Is that all you&#x27;ve got?

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"I hate hospitals.”

Talbot’s thoughts might have been a bit hazier than was typical, due to all that he’d recently endured… but even he was perceptive enough to notice the roughened sight of Marlowe and 39 as they entered the room. Fresh speckles of bright red were apparent on Marlowe’s attire, adding to the stains that were left drying on her pants and blouse. His blood. Internally, he still felt a bit guilty for that…though it was far from the first time that his fluids embellished her clothes.

Regardless, he was immensely relieved that Marlowe seemed to have made quick work of their adversaries. Not that he’d doubted her, certainly not… but to see her unscathed was always a blessed sight. Her words, however, expressed no satisfaction at her victory, nor relief in reuniting with him. As Marlowe’s stern voice carried through the room, it was difficult not to join the young boy in shrinking in his seat. Their silence, however, was equally matched. Talbot was suddenly small and helpless, feeling very much like a boy himself. If only he could have fought beside her… rather than demanding for 39 to join in his stead. It only reminded him of the recovery that awaited him, if they ever made it out of this hellhole. Surely, she was angered that he’d gone against her wishes. Nodding numbly, he swallowed a lump in his throat. As she gestured unsubtly to Talbot, indicating that 39 should retrieve him, his fellow agent instantly acted. Henry crossed the room in a few quick, but steady strides… dress shoes clacking loudly against the floor as he came to stand before Talbot. He returned his weapon to his holster, and then reached a hand out to aid him to his feet. Exhaling a sigh, Talbot took his hand, using the other man for support as strong arms lifted him from his chair. Soon, he was resting all of his weight against him and limping along with his help, already a tired old ritual.

As they walked towards Marlowe, Talbot noticed that 39’s gaze had flickered to the young boy, still silent in his seat… but there was something unspoken there. A sort of quiet, pensive regret… as if he wished to linger, or to do something about the abandoned child. He seemed to be the only one in the room currently acknowledging his existence.

A potentially fatal mistake.

#killerscholarbusinessman #HOSPITAL FEELS #talbot hates hospitals

Marlowe took notice of 39’s wan look towards the young boy who was stunned into silence. She hadn’t expected the agent to be so suddenly compassionate. It registered to Marlowe as an annoyance far more than something to be cherished.

"Boy," Marlowe said coldly, looking in the child’s general direction. She didn’t fully make eye contact, but stared down at him from her currently intimidating height. "I’d advise you to remain hidden until the authorities arrive to search for survivors."

She punctuated the sentence with the metallic slide and lock as she replaced the rifle’s clip after examining its remaining rounds.

"I’m sure it won’t be much longer." It was honestly a growing concern in the back of Marlowe’s mind. They had to get moving to the roof and flee the scene before they had more complications. A group of mercenaries to mow through was quite different than armed police or military. That was something else entirely. The vast pull that Marlowe’s organization had still couldn't easily wave away every indiscretion.

That was all she was going to say. Not that she cared if the boy lived or died- but she didn’t want her agent distracted with thoughts of heroics or concerns for the safety of someone who didn’t matter. After all, the boy had survived this long on his own, and it would be far safer hiding under a desk than following the three of them. He needn’t give it another thought. The boy was only lucky that Marlowe didn’t see him as any sort of threat, or else 39’s loyalty versus his morals would have been brought into sudden question.

Glad that 39 still obeyed her silent order, and had retrieved Talbot from his seat, she turned to leave back through the door. Before she exited, she did manage to catch Talbot’s gaze. He looked wide-eyed and small, his skin still pallid and his steps unsteady, but the medication seemed to have helped. He didn’t look ready to keel over at a moment’s notice anymore. As their eyes met, Marlowe gave just the barest of smiles, the corner of her mouth twitching.

She was always glad to know her little guard dog never gave up easily.

In the hallway the lights flickered, emitting an electric buzz from broken paneling and loose wires. Marlowe led the way once more, back down towards the elevators and the carnage. Without looking back or saying a word she was expecting to be followed, and would be quite annoyed if there were any further delays.

