wasteyard | network: @XXXtra_TerrestriEL

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network: @XXXtra_TerrestriEL

WHO: eliot waugh, king of shit, and whoever responds.
WHAT: network texting: he's running low on drugs so now he's hunting for booze.
WHERE: all over because he's also looking while texting.
WHEN: sent out before the event, but take your time to reply. it's not like it's going anywhere in your message history unless you delete it (and then find out you can't delete it). he's not going to not want booze two months from now.
NOTES: probably contains cursing, sexual references, and mentions of drugs and alcohol. eliot is not a role model. don't look inside if you're looking for one.

anyone found any liquor yet willing to exchange favors

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( you were lucky you were hurting, eliot, because that alone stops him from making a noise at being called handsome. besides, robbie may not know him well but he knows that's not gonna stop eliot either.

it takes awhile but, miracle of miracles, robbie does finally find where eliot's trying not to die. he doesn't look concerned but maybe he is. he's just very well schooled at not expressing anything but anger and disdain these days. )

Glad to see you didn't die in the time it took me to find you in this stupid place. ( if he'd gotten lost, it might have happened. )

Still feeling like shit?

[ he just calls em ilke he sees em, robbie. don't be mad about being handsome. that's something most people envy.

eliot's laying back on one of benches when robbie arrives, legs hanging off the end because this is apparently what it's like being the tallest person here. robbie can probably relate. his cane is balanced across his hips, and his earlier wandering makes the rest feel that much more gratifying. his eyes are closed, head titled back. there haven't been shadows around right now, but he's not completely unaware of his surroundings.

that's why he opens his eyes and tilts his head up when he hears someone approaching. and it's robbie. thank christ. he lets his head fall back against the bench and sighs. ]

If only this world were so merciful.

Yeah. Haven't been able to find any real painkillers since getting here, so. And even that helps with fighting infection.

You look like shit.

( well, hopefully eliot wasn't expecting a great beside manner. but he was here and no one else was so maybe that made up for it. )

Pull your shirt up. Let me see.

( it's really too bad that the healing abilities the hell demon gave him was only for him and couldn't be transferred to anyone else. would have been helpful right now about now. but, if he'd been axed in the gut, he would have been fine.

he can't really do anything like that for eliot. )

I need to check to make sure it's not infected so you don't end up dying. ( pain could be managed. infection would be harder. )

Thanks. You look great too.

[ he shifts, groaning as he does. at first he tries to sit up, but that ends up a wash when his abdomen protests by flare of hot, searing pain. eliot hisses, falling back and letting his cane slide to the side to rest against his hip as he decides to just undo his vest and shirt for robbie to take a gander. ]

Yeah, seems like the harder I try to find anything, the more I end up finding absolutely fuck all that can help.

[ his fingers are deft, undoing each button with some manner of elegance despite the occasional tremor of his fingers. the open shirt reveals worn bandaging stained with splats of blood. ]

( well, it doesn't look good. robbie's actually impressed that eliot's been upright and walking around with a wound like this going on. he suppresses a wince and peels back some of the bandage to try and get a better look at the actual wound. )

Dressing needs to be changed, first of all.

( just in case that wasn't clear. )

Who treated you initially? Did someone stitch the wound? ( because maybe there is...something he can do but he needs to check to make sure he doesn't undo work that's already been completed. )

[ thanks, he does his best at trying not to fall over and die. eliot suppresses his own grimace from the bandage movement. ]

Yeah. I'll get on that right after I find bandages that don't smell like mold and rot. [ because that's all he's found. ] even all the cloth i've found has been like that. i tried cleaning them. boiling out the mold. whatever i could. no dice. and no bleach.

[ he angles his head up, looking toward his stomach and nodding. ] The school surgeon. Back on Earth. She stitched it up, but. It's hard to not pop them when half the rooms around here are constantly trying to murder you. I. [ well, now that he looks again-- ] I had more earlier. I guess I popped. Um. Most of them.

