[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. ]
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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. ]