▼

"I hate hospitals.”

The corner of 39’s mouth twitched into a brief smile when he saw that Marlowe was more amused by his comment than angered. That was good…as he’d never desire to be disrespectful to his superior. As he breathed in, he found that the hallway’s once-sterile environment was now tarnished with the metallic scent of blood. He watched while Marlowe retrieved a new weapon, the only one that wasn’t spattered with deep red, and claimed it as her own. Thankfully, his quick reflexes allowed him to catch his revolver as she shoved it at his chest and strode past him. She couldn’t see it, but it his wan smile remained. Henry’s eyebrow quirked for a moment while Marlowe spoke and then trailed off, figuring that her pause in speech was out of worry for the other man. There was no doubt that he was severely wounded, and 39, just like her, was concerned for Talbot’s safety and well being. It was the levels of worry that he was entirely unaware of as they set back down the hallway to retrieve him. _______________________________________________ In the tiny hospital room, Talbot was growing tired of the young boy’s incessant prying… Admitting temporary defeat, he settled in a nearby chair, hoping to take the pressure off of his injured leg… and the child had taken up the seat next to him, apparently feeling comfortable now that he knew that Talbot wasn’t a threat. The boy blatantly stared while Talbot refused to make eye contact. It was almost as if he were studying him, and it made him remarkably uneasy.

Though his patience was wearing thin, one-word answers seemed to be his saving grace as he scratched at his arm, suddenly itchy. He paused where the gauze was taped over the crook of his elbow. He wondered if it was a side effect of the codeine, and the boy apparently noticed. "Did you have to get a shot, too?" "Yes," he sighed. "Did it hurt?" "Yes." "Did you cry?" Talbot glared at him out of the corner of his eye, and the boy immediately shrank in his seat. "Oh. Well, me either." A few moments of silence passed, and Talbot was eternally thankful to be able to hear himself think once again. Perhaps the little pest had run out of bothersome questions. He could only hope. "So, is your friend a secret agent?" Talbot found himself coughing, for lack of a better response, and for once actually looking at the child. “What gave you that ridiculous idea?” "It’s just like in the movies."

The young boy clasped his hands together as his index fingers touched, forming a make-believe weapon. The “barrel” of the gun was soon pointed in all directions as he verbally imitated gun noises. Luckily for Talbot, the obnoxious display was cut short as the door burst open just then, revealing the determined expression of Marlowe. Her green-eyed gaze immediately found him, and Henry was following closely behind her. "Hey, is that your mom?!" the boy asked eagerly, glancing from Talbot to Marlowe. Talbot placed a palm over his eyes, feeling very much like he wanted to curl into a hole and slowly die there.

#killerscholarbusinessman #HOSPITAL FEELS #talbot hates hospitals #everyone's glad for some comic relief #except marlowe #marlowe is always annoyed

In that moment, Marlowe didn't have the energy to give Agent 39 much attention. In retrospect, she would surely be tickled by his ability to remain calm and lighthearted during such a trying time. Not many men could boast such a thing, and those that could were precious finds indeed- more than worthy of working alongside her. The thought would come later, when she was looking over the mission documents, able to see the entire picture clearly in black and white and assess what had gone wrong, and what had been right, as she always did.

Right then, it was taking all her faculties to keep her own emotions in check. Even just being away from Talbot momentarily, knowing he was alone and helpless with 39 at her side instead of his, made her chest tighten with concern. She had no spare energy with which to give 39 a glib compliment.

Thankfully, it didn't take long to walk to that hospital room, and there were no further surprises. That is, aside from Talbot's new-found "friend."

As they burst in the door before Talbot and the small boy, Marlowe and her Agent were quite the intimidating sight. Both were brandishing weapons. Marlowe's clothing looked dull from dirt and dust, both of the hospital and the jungle ruins they'd fled from originally. Talbot's blood was dried in stiff dark stains on her white shirt and khaki pants, in contrast to the new blood from the most recent altercation which was sticky-red and seemed to glisten in the fluorescent lighting.

