[ 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. ]
[ he gave up on cleaning up most of the blood. just the pool by the door. the rest of it will get ground into the filth of the workshop, or covered up, or maybe even fade out with time. there's other stains - blood, and other things - for it to blend into.
the rest he's taken care of by the time david comes back. he's left the wire stitching as it is. that will handle itself, painfully; the hook always comes back with time. for now he's free of it, if not the rest of the metal.
evan looks over at david as he wipes the remaining blood off his hands with a filthy rag and considers his options. 'thank you' is out of the question. ignoring him probably is, too. getting angry right away isn't going to do any good. ]
Coulda left me there.
[ an opportunity for david to explain himself or lead to further questions. or maybe give evan a chance to get pissed off again. anything works. ]
Imagine someone comes down here, sees you like that, takes the easy kill.
[ which could, for a moment, sound like david cares about evan or something, except he follows it up with: ] After I spent all that time sewing up your fuckin' shoulder? Fuck that.
[ he only half believes david would be mad about his stitching going to waste, but he also doesn't really think about what the other reasons would be. doesn't really want to, either. ]
Coulda left me on the floor in there, then. Bed's barely big enough for me.
[ only partly true. it's a big bed. but he still takes up a hell of a lot of room on it. ]
[ he shrugs a shoulder. he could've but he didn't, david doesn't really see the big deal. he put an injured person to bed, that's a normal thing, isn't it? ]
[ the look he gives david is plainly unbelieving - he knows for a fact what a pain in the ass it is to haul him around when he's unconscious, or even half conscious - but he doesn't push it. ]
[ it was neither restful, nor comfortable, and david's not gonna lie about it, but it still beats whatever he can get by the campfire so he's not gonna complain either. evan would probably just say it's hos own fault anyway, and david's not interested in that fight. ]
[ evan snorts, which isn't really a laugh this time. of course it wasn't worth it. too late to take it back now. ]
Been worse. Be back to normal by the next trial.
[ that is to say, impaled and always painful. this isn't really a reprieve. still, he's not going to be outright ungrateful, even if he's not going to thank david. ]
[ "fucking animals" narrows the list considerably, but there's some middle ground between person and animal with killers out here. plus who knows if evan even meant it literally. ]
[ he also knows there's shit out there he's never seen, but david doubts that something came from way out in the fog, got evan, and then scarpered off back into the darkness. funny as that would be. ]
Said it was an animal, but I doubt Ripley's cat came and fucked your shit up.
[ as far as he's concerned, there's only three animals here: maurice, the dog that just showed up, and the fucking demogorgon. the dredge and the black insect thing are something he can't understand and neither is that ... thing they dealt with before, but neither one is an animal. whatever else roams in and back out again doesn't get in his way. and as much as he'd like to say some of the other killers are basically animals, he knows they're human. or were human. it's an insult to animals to try and put them on that level. ]
Don't think it even knew how bad it got me. Just kept slashing and kicking and got the wrong handhold.
[ the xenomorph's just a big bug, evan. and an apex predator. what's not to understand. ]
[ anyway, david grimaces at the mention of the demogorgon. he hates that thing almost as much as he hates listening to aestri and steve argue about how the demogorgon is a whole ass other thing like it matters. it's a big, awful, alien hunting dog monster with portals and it sucks. ]
Doubt it's that smart.
[ it's smarter than your average animal for sure, but picking out a specific weak spot like that seems a little beyond it. or maybe david just hopes that much. ]
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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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the rest he's taken care of by the time david comes back. he's left the wire stitching as it is. that will handle itself, painfully; the hook always comes back with time. for now he's free of it, if not the rest of the metal.
evan looks over at david as he wipes the remaining blood off his hands with a filthy rag and considers his options. 'thank you' is out of the question. ignoring him probably is, too. getting angry right away isn't going to do any good. ]
Coulda left me there.
[ an opportunity for david to explain himself or lead to further questions. or maybe give evan a chance to get pissed off again. anything works. ]
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[ which could, for a moment, sound like david cares about evan or something, except he follows it up with: ] After I spent all that time sewing up your fuckin' shoulder? Fuck that.
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[ he only half believes david would be mad about his stitching going to waste, but he also doesn't really think about what the other reasons would be. doesn't really want to, either. ]
Coulda left me on the floor in there, then. Bed's barely big enough for me.
[ only partly true. it's a big bed. but he still takes up a hell of a lot of room on it. ]
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[ he shrugs a shoulder. he could've but he didn't, david doesn't really see the big deal. he put an injured person to bed, that's a normal thing, isn't it? ]
Wasn't really much extra effort at that point.
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Get enough sleep?
[ a bottle of brandy's worth, at least. ]
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[ it was neither restful, nor comfortable, and david's not gonna lie about it, but it still beats whatever he can get by the campfire so he's not gonna complain either. evan would probably just say it's hos own fault anyway, and david's not interested in that fight. ]
How's your arm?
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Been worse. Be back to normal by the next trial.
[ that is to say, impaled and always painful. this isn't really a reprieve. still, he's not going to be outright ungrateful, even if he's not going to thank david. ]
It got lucky. Caught me at the worst spot.
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[ "fucking animals" narrows the list considerably, but there's some middle ground between person and animal with killers out here. plus who knows if evan even meant it literally. ]
[ he also knows there's shit out there he's never seen, but david doubts that something came from way out in the fog, got evan, and then scarpered off back into the darkness. funny as that would be. ]
Said it was an animal, but I doubt Ripley's cat came and fucked your shit up.
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Demogorgon.
[ as far as he's concerned, there's only three animals here: maurice, the dog that just showed up, and the fucking demogorgon. the dredge and the black insect thing are something he can't understand and neither is that ... thing they dealt with before, but neither one is an animal. whatever else roams in and back out again doesn't get in his way. and as much as he'd like to say some of the other killers are basically animals, he knows they're human. or were human. it's an insult to animals to try and put them on that level. ]
Don't think it even knew how bad it got me. Just kept slashing and kicking and got the wrong handhold.
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[ anyway, david grimaces at the mention of the demogorgon. he hates that thing almost as much as he hates listening to aestri and steve argue about how the demogorgon is a whole ass other thing like it matters. it's a big, awful, alien hunting dog monster with portals and it sucks. ]
Doubt it's that smart.
[ it's smarter than your average animal for sure, but picking out a specific weak spot like that seems a little beyond it. or maybe david just hopes that much. ]
You kill it?
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