on cold, but he comes back and carefully sets it down on the coffee table, gently nudging the fishbowl aside (currently retired from the Roomba service due to roof-based incidents highlighting household hazards).
from there he settles on his knees, watching Andy's hands, glancing at Archie's injuries intermittently, unsure if he should feel more worried than he does tired.]
[ Well. She's not going to be able to stitch him up like this, so — unceremoniously, Andy shucks Archie's pants right off, leaving the poor man in his underwear so that she can get eyes on the wound properly. There's nothing down there she hasn't seen before anyway, so she doesn't linger, instead moving to pour some antiseptic out onto one of the towels that Martin had brought for her. ]
I don't have to tell you this is going to hurt. [ Her hands hover over his bloody thigh. ] On three. One. Two.
[ That's all he gets before she presses the antiseptic-soaked cloth to the gash there, getting the stuff spread around good and thorough. To Martin, as she nods at a little sealed package inside the first aid kit: ]
Open that up for me. Should be a couple needle-drivers and some sutures in there. I'll show you how to use them.
[oh, he knew what to expect, but he still grips the couch and andy's forearm with enough force that it'll bruise. not that that matters-- the handprint shaped bruise will probably be gone from her skin within seconds.
he won't be any help here as he kicks his legs on the couch and swears loudly.
...at least martin can't learn any new words at this point.]
[any chance Marty might've nodded off is gone when the antiseptic is applied and Archie's sailor-speak is on blast. he jolts upright, eyes big and alarmed, heart in his throat, but save for a little sound, says nothing.
at least, not until it's apparent Andy's asking for something; he missed a bit of that and quickly snaps out of his daze.]
Uh, what? Oh-- [he fumbles with packaging, doing quick double-takes between it and Andy. needle drivers?? what's that? he hopes they're just needles, because otherwise--
oh, to hell with it:] He-here. [he shoves the half-open packet at her waiting hand.]
[ It doesn't seem to slow her much, Archie's deathgrip on her arm — and she doesn't try to pry him off, even though it must hurt, tight as he's holding onto her. It's all the comfort she can offer him in a dire situation. She won't take that away. Instead, Andy cleans up the best she can, wiping away most of the blood with that towel while Archie hollers in protest before tossing it aside to take the suture kit from Martin. She takes out what almost looks like a pair of tweezers and a set of tiny pliers, holding them up so that Martin can look. ]
Here, watch this. [ It'll be good for Martin to see. In case Archie ever needs to bleed on their couch again — or gods forbid, Rex. She peels open the thread, exposing the curved needle at the end and deftly using the tools to pick it up. ] It's all the wrist. Just rotate — let the needle do the work.
[ She glances up at Archie. ]
Try not to kick me.
[ Slightly more forewarning than with the antiseptic, but not much. He gets a half-second to brace himself before she gets to work, piercing the torn skin of his leg for the first stitch. At Martin: ]
There's a flask in my jacket pocket. Give it to him.
[he flops down when she removes the antiseptic. honestly, he can deal with the stitching better than he can the chemicals. still a little shaky and pale but not screeching anymore, he lets himself just. feel like he's beginning to decompose. hell, he even shifts so it's easier and more visible.]
Ass fuckin'-- shitty... ugh. [on the bright side, the pain brought back some adrenaline, so he can not entirely feel the needle.] Don't need it, m'good. I'm used to this part. I usually... black out like a bitch... before I get the septic shit.
[Martin isn't the one injured here, but he's pale and sweating all the same for Archie's sake. mutely, he fumbles for the pocket in question, deaf to Archie's assurances, and holds it out to be taken or not.
his eyes are fixed on Andy's work -- she did say watch, so he will. it's easier to focus in on the injury itself rather than see Archie's face connected to it -- makes it more like just meat and blood than a person he cares about.
the smell of blood and chemicals makes his stomach knot, but he doesn't dare look away.
[ Honestly, it makes no difference to her whether Archie decides he wants the flask or not. She's hardly even looking up anymore. Her hands work with a practiced steadiness, as if she's done this a thousand times before — and honestly, would it surprise anyone if she had? She's lived a long and bloody life. Watched a lot of people get hurt. And die. Been stubborn enough to try and stop it too, even when she knew the futility of it all.
