[ everything at this point is slick and slippery with blood, david's been trying to ignore it and just power through but at this point it's hard to see what he's doing and it's even harder to keep a grip on evan's skin or the needle. ]
Explain that one to me.
[ he raises an eyebrow at evan as he wrings out the rag and brings it to wipe up evan's shoulder, gives the needle a once over too and wipes the blood off his hands, looking at the way the wound in evan's shoulder is torn all the way across and frowning at how little progress he feels like he's made, getting back to it with a sigh. this asshole needs a staple gun. ]
[ evan's well aware that any needle that isn't industrial-grade would probably bend itself out of shape on his skin, especially around the hook. that doesn't mean he's going to acknowledge the fact, or avoid pissing off david just because. gratitude is not one of his strong suits. it's almost not there at all.
he smirks a little at the bottle, which is starting to swim a little in his vision. not a great sign. still, it'll take more than this to kill him (probably) especially with someone there to try and deal with it (for the time being). ]
Glue might ... [ he trails off for a second, trying to focus. ] ... work better.
[ david does roll his eyes at that, unimpressed and annoyed, but any response he might have falls away when he catches the way evan trails off. he tilts his head to get a look at his face, try and judge if that's blood loss or booze — probably the former if he's honest with himself, but the latter's probably contributing a bit too. ]
[ he's got the hole that evan pulled the hook from closed, that should slow the blood, but the ruin of skin left where it was ripped across doesn't give him much hope it's gonna make much of a difference. ]
You got any glue or is that just an unhelpful suggestion?
[ he remembers using glue from time to time. not often, but enough. it meant the wound was dealt with without hiding it. and sometimes stitches just didn't work. but at the end of the day, he wasn't supposed to get hurt. he was supposed to be better than that.
evan looks into the darkness of his own workshop and gestures with the bottle. ]
Somewhere.
[ one of the worktables does have some, jammed in the back of a drawer. it's not medical glue, but here, that's not really an issue. it'll suffice if david can find it. right now, though, he can't remember where the hell it is, and he probably wouldn't be able to find it if he tried. he'd probably collapse if he tried to stand up at all.
so for now, for once, he sits and lets david make the decision. the pain from the wire stitching is radiating through his shoulder and the blood loss is getting to him. the alcohol might be helping those, but it's taking his focus out, too. not the best situation for a man used to killing everyone around him. ]
[ flat, deadpan as he looks into the workshop. at the shelves full of old jars and bottles, at the collections of stuff, boxes of god knows what under the benches. he could search for hours and not find anything. ]
[ glue would be faster, and easier, but in the time it would take him to find it, he might be able to finish sewing this up instead. ]
You get a better idea where exactly, let me know.
[ though david doubts that's happening with the state evan's in. ]
[ david's tone gets through the haze, making him look over finally. ]
Thought you loved wrecking the shit out of this place.
[ digging through his things. his things. all of them have done it, or at least all the bolder ones have, but over time people slowed down. there were other, less dangerous places to steal from, with better things to steal. he's always been glad about that.
still. some of them still do it for the thrill. or just to see how pissed off he can get. same thing for some of them, really. ]
[ oh great, here they go. back to evan's endless list of grievances. ]
Yeah? And when's the last time I did that, huh?
[ accompanied by another sharp tug of wire to punctuate his point. david's not going to sit here and take shit from evan when he's here trying to stop him bleeding out. especially not about something he doesn't even do anymore. ]
[ the jab makes him wince, just a little, and even if there's still something like a smirk on his face he glares at david. point made, he supposes. ]
Dunno. Figure I can't always tell. The rest of you ... just whenever you fuckin' feel like it.
[ he manages another drink, bad of an idea as it might be. the first injury, stitched closed, is slowly starting to pull itself back together. the wiring might be helping and it might just have no point. after all, the hook'll be back eventually. one more trial and it'll be like it never came out. ]
[ his hand is really starting to hurt, a sharp hiss slipping out as he forces the needle through with his thumb. ]
Don't even touch your traps if I don't have to anymore neither.
[ he's not expecting gratitude, or much of anything really, he'd just appreciate if evan would stop lumping him in with everyone when he's pissed. always with the "you lot" as if they're some homogenous whole, as if david's just another face in a crowd. pisses him off. ]
[ evan snorts, as if he doesn't believe it. it is true, though. he's noticed it. that's actually bothered him. avoiding traps so he doesn't get alerted is one thing. it's intelligent. sensible. avoiding them out of actual courtesy ... that's different. it's what people like anna and philip do. not survivors.
if i don't have to. that suggests more self-interest, so he doesn't say anything about it, but there's still something wrong about it. ]
Take your word for it.
