▬ verity * la-sangradura.
Was this some last attempt to get back at her for what she had threatened before? Veirty could hardly make out what he was trying to say through the pain interrupting every strain of explanation, and she ignored him. Briefly abandoning him on the tile, she cleared the dining room table— not that there was much, as she rarely had anyone over— and helped him up again.
Verity’s focus was cut by the television’s sudden repetition that failed to provide a lull. Fire clashed over what was once a soft rerun of late night news, and in turn, she heard the chime of a phone reserved for specific communication. Three more chimes, and she knew exactly what was being called. It wasn’t just Brooks who needed to get out, but her. A meeting was underway and her presence was demanded, but she couldn’t leave him here.
“Get up here, quickly,” She insisted, the sidebar groaning in protest as she ripped its drawers open to medical supplies stuffed away. Every serpent’s fresh patch of grass held what was needed for recovery in an event like this, and she knew she was breaking rules sacrificing supply to someone else. “Take off your shirt, hold this towel to it.”
She broke away from him again, lights flickering on over the dining room and blinds shut tightly. The front door opened again to retrace his steps as quickly as she could for any trail he left behind, and she kicked the plant on the front door of her apartment down the stairs and covered any remnants of blood under the dirt. Management would get her complaint tomorrow, and someone else would clean the mess. Looking over the ledge, Verity peered out to the street but it remained dark.
“Brooks, stay awake, okay?” She said, walking back in to the apartment and closing the door. “I need you to stay awake. Do whatever you need to to make sure you don’t fall asleep, got it? Where else are you hurt?”
The chime of her phone felt like death blows to his eardrums, far away yet loud enough to echo in his head and rid him of any sane thought that dared to enter during his frenzy. He found himself forgetting moments that happened just seconds prior, unable to determine how he got from the tile to the table and having to accept that this was probably where he was most likely to bleed out now. Not outside, not n some back alley, not on a couch at the Four Jacks – here, in Verity’s home.
His reactions were slow, but they were there. His body was hoisted up a bit, an attempt at straightening his back only resulting in a hiss and the immediate threat of a blackout stationing itself at the forefront of his mind. It’s when he opens his eyes again that flashes of fire meet his peripherals and it causes his head to turn in the slightest. Occasionally blurred vision tries to focus on the words, falling short every time because the television was too far away and Brooks simply didn’t have the energy to deal with it at the moment. He knew it was about the explosion, possibly about him and the Foxes directly, but there wasn’t much he could do about that now.
Verity’s absence went unnoticed because he put all his energy into the news just seconds before her return, head turning again slowly as she closed the door. He half expected it to be someone other than her, someone who’d cuff him and drag him down to the station or even to the hospital for questioning. It was almost disappointing that it wasn’t at that point. “No promises.” The words fell quietly, almost inaudibly as he slowly tried to regain the ability to speak normally again. It was tough, damn near impossible to do so in his state, but his lack of communication was already bad enough as it was.
The verbal response didn’t follow. Instead, a shaky hand that had been pressed firmly against his chest was lifted a bit to indicate the worst of the damage – something the explosion wasn’t responsible for. The wound’s exposure and lift of pressure from it made him groan, sharp inhale following shortly after as he twisted a bit in his seat to try and find a more comfortable spot. “Fuck me.” Brooks murmured to himself, stringing along a few more obscenities as his head fell to the side to allow his ear a place against his shoulder. The ringing was arguably worsening, or maybe just more noticeable now. In the second it took to do so, Brooks remembered that he needed to be trying to stay awake. Eyelids fluttered momentarily, eventually opening a bit more as he glanced Verity’s way again. “I think there’s… I think… it was a knife. I don’t know.” The comment was meant to reference the wound on his chest, to offer an explanation for it, but Brooks wasn’t even sure if he was making any sense at that point.
