Who: @angstfactory ft; Fitzroy
@joelhawkins @ingridhawkins @thexcarrollxtimes ft; Oscar
Where: Carnival Funhouse during the Spring Carnival during the hurricane Nikita
What: The two new couples have tension during the storm inside the funhouse while Oscar tries the keep things calm. Fitz is hurt and the injury manages to distract them well enough.
Already deep into the center of the funhouse with Fitz as the winds had suddenly started to shake the structure, Aggie had frozen to her spot as the pair watched through the glass walls of the mirror maze as the everything devolved so quickly. Other people scrambling for shelter, as the rain and wind started in earnest. What she hadn't expected was Ingrid and Joel to be among them. Hand tight in Fitz's already squeezed it even harder.
How in the world had the winds and rain picked up so much in the few minutes they entered the funhouse, that they were now stuck inside? âWe couldnât be in a worse place right now,â Fitz said in some genuine concern as he stared around at the mirrored and distorted reflections, the creepy laugh track slowly being drowned out by the growing sound of the storm outside. âThis building could come down on us at any second.â It was a temporary setup, not designed to withstand hurricane force. And the flashing, poor lighting they still had for the moment was already an annoyance. âCareful,â the direction came out sudden and quick, as Fitzroy instinctively shielded Agnes, when something from the outside crashed through the end part they were in, glass shattering and wind whipping everywhere. He pushed her down the hallway, away from that dangerous area, and to where a group of others had gatheredâ Ingrid, Joel, some man he didnât recognize. âFun House indeed,â he murmured, standing behind Agnes with his arms around her protectively, the adrenaline and anxiety up. So much so that Fitzroy wasnât aware that he was bleeding at his lower back, cut from one of the shards from the mirrors. The shit lighting made it easily unnoticeable too, for the moment. âPerhaps we need to consider finding better shelter than this?â He addressed the group at large, âI do not trust this place to stay up if these winds get any stronger.â His gaze settled on the man he didnât know, mainly because the guy seemed to be the only one in their group demonstrating any decent know-how in these situations.
As soon as the clous started sprinkling Oscar had been scouting shelter. His first choice hadn't been the funhouse, but it had been the closest when the rain started pouring sooner than expected. He rushed inside and pulled the door shut, turning on the flashlight on his phone to see better. He only recognized Joel out of the faces that started to group together. "For now this will have to work," he advised as he ran his light over their surroundings. "You're right, it's not great, but it'll work," he added, bringing it back to the group. "We should move further inside and away from the mirror maze. Nothing good will come from that kind of storm and all that glass. The barrel hall might be our best bet now that it's not spinning," he offered up. "Any of you used to these? How long will we need to hunker down in here?" he asked as he started motioning for the group to start heading to the safer area.
ingrid had wanted joel to get the full carroll spring festival experience, since heâd never been to one before. what she hadnât mentioned was that the authentic experience apparently included a hurricane. joel groaned the second he saw who else was trapped in the fun house with them. perfect. but at least oscar seemed to be taking control of the situation. joel found ingridâs hand and kept hold of it as he guided them farther inside, looking for somewhere safer to wait it out. âmy first spring festival,â he muttered, glancing at her with a small, crooked grin, âand possibly my last.â he winked. he looked at oscar. âwe may be spending the whole night in here. knowing hurricanes.â
"It's horrible." The sound of the storm and the creaking of the structure around them made her insides do terrible twists, the sound of glass smashing as a garbage can took out the pane of glass they'd been staring through pulling a scream from her even as Fitz sheilded her and then ushered them both further into the building and toward the others. Eyes wide and face pale, her hands clung to Fitz as his arms encircled her from behind, their hands joined protectively over her stomach. "I think the middle is good, away from all the glass. One already broke over there." Though her voice was small, she'd still had to raise it a little to be sure she was heard over the winds howls. "The funhouse area with the wobbly mirrors, it's an bigger space, there's benches, too." Sort of, mostly just painted boxes meant as places to stand and pose in front of the flexble silly mirrors. At least those weren't real, breakable, mirrors like in the glass hall. "I don't think I can sit in the barrel." At least not comfortably with her leg brace.