The sutures are neat. Even. The wickedly curved needle pierces skin again and again. Every little tug of the nylon thread pulls the wound a little more closed. It isn't so different from mending clothes. There's a similar rhythm to it.
When she's done, she ties it off. She doesn't miss a beat, reaching into her jeans for her pocket knife, flicking it open with a quick motion of her wrist to cut away the tail. There. All finished. ]
That the worst of it? [ To Martin: ] Get some antiseptic on anything that looks big enough to get infected. We'll bandage the rest up.
[despite shittalking - which he does when he's not half-dead - archie makes for a good patient. he's developed a pretty decent pain tolerance so when andy is done with with the antiseptic on the biggest one, aside from some pathetic whines and wriggles, he doesn't do much.]
You should... teach me some of that, too... I think you'd be a better field medic tutor than the actual ones...
[blinking out of the trance that stitchwork put him in, Martin briefly has an incredulous look on his face. "big enough to get infected," she says? how is he supposed to know? Martin frowns, biting back on a want to impress exactly that before deciding...well...why not everything?
maybe she'll yell at him if he overdoes it. that's fine.
Better idea: How about you stop getting fucked up so I don't need to teach you?
[ Andy says that, but she knows it isn't likely. Archie's stupid and reckless, just like the rest of them. Just like her.
She takes a moment to wipe some of the blood off her hands and onto one of the towels — not because she cares about cleanliness, exactly, but more because it's hard to do this kind of work properly when your hands are slick. It gives Martin a moment to torture Archie — however unintentionally — before Andy turns back to see how he's doing. ]
[this bottle is nearly empty and Archie looks like he's spring-loaded and ready to launch himself through the ceiling -- even an unobservant kid like Martin can see it.]
[ What matters though is that everything's clean now! So, mission accomplished, Andy claps her son on the shoulder before getting to work on bandaging all those raw, stinging wounds up. ]
He'll be fine.
[ What, no sympathy, Andy? No compassion? ]
I know for a fact he's had worse.
[ Still, without drawing attention to it, she briefly closes her hand over the one Archie has white-knuckled in the couch cushion, giving him a fleeting but firm little squeeze. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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There's always stupid ImPort shit going down. [ Her hands are rough but thorough as she begins to check him for wounds — trying to get an idea of whether it's as bad as it looks underneath all that blood. Fuck, where is all the blood even coming from? She needs to clean him up. ] What the hell did you do to yourself this time?
[ Rex better not be out there. He better be okay. She'd give a literal arm and a leg for him to walk in the door and berate them for all the goddamn blood stains right now. ]
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(it's because that's what he did)] Lu and Guzma got... I don't know. Possessed, or something.
[he drops his head back, staring blankly at the ceiling.]
Her sword is in the hall. I had to... kill Guzma with it.
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he can still smell it.
the hesitation is brief, because he shouldn't be just standing around when that blood is Archie's; he hastens back downstairs with the kit and towels Andy asked for, nudging Andy wordlessly upon returning.]
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Grab one of the big bowls from the kitchen, kiddo. Fill it with some warm water. [ She gives him a little pat on the arm, leaving another bloody smear. That one — that one, she seems to notice. Andy pauses, takes a second to really look at her son, covered in gore — the stain left by her fingers the least of it. That little pat turns into a gentle, but firm squeeze of Martin's arm. ] Bring that for me, then go get cleaned up, okay?
[ Her hand falls away. She'll take care of this. She's used to bloody work. ]
Help me. [ To Archie now, her voice quieter now. ] Show me where it hurts the worst.
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...again. arceus above, he needs to do something about his life.
shifting, he gestures vaguely at his thigh.]
There. I think he was going for... my femoral but missed.
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his only delay in returning is in having to refill the water when he realizes he'd left the tap on cold, but he comes back and carefully sets it down on the coffee table, gently nudging the fishbowl aside (currently retired from the Roomba service due to roof-based incidents highlighting household hazards).
from there he settles on his knees, watching Andy's hands, glancing at Archie's injuries intermittently, unsure if he should feel more worried than he does tired.]