[ he doesn't really notice david's anger with this kind of haze. he will later. he'll wonder about it, maybe even bring it up. but right now he's struggling enough that it's just words, the tone as normal as anything he remembers.
he growls as the needle pierces through him again, but doesn't lash out. not really enough strength left for that, either. ]
[ as much as that annoys him, evan's clearly in no state to fight about it, so david leaves it alone. tries not to think about why that bothers him either, the way something sinks in him at how little energy evan's got, subconsciously doubling down on trying to get this done faster. ]
Almost done.
[ well, he's about halfway, maybe two thirds, but david thinks that counts as almost. ]
[ almost done. it doesn't feel like it. he can still feel the injury, but maybe that's just how it feels, even stitched shut. he glances over and sees the bloody wire, the way david's still working, even if he's pissed off.
why even bother, really? of course, why does he bother with treating anyone's injuries around here himself? half to make them owe a debt, half because he doesn't want them bleeding everywhere and attracting things like the demogorgon. that's all, really. or so he's always thought.
if he's almost done, no point in bothering him. evan focuses on the brandy and lets david finish, snarling when the wire drags against the open injuries but otherwise without any further commentary. ]
[ there's some quiet noises from david — pain from pushing the needle though evan's skin, frustration... also from pushing the needle through evan's skin — but he otherwise has little to say, working as quick as circumstances will allow, occasionally glancing at evan's face to make sure he's still alive. ]
[ once he's done, he grabs the pliers to help him tie things off and cut the wire, and then he grabs the bandage. thinks about wrestling evan to get it on him and weighs that against how much it'll even help and decides it's probably not worth it. ]
[ he's pretty sure he's survived losing more blood than this before, but it's hard to remember. he's fought a lot of people here. some of them were stronger than him, or luckier in the moment, or got the drop on him. the demogorgon probably just acted on instinct and managed to get the worst possible grip. it's no worse than anna landing an axe full-on in his chest, which she's done from time to time.
still. focus is difficult. the alcohol isn't helping with that even if it's helping with the pain. he doesn't speak because david doesn't until the pliers get involved. that's enough of a spark of pain to get his attention. ]
Yeah.
[ not dead. that's all that matters, really. even if it doesn't matter at all. ]
Finally got me on my knees and all you can say is "good brandy."
[ he's a comedian. ]
[ david reaches for the bucket to rinse his hands off, it doesn't do a great job with the amount of evan's blood he's wiped up, but it's enough that his hands come away mostly clean-ish when he wipes them off on his jeans. it's good enough he can inspect the damage; his palm has a few angry looking patches that'll probably bruise and there's a blood blister forming on his thumb, some pinpricks on his other hand that are bleeding a bit too but that's nothing worth his time. his hand is also just kind of sore and tired, but that'll pass soon enough. ]
[ that gets another smirk, this one slightly more focused. got him on his knees. that's a first, isn't it. ]
Expecting something else? Didn't think ...
[ the world swims for a few seconds, then rights itself. evan shakes himself, which brings the pain back a little too sharply. ]
Didn't think you wanted me thankin' you.
[ he's not getting up for a while in this condition. he won't notice david's injuries now, but might recognize them later. or at least grasp that they were inevitable. for now, he's keeping alert, but only barely. ]
Why wouldn't I? [ probably because it would be awkward and uncomfortable as hell for both of them. ] Just don't need it.
[ david watches evan, trying to get an idea of how he's doing. he'll probably be fine now he's not just oozing blood all over the place. he wonders if he should try and move him, could try and get him to the bed, but a deeply selfish part of him thinks he hasn't gotten his bottle's worth of sleep yet and he doesn't want to share. ]
[ if he'd been more alert, he might have said something vulgar instead of something bordering on vulnerable for both of them. as it is, he gestures with the bottle as if to dismiss david. he probably won't remember most of this later.
he's barely aware of it all now as he manages to get another drink out of the bottle before things really start to swim. he stays where he is, breathing if otherwise unmoving, so david's essentially got free rein here. it might have worried him before.