"The barrel hall?" He questioned doubtfully, because he could just picture everyone trying to sit and keep it from rocking. He couldn't answer anything useful about hurricanes, because Fitzroy had never actually been involved in one before. Even if they were in an area one was heading, they were able to evacuate long before the storms hit land. Though Joel spoke, the Englishman merely offered Ingrid a silent smile of hello before his attention returned to Agnes-- it was definitely not ideal, to be stuck there with his ex-fiance and her new violent husband. "Those are not actual mirrors?" he questioned Agnes in surprise, naively so, as he clearly didn't attend carnivals very often. "I vote for this wobbly mirror area then," Fitz declared, in support of her need for a decent place to sit, having zero idea what else to call the area so described it the way she had. "Though I do think we ought to keep our ears peeled," he added, "if the winds die down, we should try for a better building."
"Mirror hall is fine for now," he somewhat begrudgingly agreed, if only for Aggie's necessity to sit. The barrel was the safest spot, but adaptation to the needs of the group trumped perfection in survival. "If the mirrors can be moved, I'll get them out of the way," he offered in compromise to ease the man's worries. He didn't wait for a third and fourth set of votes from Joel and his date before ushering the group toward the wobbly mirror room. He did as promised and started moving what mirrors he could, leaving half still standing around them. He pulled his phone back out and checked for service. Nothing. He turned on the flashlight and, after a quick scan of the room, turned it on the other bodies, worry spiking when he saw the stain on the back of Fitz's shirt. "Don't take this the wrong way," he started with a small raise of his hands, the light flashing up then down across their faces. "But I'm gonna need you to lift your shirt," he said calmly as he made his way over with a point at his back, though his heart was pounding in anticipation at how bad the injury was. "You said something crashed into where you two were?" he asked Aggie as he started assessing the damage.
once they made it to a safer part of the fun house, joel helped oscar move whatever needed shifting, pushing things aside and making space without much complaint. when fitz mentioned waiting for the winds to die down, joel shot him a look, one brow arching, but kept his mouth shut for all of half a second. ingrid wouldnât want him picking a fight in the middle of a hurricane, even if fitz was saying something objectively stupid. still, he couldnât help himself. âitâs a hurricane,â joel said flatly. âthe winds are not going to die down anytime soon. iâm pretty sure weâre stuck here.â he wished he were literally anywhere else, but that didnât make it less true. joel pulled out his phone and switched on the flashlight, sweeping the beam around the room. it didnât reveal much just enough to confirm that, yes, they were probably in one of the worst possible places to be riding this out. then oscar told fitz to take his shirt off, and joel turned toward him with a frown. âum, iâm not sure now is really theââ. that was when he saw the blood staining fitzâs shirt. âoh, shit.â
Sticking right to Fitz as they made their way into the box of a room at the center the building, she could only hope that the structure was short and squat enough to keep on the ground. Tension was high, almost crackling between Joel and Fitz, her eyes flicking between the two men until Oscar's voice drew her attention. "A garbage can hit one of the windows..." Concern pitching up her voice as she came around next to the much larger man to see what he was seeing. Head swimming at the sight. "Love, you're bleeding!" He was on so many medications, what if one was a blood thinner?! "The glass must have cut him!"
Shuffling along to the room they agreed on, he would have offered to try helping to move the mirrors â this time, he opted to stay with Agnes. There was a strange feeling bothering him and he didnât want to aggravate it. âYouâre trying to say winds never lighten up,â he questioned doubtfully, because werenât there eyes or something in hurricanes? Werenât those calm points? He wasnât sure, though. âWhat?â Fitz looked over at Oscar, who was flashing the light onto his back. When both Joel and Agnes then reacted with the same shock, Fitzroy instinctively reached behind himself to feel for whatever he couldnât see. His fingers felt over something wet on his shirt, a stinging sensation now suddenly noticeable. âDamn,â Fitz was confused to when this happened, checking his fingers, âI did not even feel it.â Untucking his shirt, he peeled it up and turned to the light, twisting around to try and see how bad it was. The blood made it look worse than it was â just about an inch length shallow cut, but his blood thinners would make it difficult to staunch. âCannot be that terrible, right? It does not hurt much,â He tried to remain positive and smiled at Agnes, so she wouldnât fret herself much. âI think Iâll be fine,â he assured. âIâll keep pressure on it.â
The pulling up of his shirt revealed a cut that wasn't long, but looked deep for how it was bleeding, and the sight of it giving a fresh torrent of scarlet as he shifted only brought a little whimper from her as she paled. She'd never done very well with blood, but at least it wasn't her own, then she'd surely have fainted. "I will." There was no way he was going to be able to put enough pressure on it himself, and thus with shaking hands she'd moved to cover the gash with one hand, pressing down on it with a wince that she stifled with a soft kiss to his jaw, before turning large eyes to Oscar. He seemed the most capable of them all. "What do we do? Do you think there's a first aide kit in here somewhere?" She had no idea if there was protocols that might dictate that? Her voice small and a little shaky with her concern. "We can't just let him bleed..."