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I don't have to tell you this is going to hurt. [ Her hands hover over his bloody thigh. ] On three. One. Two.
[ That's all he gets before she presses the antiseptic-soaked cloth to the gash there, getting the stuff spread around good and thorough. To Martin, as she nods at a little sealed package inside the first aid kit: ]
Open that up for me. Should be a couple needle-drivers and some sutures in there. I'll show you how to use them.
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[oh, he knew what to expect, but he still grips the couch and andy's forearm with enough force that it'll bruise. not that that matters-- the handprint shaped bruise will probably be gone from her skin within seconds.
he won't be any help here as he kicks his legs on the couch and swears loudly.
...at least martin can't learn any new words at this point.]
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at least, not until it's apparent Andy's asking for something; he missed a bit of that and quickly snaps out of his daze.]
Uh, what? Oh-- [he fumbles with packaging, doing quick double-takes between it and Andy. needle drivers?? what's that? he hopes they're just needles, because otherwise--
oh, to hell with it:] He-here. [he shoves the half-open packet at her waiting hand.]
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Here, watch this. [ It'll be good for Martin to see. In case Archie ever needs to bleed on their couch again — or gods forbid, Rex. She peels open the thread, exposing the curved needle at the end and deftly using the tools to pick it up. ] It's all the wrist. Just rotate — let the needle do the work.
[ She glances up at Archie. ]
Try not to kick me.
[ Slightly more forewarning than with the antiseptic, but not much. He gets a half-second to brace himself before she gets to work, piercing the torn skin of his leg for the first stitch. At Martin: ]
There's a flask in my jacket pocket. Give it to him.
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Ass fuckin'-- shitty... ugh. [on the bright side, the pain brought back some adrenaline, so he can not entirely feel the needle.] Don't need it, m'good. I'm used to this part. I usually... black out like a bitch... before I get the septic shit.
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his eyes are fixed on Andy's work -- she did say watch, so he will. it's easier to focus in on the injury itself rather than see Archie's face connected to it -- makes it more like just meat and blood than a person he cares about.
the smell of blood and chemicals makes his stomach knot, but he doesn't dare look away.
it's like watching his sister stitch fabric.
blood-oozing fabric.]
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The sutures are neat. Even. The wickedly curved needle pierces skin again and again. Every little tug of the nylon thread pulls the wound a little more closed. It isn't so different from mending clothes. There's a similar rhythm to it.
When she's done, she ties it off. She doesn't miss a beat, reaching into her jeans for her pocket knife, flicking it open with a quick motion of her wrist to cut away the tail. There. All finished. ]
That the worst of it? [ To Martin: ] Get some antiseptic on anything that looks big enough to get infected. We'll bandage the rest up.
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You should... teach me some of that, too... I think you'd be a better field medic tutor than the actual ones...
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maybe she'll yell at him if he overdoes it. that's fine.
sorry Archie. this is a lot.]
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[ Andy says that, but she knows it isn't likely. Archie's stupid and reckless, just like the rest of them. Just like her.
She takes a moment to wipe some of the blood off her hands and onto one of the towels — not because she cares about cleanliness, exactly, but more because it's hard to do this kind of work properly when your hands are slick. It gives Martin a moment to torture Archie — however unintentionally — before Andy turns back to see how he's doing. ]
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really hard not to scream in martin's face. he has his arm over his eyes and is gripping the couch cushion so hard his knuckles have gone white.
it's fine.]
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[this bottle is nearly empty and Archie looks like he's spring-loaded and ready to launch himself through the ceiling -- even an unobservant kid like Martin can see it.]
Is everything going to be better?
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He'll be fine.
[ What, no sympathy, Andy? No compassion? ]
I know for a fact he's had worse.
[ Still, without drawing attention to it, she briefly closes her hand over the one Archie has white-knuckled in the couch cushion, giving him a fleeting but firm little squeeze. ]