but he's not going to get angry if david just goes back to sleep. well. he won't get angrier than usual, anyway. ]
[ he's not getting anything else out of evan, he's drunk on brandy and blood loss. david stands after a moment and starts to head back toward the bedroom, a grimace at the way his pants stick to him after kneeling in evan's blood. ]
[ he can't just leave him there. david sighs, annoyed, but he knows he'll feel awful about just leaving him in the floor. no idea why, because evan certainly wouldn't if their roles were reversed, and it's going to be a pain getting evan up and moving him. ]
[ david comes back and crouches in front of him, reaching for evan's good arm to pull him up. ]
[ evan, for his part, does nothing to help. and evan's almost seven feet tall, almost completely muscle. he's an immovable force - one of many in the fog - and several people have found that out the hard way. others have found it out by trying to do what david's doing.
it's impossible to move him like this unless he's dragged. he's not even being obstinate: he's just not moving. he's dead weight, fully and almost literally.
some part of him is just about aware enough to wave the bottle dismissively again, although just barely. leave it. the same old command from before, which david ignored. he won't argue about being dragged, but it'll be a hell of a trial for david. ]
[ david tries to pull him to him to his feet and gets nothing for it. he plants his feet and dips his hips just a tiny bit to get some extra stability and pulls evan's arm again and still gets nothing. if he could at least get the man to his feet, david could shoulder the weight and get him to the bed, but like this? ]
[ again, he considers just leaving evan here, but he's committed to this now. he exhales heavily and kicks evan's legs apart so there's space to squat between them, lift his legs so he can pull his thighs up to wrap his arms around them and brace them against his hips and stands with no small amount of effort, trying to drag him toward the back this way. ]
[ at least if he hits his head he's probably too fucking out of it to wake up and bitch at david about it. ]
[ that works. surprisingly well, too, or at least that's what evan will think if he ever finds out david did this. the brandy hits the floor, although there's not a lot left to spill, as he gets pulled along the floor.
there's moment where his arm or arms catch something, where the metal still in him drags along the floor. where he his head hits a table leg. none of it wakes him up. between alcohol and blood loss he's gone, at least for a while. until he heals enough to come back to himself.
although in the end it might be pain that gets him back to the world of consciousness. that's about the entity's normal process. ]
[ okay. fuck. david pauses once he's got evan in the room and takes a quick moment to catch his breath while he adjusts, and then pulls him up on to the bed. ]
[ part of him halfway entertains the idea of cleaning the workshop, at least making it less obvious somebody was dragged back here, but he's exhausted. it's about all he can do to drag evan up and get him more or less laying the right way before tiredly throwing him down on his side to pass the hell out, facing away from evan. ]
[ evan stays as close to dead weight as possible throughout the whole process. his shoulder heals, very slowly. and as expected, eventually, the pain wakes him up.
waking up in an unfamiliar place is nothing new to him; the entity doesn't always bring him back home in the aftermath of whatever knocked him out or killed him. but this place is familiar. just enough to confuse him as the pain throbs through him. it takes a while for the not-quite-hangover to fade away enough that he recognizes the room, which then presents the problem of how he got here because he doesn't sleep in here.
he sits up and gets off the bed, slowly, but something about the way it sounds when he moves is different. a glance back confirms that's because david is still on the bed. that he doesn't remember. it'd be less concerning if they were naked, but as it is?
the stitches in his shoulder remind him of the fight. the smell of brandy that spilled on his waders reminds him of what happened next. but after that it's nothing. did david actually drag his ass in here? why?
he opts to not wake him up and demand answers. the sight of blood trailed along the floor into the room says enough. instead he heads back out into the workshop to try and clean up some of the mess, because things generally don't improve in here. it's not a trial ground. he can get aggressive once david wakes up. ]
[ first of all, david barely stirs when evan gets up. typically he's a light sleeper, but he's tired. it's not the most tired he's been in the fog, not even here, but it's a heavy kind of tiredness. and evan left a warm spot on the bed that david subconsciously rolls into now that there's space enough on the bed for him to stretch out. ]
[ it doesn't take much longer than that for david to wake up though, the change in pressure on the bed maybe. or maybe it's just enough sleep. whatever it is, he groggily gets up (so probably not enough sleep then,) not even registering that evan's not on the bed, and walks out to the workshop to see what's going on. mostly if the mess is as bad as he remembers. ]
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Explain that one to me.
[ he raises an eyebrow at evan as he wrings out the rag and brings it to wipe up evan's shoulder, gives the needle a once over too and wipes the blood off his hands, looking at the way the wound in evan's shoulder is torn all the way across and frowning at how little progress he feels like he's made, getting back to it with a sigh. this asshole needs a staple gun. ]
How's it my fault exactly?