With the shirt now lifted, Oscar glance around for something to wipe it clear enough to assess the injury. Anything needing more than basic first aid and they cold be in trouble. "Here. Hold this," he told Joel, holding out his phone. He ripped a piece of the bottom of his shirt off and wiped what blood he could away from the wound and found a small cut, bleeding far more than it should for the shallowness. "Are you usually a heavy bleeder?" he asked with a glance up at Fitz as he held the piece of shirt of the cut, guiding Aggie's hand over it to try and stop it. "Don't worry. It isn't deep enough to cause any real damage. He'll be fine," he assured her as he took his phone back from Joel. "But we do need to find a first aid kit. Only problem is that they usually keep those outside with the EMT tent which is too far from here to be useful," he added bluntly with a momentary glance at Joel and Ingrid. "But the food booths are close and they usually have something on board for themselves. You just keep pressure on it while I go and get one**," he finally strategized, refusing to let anyone else take the risk.
joel took the phone from oscar when asked and then promptly watched the man tear his shirt off to use as a bandage. he was married now, sure, but he wasnât blind, and he shot ingrid a quick look that very clearly said that was hot, right? before forcing his attention back where it belonged. once oscar had his phone back, he started talking about heading out to the food booths, and joelâs head snapped up immediately. âabsolutely not,â he said, already shaking his head. âyouâre not going by yourself. what if something happens? I'm coming with you."his tone left very little room for argument. he looked over at ingrid then, his expression softening just a fraction as he lifted his brows. âif thatâs okay, of course?â
With so many of them crowding around, an uptick in his heartbeat occurred, first stirs of some nervousness over what's happened. Not quite being able to see it as well as they could, he hoped this was all everyone worrying more than was necessary. "Ah..," there was a pregnant pause, where he might have looked at Agnes and Ingrid, the only two there that'd have idea of his business. "I take some meds that might aggravate it some," he admitted to Oscar, though in much quieter tones. "Blood thinners." It just didn't seem wise to really conceal this news, especially with the other man acting like they needed to find first aide. "Listen, gents, I cannot let you go out there in this nonsense over this, give a chance to stop it bleeding first," he shook his head, not wanting anyone to get hurt on his account. "Are you okay?" he murmured to Agnes, noticing she appeared a bit pale and queasy-looking in the moving cell phone lights.
all she'd wanted to do was show joel the carnival, all the tiny ways that carroll came to life under the neon signs of the games. to spend a few minutes in the fun house laughing at the mirrors, telling him about all the high school pictures that she had of her and emily. all warped glass and big smiles, waiting on her phone as proof of something small and lovely about this town. and now, she was staring at him as he asked her if he should go to look for a first aid kit. she wavered, looking at fitz and aggie, two people that she didn't especially want to be stuck with if anything else happened. but, she didn't want to argue, she wanted what was best for everyone. she nodded, the gesture reluctant for every reason under the sun, looking from joel to oscar, and back again with a resigned expression. she knew the answer to her question, but she asked anyways, should i go too?"
