forum Find Me (Character Chat #4)

Started March 06, 2019 by Deleted user

tune

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She yanked it out as fast as she could to keep him from making the wound even worse with his erratic thrashing.

Tessa held him down as best as she could. The male was right there, pressing the wound closed as he stitched it shut. When he was done, he pressed gauze over it to control the bleeding while he worked on the others.

After a few more seconds, Runner calmed down, whimpering slightly. Lia stepped back, unsure how to help.

Tessa and the male worked as if a team, her holding wounds closed and cleaning up the blood while he stitched them closed. They were soon done, and Tess collapsed on the floor, holding Runner's hand while the male cleaned up their mess, walking through the house as if he's been there before.

The girl at that point decided that then was the time to leave, and did so as runner squeezed Tess's hand lightly.

Tessa looked up at Lia. "Thank you," she said, then glanced at Runner. "He'll likely want to thank you later. Where do you live?"

"Just a few minutes down the street." She wrote down an address.

Tessa nodded and took the paper. "Thank you," she said again.

Lia smiled slightly and walked out the door, wiping the blood from her hands onto her dress as she walked.

((Yeah

Tessa was passed out on the floor, head resting on the bloodstained couch next to Runner. The male was shirtless and eating cereal in the kitchen, reading a newspaper.

Runner let out a groan, attempting to raise his head.

Tessa snapped her head up, already fussing. "Are you okay? Are you bleeding? How are your stitches?"

"Yes, no, and I don't know."

Tessa sighed and rested her head against his arm. "You're such an idiot," she mumbled.

"Just a friend, huh?" The male snickered from the kitchen, still eating his cereal. Tessa didn't deign to acknowledge him.

"How am I am idiot?" he asked, although he was grinning.

"You went and got yourself stabbed. Who the hell does that?" She was still mumbling, her nerves shot.

"I got jumped, Tess."

"I know…" she whispered. "It's my fault."

He scoffed, propping himself up on his elbow. "And how the hell is this your fault?"

"I have a reputation in the worst district of the city–the Thieves Den, as it's called. I did some gambling a little while ago, and let's just say I gambled against a bunch of sore losers. I wouldn't put it past them to try and get back at me."

He shook his head. "No, they tried to mug me, and I fought back. Nothing was mentioned about any gambling."

"To get back what they lost? All they would need to do is steal it–no mention of gambling needed. Either that, or they're hired thugs. It's a no-questions-asked sort of thing."

"Remember when you told me to tell you when you're being an idiot?"