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[ evan's well aware that any needle that isn't industrial-grade would probably bend itself out of shape on his skin, especially around the hook. that doesn't mean he's going to acknowledge the fact, or avoid pissing off david just because. gratitude is not one of his strong suits. it's almost not there at all.
he smirks a little at the bottle, which is starting to swim a little in his vision. not a great sign. still, it'll take more than this to kill him (probably) especially with someone there to try and deal with it (for the time being). ]
Glue might ... [ he trails off for a second, trying to focus. ] ... work better.
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[ david does roll his eyes at that, unimpressed and annoyed, but any response he might have falls away when he catches the way evan trails off. he tilts his head to get a look at his face, try and judge if that's blood loss or booze — probably the former if he's honest with himself, but the latter's probably contributing a bit too. ]
[ he's got the hole that evan pulled the hook from closed, that should slow the blood, but the ruin of skin left where it was ripped across doesn't give him much hope it's gonna make much of a difference. ]
You got any glue or is that just an unhelpful suggestion?
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evan looks into the darkness of his own workshop and gestures with the bottle. ]
Somewhere.
[ one of the worktables does have some, jammed in the back of a drawer. it's not medical glue, but here, that's not really an issue. it'll suffice if david can find it. right now, though, he can't remember where the hell it is, and he probably wouldn't be able to find it if he tried. he'd probably collapse if he tried to stand up at all.
so for now, for once, he sits and lets david make the decision. the pain from the wire stitching is radiating through his shoulder and the blood loss is getting to him. the alcohol might be helping those, but it's taking his focus out, too. not the best situation for a man used to killing everyone around him. ]
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[ flat, deadpan as he looks into the workshop. at the shelves full of old jars and bottles, at the collections of stuff, boxes of god knows what under the benches. he could search for hours and not find anything. ]
[ glue would be faster, and easier, but in the time it would take him to find it, he might be able to finish sewing this up instead. ]
You get a better idea where exactly, let me know.
[ though david doubts that's happening with the state evan's in. ]
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Thought you loved wrecking the shit out of this place.
[ digging through his things. his things. all of them have done it, or at least all the bolder ones have, but over time people slowed down. there were other, less dangerous places to steal from, with better things to steal. he's always been glad about that.
still. some of them still do it for the thrill. or just to see how pissed off he can get. same thing for some of them, really. ]
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Yeah? And when's the last time I did that, huh?
[ accompanied by another sharp tug of wire to punctuate his point. david's not going to sit here and take shit from evan when he's here trying to stop him bleeding out. especially not about something he doesn't even do anymore. ]
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Dunno. Figure I can't always tell. The rest of you ... just whenever you fuckin' feel like it.
[ he manages another drink, bad of an idea as it might be. the first injury, stitched closed, is slowly starting to pull itself back together. the wiring might be helping and it might just have no point. after all, the hook'll be back eventually. one more trial and it'll be like it never came out. ]
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[ his hand is really starting to hurt, a sharp hiss slipping out as he forces the needle through with his thumb. ]
Don't even touch your traps if I don't have to anymore neither.
[ he's not expecting gratitude, or much of anything really, he'd just appreciate if evan would stop lumping him in with everyone when he's pissed. always with the "you lot" as if they're some homogenous whole, as if david's just another face in a crowd. pisses him off. ]
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if i don't have to. that suggests more self-interest, so he doesn't say anything about it, but there's still something wrong about it. ]
Take your word for it.
[ he doesn't really notice david's anger with this kind of haze. he will later. he'll wonder about it, maybe even bring it up. but right now he's struggling enough that it's just words, the tone as normal as anything he remembers.
he growls as the needle pierces through him again, but doesn't lash out. not really enough strength left for that, either. ]
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Almost done.
[ well, he's about halfway, maybe two thirds, but david thinks that counts as almost. ]
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why even bother, really? of course, why does he bother with treating anyone's injuries around here himself? half to make them owe a debt, half because he doesn't want them bleeding everywhere and attracting things like the demogorgon. that's all, really. or so he's always thought.
if he's almost done, no point in bothering him. evan focuses on the brandy and lets david finish, snarling when the wire drags against the open injuries but otherwise without any further commentary. ]
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[ once he's done, he grabs the pliers to help him tie things off and cut the wire, and then he grabs the bandage. thinks about wrestling evan to get it on him and weighs that against how much it'll even help and decides it's probably not worth it. ]
[ he tilts his head to look at evan's face. ]
Still alive?
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still. focus is difficult. the alcohol isn't helping with that even if it's helping with the pain. he doesn't speak because david doesn't until the pliers get involved. that's enough of a spark of pain to get his attention. ]
Yeah.