For fuck sake. Everyone always wanted to play hero. "No." Oscar told Joel flat out and plainly. "No," he reiterated when Joel's assumed date chimed in to tag along as well. "No offense, but I have training for this. You'd just get in my way," he only partially lied. An extra set of hands might be useful carrying back the supplies, but Oscar may not had seen enough action to know: the untrained was just an extra burden he couldn't afford to carry. At least not at the moment. "You need to stay here and make sure things stay...safe." Or at least as safe as they could be. "You keep pressure on that and it will stop bleeding by the time I get back," he told Aggie. Hopefully. Blood thinners weren't the worst thing he'd had to deal with in an emergency like this, but it certainly wasn't great all things considered. He turned off his phone's flashlight and slid in back into his pocket, heading to the other side of the room to make his way through the funhouse and outside. "I will be back alright," he assured them before disappearing out of the room.
Eyes large and hand pressing the shirt scrap up against Fitz's wound, lashes fluttering a bit at the sight of it soaking through the fabric, but managed to tear her eyes away to look up at the much more grounding sight of his face, instead. Let them argue about who goes out in that tempest, she knew Fitz wouldn't and she knew she wouldn't. "It's kinda deep, Fitzy." Her voice was soft, a little breathy, willing him to let them take care of him. Just as he asked if she was okay she felt blood touch her fingers and her grip on his arm tightened just enough to keep her steady on her feet. For him. Last thing any of them needed, especially poor bleeding Fitz, was her fainting. "I'm okay. Just... not used to so much blood." Though shaky, she managed a smile, one that faded into surprise as Ingrid tried to go with them, "Ing, you'd blow away in a second." Though she was a little impressed that she'd even offer, "I think the rest of us should stay here. Just in case, you know." Though she hadn't wanted to say it outright, she was sure her tone said it for her. Please don't leave us here alone.
Surely the wound was making him faint because he simply couldnât trust that he was hearing such insane ideas like Ingrid actually going out there too! He almost opened his mouth in protest of it, before he remembered it wouldnât be his place to demand otherwise, not anymore. Maybe it never truly had been. He wouldnât have to, anyway, for Oscar shut it all down. âYou really do not have to ââ the Englishmanâs voice cut off as the trained expert rushed off anyway. âI hope he gets back all in one piece,â Fitz said a bit miserably, hating that this was happening all because he couldnât avoid a stupid shattered mirror. What if the guy got lost in the storm? Hurt by something that was flung at him? Too many variables and ways for him to wind up hurt, too. âIt looks worse than it is, Iâm sure,â he refocused on Agnes, tucking some hair behind her ear as he grew more concerned with her color. âAre you sure youâre right? Letâs take a seat before your legs give out,â he led her to one of the benches, the reasons they had even come to this area in the first place. Fitz waited for her to take a seat before he laid across the bench on his side, partially in her lap, so she could have access to keep pressure on the cut still. And he could keep an eye on her face easier. âBetter?â He glanced towards the others. âAnyone have some water for her?â
joel had been about to tell ingrid there was no way she was going out there, but oscar beat him to it and then promptly left the four of them alone. perfect. just perfect. he moved back to ingrid immediately, taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before brushing one to her cheek too. âare you okay?â he asked softly, the check-in meant only for her. then fitz spoke, and whatever warmth had been in joelâs face vanished. he looked over, his stare openly unfriendly. âno,â he said flatly. âwe were supposed to be in here for five minutes, not trapped for the rest of the night.â he turned his back on the two of them draped all over each other on the bench, giving his attention back to ingrid where it belonged. lowering his voice, he leaned in slightly. âif we move fast, we might be able to get out of here.â then the whole room let out an ugly groan as the wind slammed against the structure again. joel paused, glanced upward, and sighed. âor,â he muttered, brows lifting, âwe can stay and wait to be crushed by a carnival fun house. whichever comes first.â
He twisted his head around, to stare over at Joel with a cool look that masked just how deeply he disliked this man. âForgive me, Hawkins â it must be completely unreasonable for me to assume you or your wife might have been thirsty and carried a water bottle during your excursions through the carnival today, youâre absolutely right. How deliberately obtuse of me.â The mock was there, despite the tone being of general politeness, because he figured that would needle Joel the most. The guy was abusive and aggressive, far as he was concerned, and Fitz didnât feel he deserved Ingrid anymore than he himself had, perhaps less, because if he could behave this way towards one person he was capable of doing it to her and others, too. Fake and dangerous, and he could do nothing about it. âYou are aware we can hear you? I do believe I just suggested the group try to make it somewhere safer not moments ago and now youâre suggesting you two run off by yourselves and hope you make it okay? Thatâs very good of you, Joel â I love the further insight to your character, because if the shoes were on the other foot, I would not leave either of you to fend for yourselves, regardless of what I think of you. That bar, Iâm sure youâre aware, is in hell at this point.â Fitzroy couldnât resist a look at Ingrid, someone he considered his friend, for years now, and the fact she seemed completely okay with how things were playing out between them. He hated this. Even sitting with Agnes, Fitzroy suddenly felt the alone, inadequate, and wholly undeserving. This mess, after all, was on his shoulders. In that moment, the worst kinds of thoughts swirled around inside, which only resulted in guilt as his stare returned to Agnes. âI hope you do not place yourself in further danger simply to avoid me, Ingrid â Iâll lay here quietly if I must.â Whatever would keep her safest, even if he had to be voted off the island, so to speak.