The lines on Marlowe's face seemed deeper with weariness and concern, and certainly didn't help in contesting the young boy's annoying query. Sadly, it wasn't the first time that mistake had been made by someone who saw Marlowe and her protege together. In Marlowe's opinion, adopting a wayward child in an attempt to fulfill some kind of empty parenting instinct was the mark of a very weak person indeed. Her eyes narrowed behind bloodstained bangs.

"If you're quite done socializing, Talbot, we need to be on our way." Marlowe's tone was sharp and dripped with irritation. It was much easier to deal with her feelings of anger and frustration, and to lean on them, rather than to cope with the relief and worry that threatened to choke her simultaneously.

She finally looked back at Agent 39, expecting him to have followed along behind her. Not saying a word, she inclined her head towards the half-naked man wrapped in a blanket, assuming that he'd understand the unspoken order. Still thoroughly ignoring the small boy, Marlowe busied herself with checking the clip on the automatic rifle, while 39 resumed his position as human crutches.

▼

"I hate hospitals.”

Still standing and staring at the door of the dimly-lit hospital room, Talbot heard the pelting blast of gunfire through the walls as it reverberated loudly down the hallway. His fists were clenched, unable to relax knowing that he was currently alone and powerless to do anything.

"Are you sick, too?" The unfamiliar voice startled him out of his dark thoughts. Perhaps he wasn’t as alone as he’d initially thought… Spinning around, though the grips on the bottom of his socks prevented it from being a smooth movement, Talbot stumbled. His eyes focused on the small figure of a young boy cowering in the opposite corner of the room, wearing pajamas. He immediately recognized the child as the one that their recently-deceased agent had nearly shot. In all of 39’s haste to get him to safety, he wondered if the other man had realized that he’d chosen to place him in an occupied room. The reasoning behind why such a young boy would be left behind wasn’t one that he had time to consider. Talbot merely raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to say, or if he should say anything at all. He noticed, of course, that the boy’s gaze was morbidly fixated on his injured leg, where dried blood was caking on his skin. He settled on the simplest answer. “Yes.” "I saw you throw up," the child admitted sheepishly, and shrugged. "It’s okay, everybody does it sometimes." Talbot crossed his arms over his chest as he remained silent, though the boy still stared at him, as children were oft to do. He wondered if he was afraid. Several beats passed. It was easy to admit that Talbot had never been good with children or animals… nor did he like them. Thankfully, his job didn’t require such things. He could only hope that Marlowe and 39 had fared well and would return for him soon, so that he wasn’t stuck babysitting. He practically froze in place when the boy hesitantly took a few steps towards him, watching as he bent to retrieve the tan-colored blanket that had fallen from his shoulders earlier. "You dropped this." The boy offered up the blanket with a meek smile, holding a corner of it, while the rest dragged on the shining, tiled floor. Nodding his thanks, Talbot reached out a hand to take it from him. As Talbot once again draped the soft material around his shoulders, the child was again caught staring at the bloody sight of his wounded leg and shoulder. "Does it hurt?" he asked, with wide eyes as he stared up at him. Outside of the room, there was another deafening blast of gunfire before all was silent again. Talbot’s heart seemed to wrench in his chest. "More than you can possibly imagine." ——————————————————————————————— 39 rushed down the hall, not sure what he was expecting to see… and found Marlowe aiming at him with his borrowed revolver. It seemed that she’d made quick use of it.

He paused, raising a hand up defensively out of instinct.

It was a gruesome sight, but Marlowe appeared to be unharmed as she lowered her weapon while she stood among the bloody mess of corpses splayed at her feet… one of their own included. The corridor was filled with the sounds of the elevator’s incessant beeping as one of the bodies obstructed its doors. "Well," Henry breathed, "that’s one way to hold the lift."