[ he looks for a bit then points. ] That's one of the remaining ones. [ it's worn. big surprise. ]

( if he opens this wound, he's going to die. that's all there is to it. and while the demon's been noticeably absent, robbie thinks he might be able to get enough fire going to cauterize the wound shut. but, that would be very revealing unless he knocked eliot out.

which would also be kind of obvious. )

Okay. Dios, you really need a doctor. And I'm not one.

( obviously. ) I can try and restitch you with a sterile needle if I can find one. At least keep your insides from becoming your outsides.

[ eliot could have cauterized it too, not that robbie would have known, but he does prefer not being scarred horribly on his otherwise decently attractive torso. ]

I've. Um. I found a small sewing kit. I don't know if. I don't know if the thread is strong enough though. [ see? he's not entirely useless at finding things. ] Does that. Work?

I can try.

( that's about all he could offer at this point. he sighs and looks up, trying to catch eliot's eyes with his own. )

You want me to try or leave it?

[ he grunts, breath strained as he tries to stifle the involuntary noises and breaths the pain makes him take. he eyes flick to meet robbie's after the question. ]

If. It's not too much. [ he grunts. ] Trouble.

( he nods. if that's what eliot wants, then that's what he'll do. )

You want me to knock you out so you don't feel it?

( that's a serious offer. there's no anesthesia here so it's gonna hurt. )

[ man, it does sound nice to just be blacked out and not to suffer. but, really, being completely knocked out in a place like this seems like a huge mistake waiting to happen. alas. ]

As good and lovely as that would be, I don't know that it's the greatest idea to leave you with my. [ he gestures with his hand. ] Graciously tall and unconscious body to deal with if our ghostly friends decide that stitching me up is the best time for hugs and kisses.

[ not that robbie isn't handsomely built (because damn is he a gorgeous specimen), but then there's the bleeding and the carrying and the needle and stitching, and frankly, he wouldn't blame robbie to just ditch if shit really did happen, and eliot, masochist that he is, thinks it's better to know when he's actually going to die instead of going however loudly the ghost decide to do it in his sleep. ]

Your choice.

( because this is going to hurt, eliot, and if you scream too loudly, that's going to attract attention too. but, he's not going to press the issue. )

Where's your kit? ( best to just get this over with quick so he can figure out what the hell to do about clean bandages. )

You got something to bite down on, at least?

I'll. Use my belt. [ to bite down on. ] Hold on.

[ he groans and reaches for the ground under the bench where he'd put his bag. resting it against his chest, he rifles inside before holding out a compact sewing kit for robbie, the kind in hotels for mending buttons. there's three folded, bound sets of thread included, a white, a blue-grey, and a black.]

You might need to combine the threads. If it's going to be strong enough. Not sure if they're long enough either though.

( talk about something he'd never expected to do to anyone let alone a man he'd met a few days ago. robbie takes the bag, reaching inside to pull out the kit and giving eliot time to prepare himself. he's stitched himself up a few times, rudimentary triage when he couldn't go to the hospital but he's never done it on someone else. )

You got a color preference?

( of thread. he's trying to lighten the mood. )

[ he should know better, but having always been one to enjoy dark humor, eliot laughs and immediately regrets the sharp pain that shoots through him. ] Fuck.

[ well, that's just damn embarrassing. he groans and starts undoing his belt. y'know, to bite on. ] Personally, I think purple would have been a lovely choice, but I guess not enough people wear that on the daily to suit my suturing needs.

What about red?

( he holds up the thread to give eliot a better look. )

Color of blood so it'll blend in well with the blood stains that are probably on your shirt.

( he's so fashionable. )

[ he chuckles. red would be nice, actually. but-- ] I'm already wearing black which hides most color as it is.

But red would be nice too. I guess if I went with white, it'd still end up red. Maybe white is the better option here?

Maybe letting you choose the color isn't such a good idea.

( red, white, black, whatever. robbie just really needs to sew up eliot so his insides don't become his outsides. )

You ready?

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