Letting herself be lead over to one of the box benches, Aggie lowered down and did her best to keep pressure on Fitz's cut as he moved to lay down in her lap, fingers instantly finding their way into his hair to sooth them both. Though she wanted to check if the bleeding had stopped, she was already woozy enough at just the sticky feeling of it on her fingers, and couldn't bring herself to do much more than press down the piece of shirt onto it to keep the flow stemmed. "I'm okay." Reassuring her boyfriend, she pressed a kiss to her fingers and used them to transfer it to his cheek. A sigh coming from deep in her chest, Aggie swallowed back the urge to roll her eyes, instead shaking her head as her gaze flicked up to Joel. "That's enough. We're all adults here, can't we act like it?" Her tone was scolding as much to Fitz as it was to anyone else, even as her fingers continued their gentle brushing through his strands. "Can't we all just get along for now? We're all stuck here lest we get blown to Oz in this storm, and it would do us all good to at least be cordial, wouldn't it?" She couldn't imagine Joel wanting to risk Ingrid in that tempest, and she sure as heck knew that she and Fitz wouldn't risk each other like that. Not with him bleeding and her pregnant with her leg still weak. "Please? Sitting in here throwing jabs at each other doesn't help anything."
she had phrased her question wrong. she wanted to go, to leave before anything got too tense, but she'd asked wrong. and now, the building continuing to shudder against whatever was awaiting them outside. she tried to tune out the sound of the wind, the creaking wood, the way that fitz's words tried to find soft skin to pierce, aggie forever trying to pretend like none of it was her fault. it wasn't her fault, ingrid took a deep breath to reminded herself. she stood close to joel, as if she could offer warmth and shield, she squeezed his hand before turning to look at fitz, her expression wounded. "i understand this is stressful. but, fitzâ what are you even saying?" everything sounded unreal, like she'd stepped into an alternate universe where he was suddenly against her, that they couldn't possibly get along. he'd asked everything of her, and now pretended like he'd never asked at all. "we have to wait until oscar gets back so we can move you both." he was the one who was sick, she knew, and aggie was still healing from her own injury. "and then, we need to find better shelter." she stared incredulously, as though he hadn't been listening, just waiting for a reason to try and insult her husband again. she hadn't said anything about how quickly he'd gone back to aggie, had she. "joel is trying to help you." joel was her world, the person she gravitated towards in the room, the person that she looked up at to make sure he was okay. the way that fitz insisted on acting, it was enough to wound, her expression miserably sad, captured by the shifting of the building. "what is wrong with you?"