[ not dead. that's all that matters, really. even if it doesn't matter at all. ]
Nice job. On the brandy.
[ at least he's semi-coherent. ]
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[ he's a comedian. ]
[ david reaches for the bucket to rinse his hands off, it doesn't do a great job with the amount of evan's blood he's wiped up, but it's enough that his hands come away mostly clean-ish when he wipes them off on his jeans. it's good enough he can inspect the damage; his palm has a few angry looking patches that'll probably bruise and there's a blood blister forming on his thumb, some pinpricks on his other hand that are bleeding a bit too but that's nothing worth his time. his hand is also just kind of sore and tired, but that'll pass soon enough. ]
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Expecting something else? Didn't think ...
[ the world swims for a few seconds, then rights itself. evan shakes himself, which brings the pain back a little too sharply. ]
Didn't think you wanted me thankin' you.
[ he's not getting up for a while in this condition. he won't notice david's injuries now, but might recognize them later. or at least grasp that they were inevitable. for now, he's keeping alert, but only barely. ]
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[ david watches evan, trying to get an idea of how he's doing. he'll probably be fine now he's not just oozing blood all over the place. he wonders if he should try and move him, could try and get him to the bed, but a deeply selfish part of him thinks he hasn't gotten his bottle's worth of sleep yet and he doesn't want to share. ]
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he's barely aware of it all now as he manages to get another drink out of the bottle before things really start to swim. he stays where he is, breathing if otherwise unmoving, so david's essentially got free rein here. it might have worried him before.
but he's not going to get angry if david just goes back to sleep. well. he won't get angrier than usual, anyway. ]
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[ he can't just leave him there. david sighs, annoyed, but he knows he'll feel awful about just leaving him in the floor. no idea why, because evan certainly wouldn't if their roles were reversed, and it's going to be a pain getting evan up and moving him. ]
[ david comes back and crouches in front of him, reaching for evan's good arm to pull him up. ]
C'mon, big man.
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it's impossible to move him like this unless he's dragged. he's not even being obstinate: he's just not moving. he's dead weight, fully and almost literally.
some part of him is just about aware enough to wave the bottle dismissively again, although just barely. leave it. the same old command from before, which david ignored. he won't argue about being dragged, but it'll be a hell of a trial for david. ]
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[ again, he considers just leaving evan here, but he's committed to this now. he exhales heavily and kicks evan's legs apart so there's space to squat between them, lift his legs so he can pull his thighs up to wrap his arms around them and brace them against his hips and stands with no small amount of effort, trying to drag him toward the back this way. ]
[ at least if he hits his head he's probably too fucking out of it to wake up and bitch at david about it. ]
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there's moment where his arm or arms catch something, where the metal still in him drags along the floor. where he his head hits a table leg. none of it wakes him up. between alcohol and blood loss he's gone, at least for a while. until he heals enough to come back to himself.
although in the end it might be pain that gets him back to the world of consciousness. that's about the entity's normal process. ]
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[ part of him halfway entertains the idea of cleaning the workshop, at least making it less obvious somebody was dragged back here, but he's exhausted. it's about all he can do to drag evan up and get him more or less laying the right way before tiredly throwing him down on his side to pass the hell out, facing away from evan. ]
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waking up in an unfamiliar place is nothing new to him; the entity doesn't always bring him back home in the aftermath of whatever knocked him out or killed him. but this place is familiar. just enough to confuse him as the pain throbs through him. it takes a while for the not-quite-hangover to fade away enough that he recognizes the room, which then presents the problem of how he got here because he doesn't sleep in here.
he sits up and gets off the bed, slowly, but something about the way it sounds when he moves is different. a glance back confirms that's because david is still on the bed. that he doesn't remember. it'd be less concerning if they were naked, but as it is?
the stitches in his shoulder remind him of the fight. the smell of brandy that spilled on his waders reminds him of what happened next. but after that it's nothing. did david actually drag his ass in here? why?
he opts to not wake him up and demand answers. the sight of blood trailed along the floor into the room says enough. instead he heads back out into the workshop to try and clean up some of the mess, because things generally don't improve in here. it's not a trial ground. he can get aggressive once david wakes up. ]
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[ it doesn't take much longer than that for david to wake up though, the change in pressure on the bed maybe. or maybe it's just enough sleep. whatever it is, he groggily gets up (so probably not enough sleep then,) not even registering that evan's not on the bed, and walks out to the workshop to see what's going on. mostly if the mess is as bad as he remembers. ]
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