[ Drowsy, pained, looking completely out of it because the poor guy’s going into fucking shock right now — but Ian’s gaze still has some level of consciousness to it, and the pupils are dilated evenly, following movement properly right before one shaky hand comes up to press against an eye.
Thank fuck again. No concussion, nothing that indicates he’s not all there, his words coherent even if they are slow and soft, and Mace draws back with another quiet breath out of his nose, allowing himself to feel a small bit of hope. Ease off the building concern in his chest just a tad, because if it gets too heavy it’ll start to get the best of him, and neither of them can afford that.
But there’s an exhaustion there that’s still a big cause for worry. He’s holding it together incredibly well for a guy who nearly got operated on while awake, and then bled out this much, no medicine to alleviate the pain and a paralytic fucking up his system. Mace can’t help wondering what the hell they're gonna do if Ian passes out right now without anything in his stomach to hold him down, give him energy and warmth from the inside.
No, he’s gotta keep Ian awake a little longer and get him something to eat, and Mace reaches out to place a careful hand on the shoulder closest to him, squeezing down bracingly as he kneels down on the floor next to the table. ]
All scars are hot. [ It’s meant as levity but it comes out matter-of-fact, Mace settling down on the floor with his legs stretching out in front of him, leaning against the table leg.
Ian’s right, though. God. Fuck hospitals, fuck doctors, and fuck the scalpels they rode in on. ]
Besides, this one’s gonna be pretty badass. You could probably get a date out of it.
[ The levity comes easier this time, trying to reassure Ian that there will be a later, and Mace tilts his head back until he’s staring straight up. It’s only a few inches away from Ian’s forehead at the edge of the table, and he blinks back the tiredness from his own eyes, thinking not yet, over and over again. Still the corpses to get rid of. Still the front door to seal and bar. Still gotta keep his partner awake, the partner he'd told you're gonna be fine, only for the guy to get his abdomen carved up like a turkey. ]
I'll wingman you. Not too many teachers out there who can say they fuckin’ stabbed a demon doctor to death.
[ And there's an audible note of approval in his voice now, even as he feels a creeping sense of guilt and upset rise up within him, like the fog outside the cabin. Maybe he can get a mulligan too. A pause, and then he adds, ]
no subject
Thank fuck again. No concussion, nothing that indicates he’s not all there, his words coherent even if they are slow and soft, and Mace draws back with another quiet breath out of his nose, allowing himself to feel a small bit of hope. Ease off the building concern in his chest just a tad, because if it gets too heavy it’ll start to get the best of him, and neither of them can afford that.
But there’s an exhaustion there that’s still a big cause for worry. He’s holding it together incredibly well for a guy who nearly got operated on while awake, and then bled out this much, no medicine to alleviate the pain and a paralytic fucking up his system. Mace can’t help wondering what the hell they're gonna do if Ian passes out right now without anything in his stomach to hold him down, give him energy and warmth from the inside.
No, he’s gotta keep Ian awake a little longer and get him something to eat, and Mace reaches out to place a careful hand on the shoulder closest to him, squeezing down bracingly as he kneels down on the floor next to the table. ]
All scars are hot. [ It’s meant as levity but it comes out matter-of-fact, Mace settling down on the floor with his legs stretching out in front of him, leaning against the table leg.
Ian’s right, though. God. Fuck hospitals, fuck doctors, and fuck the scalpels they rode in on. ]
Besides, this one’s gonna be pretty badass. You could probably get a date out of it.
[ The levity comes easier this time, trying to reassure Ian that there will be a later, and Mace tilts his head back until he’s staring straight up. It’s only a few inches away from Ian’s forehead at the edge of the table, and he blinks back the tiredness from his own eyes, thinking not yet, over and over again. Still the corpses to get rid of. Still the front door to seal and bar. Still gotta keep his partner awake, the partner he'd told you're gonna be fine, only for the guy to get his abdomen carved up like a turkey. ]
I'll wingman you. Not too many teachers out there who can say they fuckin’ stabbed a demon doctor to death.
[ And there's an audible note of approval in his voice now, even as he feels a creeping sense of guilt and upset rise up within him, like the fog outside the cabin. Maybe he can get a mulligan too. A pause, and then he adds, ]
Though I'm sorry you had to.