joel heard fitz speak to him and closed his eyes for a second, counting to ten before he said something heâd actually regret. then agnes spoke up too, defending fitzâs behavior, and that was enough to make him open his eyes and really look at the two of them. were they serious? it pleased him, a little, in a dark and petty corner of himself, that fitz was apparently so fixated on him heâd noticed joel had taken ingridâs last name when they got married. but what bothered him more was agnes acting as if theyâd both been taking shots at each other when, as far as joel was concerned, heâd barely said a thing that qualified. his jaw tightened. before he could respond, ingrid squeezed his hand. his gaze shifted immediately from the two of them to his wife and the tension in his face eased at once. looking at her, he let out a slow breath and listened while she spoke. by the time she finished, something in him had fully unclenched. joel wasnât used to having many people in his corner, but ingrid always was. the way he looked at her after said everything, gratitude softening him in a way words never really could. he cleared his throat, then finally looked back at fitz. âi was only whispering because youâre already⊠bleeding everywhere,â he said evenly. âand i didnât want to burden you with problem-solving when you should probably be focusing on that.â he gave a small shrug and glanced toward the direction oscar had gone before looking back at fitz and agnes. âbut since you clearly want to be included,â he added, a faint edge slipping in, âif oscar isnât back in ten minutes, we need to start considering something other than just sitting here.â his expression shifted then, some of the bite dropping away as his eyes went back to the blood. when he spoke again, he sounded more concerned than irritated. âiâd also feel better if we could get you to stop bleeding.â for a moment, he looked genuinely uneasy, running a hand back through his hair before glancing
at ingrid. âing, do you have anything in your bag we could use as a makeshift bandage?â
The microaggressions radiating off Joel wherever he was concerned weren't something Fitzroy made up out of thin air. It was all he could sense, could feel, and every word out of the guy was calculated and crafted to be yet another shove. Overtly or not. But it was Ingrid's display that settled in wrong and did the most damage. It landed in a way that caused Fitz to suddenly doubt if he truly knew her, if she was as genuine a person she would want him to believe. Because that response out of her felt so disingenuous and egregious, he had to pause and seriously consider if she wasn't just as manipulative a person as the man she befriended and married and stared at like he was the center of her universe. None of this felt real. And if it was, if Ingrid actually was serious in having no idea how he could be upset and defensive where Joel was concerned after everything the guy had already done to him (none of which had even been apologized for, a fact she seemed perfectly okay with anyway or that it had happened at all), then what could he say for himself? Cornered and labeled as the Problem by every front in this room, including Agnes, it didn't matter what came out of his mouth at this point. Sure, sure -- Joel was only trying to help him, right off a bloody cliff. "I apologize," the words came out curt, gaze jumping from Ingrid then to Joel, "for jumping to conclusions." Fitzroy felt as if he couldn't trust either of them. Either Ingrid had always secretly hated his guts, or she was as blind to Joel's faults as Agnes was to his own-- perhaps it was even both. As for the man himself, he was probably hoping he'd just do them all the favor and bleed out.
"I have it," he dismissed the need for help, trying to keep himself as calm as possible as he sat up. In silence, he yanked several times until the sleeves of his thin shirt tore and separated, after which he linked them together and tied the fabric around his waist, tightly, over where the wound slowly seeped. Problem solving for himself as much as possible, to keep interactions between the other two as few as possible now. For all their benefit, at this point. There was something wrong when the stress of everything was so much he couldn't even feel the injury. Fitz stayed sitting up now, giving his watch a squint, wondering if Oscar was okay, and how long he had been gone for.
As soon as the wind hit him it was like walking through sheets of glass, the rain was pelting him so hard. He raised a hand, futilely, to try and shield his face so he could see somewhat where he was going. The food booths were just at the end of the corridor, but the trek was made nearly impossible by the hurricane. Not to mention the piece of one of the trailer's roofs that had flown off and smacked him in his side, leaving behind a small cut to his arm. Oscar had to search through three different food trucks before he found a first aid kit in one of the cabinets. It was half empty, but still held gauze, bandaids, half a roll of medical tape, and a few unopened packets of Neosporin and alcohol. Perfect Now just to survive the walk back. It took him only a minute longer than expected, the five minute walk turning into just under ten, but he returned - soaked to the bone, mostly unscathed, and into bickering between the rest of the group. Fan-fucking-tastic. "Trust me. You aren't getting anywhere out there," he said simply to Joel's plan of leaving if he didn't return in ten. "Good to see you kids didn't kill yourselves while I was gone," he gently scolded of their useless arguing. "I don't care what you all have going on between the four of you," he went on, looking mostly Joel's way, glancing at Ingrid - he himself angry at his treatment of Birch. "but I'm pretty sure this trumps it. Save for after we make it out," he added definitively. "How's the bleeding going? Get it to stop yet?" he asked Aggie and Fitz, heading over to them and getting set to do his best at closing the cut beneath his shirt.
