@TheSpiderfetus ⠀⠀
“Better off not knowinʼ, kid,” he scoffs, not quite believing there is no involvement. And then, the weapon in his hand slackens just a fraction. “Spider-man? ... The hell you been snorting kiddo? And it ainʼt fucking gluesticks.”
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@TheSpiderfetus ⠀⠀
“... The hell, kid — !” He blurts, eyes widening as gravity is defied. This kid is climbing the walls right before his eyes. “This some kind of trick? Did you get some gear from Jim?”
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“Some asshole with a severe case of aggression,” he murmurs, shifting slightly as his boyfriend attends to the injury with a professional approach.
It is definitely the upside to having a partner in the medical field — no questions from staff —
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“Least you didnʼt start with the formals of ‘Mr Hayes,ʼ” he muses, appreciating the nickname much more.
... It even trumps ‘Switch.ʼ His name on the streets.
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He scoffs, hearing the injury brought to the surface. Beneath the famous combat trousers that probably have seen better days ... and definitely questionable decisions is a poorly botched attempt at make and mend.
Yep. Thatʼs his motto: ‘make and mend.ʼ —
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He did manage to apply ice before dousing whiskey onto the open wound. It was the good whiskey too — so the whole ordeal was a hindrance and overly reluctant.
The bandage seems to be keeping it moving. Healing ... sort of. —
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He shakes his head, mouth curling upwards. “Canʼt deny that. Run — donʼt get caught.”
A pause, fingers drumming over the material beside the window, just beside the switch that opens it.
“Alright. Fancy another doughnut?” His attention settles, borderline stern. —
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''the cops won't do anything unless they find me or anything. Nothing is *illegal* until you get caught..'' {man this, kid was something}
"but since you seemed like you know your things, why don't you just tell me or show me..'
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He leans across the counter, forearms bracing it with ease. The tip of a boot presses into the linoleium flooring, ankles tucked together.
“Anything I want ...” His gaze flicks over the overhead menus. “Whatʼs the catch, kid?”
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@ElvenxKing ⠀⠀
His brow lifts, expression threaded with challenge. “Burgers for gettinʼ you discharged early,” he murmurs, contemplating the negotiation. “Betcha.”
A smirk, tattered cup long forgotten as he moves towards the cot. “We fooling the medics or just makinʼ a run for it?”
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His eyes track the IV, bandaged flesh. A spec of crimson seeps through. He notices.
“... Can I get you anythinʼ?” A beat, small of his back bracing the window ledge as he leans. “Ainʼt the kinda guy to bring grapes neither.”
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@__Ministorm ⠀⠀
“... Doesnʼt help when some kid torches your motor!” He counters, massaging his temple.
“Got plenty of things you can torch, kid. And my car ainʼt one of ‘em...” A beat, subject waved off. “Forget it. Look, just ... keep those flaming hands to yourself.”
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He fixes the collar on the statement leather jacket. The one with far too many studs. A weapon in itself.
The chains on his combat trousers jangling as he descends the stone steps towards his motor.
“... The hell — ?!” He exclaims, eyes widening, hands pulling from —
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