Sighing softly to herself at the bickering between the three others, Agnes didn't want to interject again, but she hated feeling like Fitz was getting ganged up on when he was the one bleeding. "Please, you guys." Voice soft, almost pleading, she watched at Fitz sat up, hand with it'd bloodied piece of shirt sliding off the wound as his movement put it out of reach. "Fitz...?" But he was already busying himself with tearing his shirt to make his own bandage, and she was left there holding the now scarlet fabric, which she set down on the bench beside her lest it make her head swim a little more. Instead, she grounded herself with a hand on his knee. "I won't be able to do make it anywhere out there." She finally said, eyes on her own braced knee, bloodstained hand raising to rub over it as it ached. Thankfully, Oscar made his appearance right around then, and made it very clear they weren't going to be able to go anywhere and hopefully put an end to at least that argument. "It was still bleeding a little bit, but I think it slowed down." was her still concerned answer to Oscar as he came over. "I couldn't bring myself to look at it again, though. I don't do well with blood." And now she couldn't reach it, but what she could do was reach over and giving a little touch to one of Oscar's arms. "Thank you so much, for helping us." And she meant that, her other hand still holding a white knuckled, protective, grip to her boyfriend's knee.
joel shook his head at fitzâs apology, hearing it for what it wasâan attempt to smooth things over and to save face. âyou donât have to apologize,â he stated. âjust stop assuming iâm always out to get you. honestly, i donât think about you that much.â relief hit him the second oscar came back through the door, because whatever this conversation had been threatening to become was over now. but the relief didnât last long. one look from oscar and joel felt his shoulders tense again. what the hell did i do to him? he let out a quiet sigh and decided, then and there, that he was done talking unless someone spoke to him directly. it was a familiar instinct. one learned young. without saying anything, he moved away from the others and gently tugged ingrid with him toward a bench on the other side of the room. somewhere quieter. somewhere that felt less likely to turn into another fight. he sat, leaned back against the wall, and closed his eyes for a moment, exhaustion finally catching up to him. his fingers found ingridâs arm, tracing lightly against her skin. s-o-r-r-y. he opened his eyes and looked at her then, really looked at her, his expression softer than anything else heâd shown tonight. his fingers moved again. i-l-o-v-e-y-o-u.
she personally accepted fitz's apology as she did everything else he'd done throughout the course of their friendship, blindly hoping that he meant the best for it. she still considered them friends, though she wasn't sure why he'd taken the news of her marriage quite so hard. she turned back towards joel, the conversation capped there. whatever was wrong, she certainly wasn't going to get to the bottom of it in the middle of a hurricane. she allowed herself to be led towards the bench so oscar could take over medical attention. the feeling of joel's fingers against her skin was a welcome warmth, her instinct to follow the patterns that he created. in the past it had been silly drawings, smiley faces and l-o-s-e-r which made up a secret language for friends who couldn't talk aloud at the dinner tables and in the middle of movie premeires. it had evolved to so much more, the worry that had creased her forehead lessening with each letter. she began her own, opening his palm so she could spell -i-l-y-m-o-r-e. "do you think the phone service will come back on?" she wondered, trying to stay more on track with the conversations oscar seemed to be interested in having. she could do both, they had to do both, until they got out of this fun house. "i don't even have a radio app."
Oscar returned, and Fitzroy kept his mouth shut. There was nothing further to say about the rest of it, nothing that would help the situation. His focus turned to Agnes, allowing her to become the only priority. His hand covered the one at his knee and he sat forward, dutifully, so the wound at his back could be checked on and tended, only wincing to himself every now and then. Oscar was completely soaked â it was unfortunate he didnât have a jacket this time, to offer, but they werenât the same size anyway. âYouâre bleeding,â Fitzroy noticed, pointing at Oscarâs arm.
The two couples separated by space, Aggie let out a little breath, doing her best to ignore for now just how terrible it felt to know that she'd probably made herself look every worse in the eyes of Ingrid, and surely Emily as well. It seemed repairing anything there was a far gone thing, though she hated thinking that it could be the same with her and Fitz. They'd been friends their whole lives. Deciding she'd do whatever it took to make sure Ingrid and Fitz could at least heal their friendship. Drawn from her thoughts by Fitz's hand on her knee, she offered him a smile and turned her gaze back to Ingrid. "I just hope the tower didn't get blown over. I can't imagine being without cell service for days." The word bleeding caught her attention, especially because Fitz said it, head snapping around to look at Oscar who was, in fact, bleeding. "Oh no, are you alright?" What a mess this all was.
Silently, he dismissed her thanks for helping. It was just what you did. No man left behind. No matter the circumstances. Oscar would have done the same even if the players and locale had changed. He hadn't needed thanks or acknowledgment. It was just who he was and what he did. But he nodded all the same to show appreciation. "You did good keeping pressure on it," he complimented Aggie as he gently, but quickly, removed the shirt sleeve that had been wrapped around Fitz's waist. He took a clean piece of gauze from the kit and wiped it as dry and clean as he could to get a good look at it. It wasn't all that bad. He was most definitely going to survive. And it would be nothing for Oscar to close it up and get it covered until the man could get to a real hospital for a few real stitches. "You're gonna want to get this checked out once the storm clears. You'll probably need a stitch or two," he explained as he worked, one had hold of the skin, keeping it together as the other dug through the kit for some butterfly bandages. "I doubt any time soon," he answered Ingrid of the cell service. It was destroyed outside. He figured it would be out for a few days even after the storm had stopped. At least. The clean-up crews were going to have their hands full. He glanced at his arm as he grabbed the last bandage and secured Fitz's cut, covering it with gauze and laying his shirt back over it. "It's just a scratch," he attempted to assure them as he started cleaning it off. It was deeper than he expected and would also need stitches, but there was no use in letting himself become frantic - where would he go for help? "Can I borrow a set of hands?" he asked, squeezing the cut shut.
Closest to the second of their bleeding gentlemen, Aggie blinked a few times as she steadied herself against yet more blood. Talk about exposure therapy. Stomach turning, she somehow managed to hold it down, nodding her head as she held out already red stained hands toward his cut. "I'm sorry." The words came even before she pinched the cut on his arm closed, apologizing for whatever pain it caused, even as she held her eyes closed, head turned toward Fitz. She'd done it for him because she hadn't had to look so hopefully not having to look now would help just as much. Even if she could feel herself paling a little once more, grip on Fitz's knee white knuckled.
âAgnes,â her name came out a sigh, partially wary and partially fond. The woman was so obviously queasy and uncomfortable, yet determined to help, regardless. âI am not out of commission over here, darling,â he advised her, moving away the bloody items from near her and gently moving her aside with a hand to her shoulder, so she didnât have to help Oscar. âCannot have you passing out,â a kiss was given to the side of her head as he moved in to help administer the same help Oscar had just given himself. Carefully, he applied the last two butterfly bandages found, but noticed they were out of the large ones. âIs there anything else you can wrap this over with? Maybe we can put the gauze in and tie another piece of cloth to your arm until you can get it checked.â
Despite the few injuries, the rest of the night went relatively quietly as they all hunkered down as the storm progressed and grew outside their rickety shelter, doing their their best to ignore the way it creaked and groaned around them. At least until around midnight the world suddenly shook with what she thought was thunder and then an earthquake, and thought the funhouse remained unharmed, Agnes was nervous wreck afterward. She'd clung white knuckled to Fitz's arm, face as pale as her hair, and eyes wide as dinner plates all night, unable to relax. It'd been hours since then, and though she was inordinately exhausted, there would be no dozing for her. Not as she fought to maintain her composure for the others through her utter panic. I wanna go home. Modified one handed signs shook with her hands, the constant vibrating rumble of the storm throug her bones was endless horrifying and she could feel it intensifying even more than she could hear it with her implants. "Fitz...I wanna go home." The plea was a whimper of a whisper to the rock that was her boyfriend, turning those panicked eyes on him as her free hand rested on her stomach. She could feel it in the pressure in the air, in the press on her chest, in the insuppressible rise in her hysteria.