#killerscholarbusinessman #hospital feels #((LOOK AT THIS POST))#((LOOK AT IT))#((I know no-one reads our posts but read Talbots amazing post it is so worth it))#((SUCH A BEAUTIFUL POST))#((Talbot has the most talented writer mun))#((everyone be jelly))

Marlowe narrowed her eyes at her agent standing before her, pausing for a beat before huffing a breath audibly through her nose. "Cheeky." She shook her head with amusement. Ignoring Agent 39 once more for the moment, Marlowe bent down to pry the automatic rifle from the cold dead hands of the downed mercenary. The other rifle and the fallen agent’s guns were the same as their bodies: steeped in blood. Thankfully the third weapon was unscathed, surely in working order, and Marlowe claimed it for her own. Ignoring the protesting elevator, though it had turned from cheerful chirp to a unceasing buzzer, Marlowe left the corpse to block its door. She didn’t want any more surprises to come up at them before they made their way to the roof. Though 39 had been seemingly poking fun, he wasn’t wrong. "I’ve no more need for this," Marlowe said flippantly, holding 39’s borrowed revolver flat in her hand. She took a few strides and shoved the gun back at her agent, open-palming its metal against his suited chest as she walked past. She’d surely let it drop if he wasn’t fast enough on the uptake. "Come on, then, let’s retrieve my…" Marlowe faltered, unsure of how she wanted to finish that sentence in Agent 39’s presence. "…Agent Talbot,” she finished, muttering. She was ready for this trip to be over and done with, and now that the high of adrenaline was wearing off, she was returning to that barely-contained annoyance at their situation. She wanted to get her beaten lieutenant and leave without further incident or agent casualties. Expression pulled tight and determined, Marlowe stomped down the hall towards where Talbot had been dragged to, holding the rifle in both hands across her chest. She left perfect bloody bootprints in her wake.

▼

"I hate hospitals.”

Talbot was supported effortlessly by 39, down the hallway and turning at the adjacent one. The bright fluorescent lights weren’t nearly as intense with several bulbs having been damaged in the firefight. It certainly gave the hallway an eerie sort of feeling… but Talbot was far from concerned with that. At the moment, he was feeling remarkably light-headed and a bit nauseous. Marlowe took the lead, and soon they arrived at the end of the hall. The three men formed a protective circle around the metal doors out of sheer habit. Once they stopped, Talbot rested heavily against the other man, his weight on one leg, and Henry readjusted his hold around Talbot’s waist. His subordinate offered him a brief glance to be sure that he was all right. 39’s courtesy truly was appreciated, and he wondered if it was strange for him to be stripped of any sort of weapon. Marlowe, on the other hand, almost seemed as if she’d missed having a gun in her grasp. It had been a long time… Talbot was so lost in thought, he was badly startled when a deathly loud shot rang out through he otherwise silent hallway. His reaction was delayed, clutching to Henry at the shoulder. 39 had gripped him tightly in return, apparently ready to drag him out of harm’s way, if necessary. Thankfully, it was nothing to concern themselves with. As they all peered down the hallway, they caught a glimpse of the young boy that had just barely avoided being a target. He was entirely unharmed, scooting his way back into the abandoned hospital room. They seemed to breathe a universal sigh of relief. Killing a civilian over a twitchy trigger finger was certainly far from what they wanted… especially a child. The situation was messy enough as it was. Marlowe made her point quite clear, her gaze stern as she lowered the man’s weapon for him and issued a warning. 39, meanwhile, was giving a disapproving look to his fellow agent. Quite occupied with the blunder, the lot of them were taken by surprise at the elevator signified its arrival with a familiar ding. The steel doors had barely opened when two heavily-armored men stepped forth. Whether it was by planning or sheer dumb luck that they’d stumbled upon their targets, they couldn’t be certain, but they began open-firing. To Talbot, it was all a blurry haze of sights and sound. Their agent, who had just lowered his weapon, couldn’t quite raise his gun again with enough time to return fire. His black suit was riddled with bullets as blood spattered everywhere, and his lifeless corpse fell to the floor with a thud of dead weight. Blood began pooling beneath the body, flooding all over the pristine white tiles. Wide-eyed, Talbot felt another wave of nausea overwhelming his senses, and he was vaguely aware of Henry guiding him down the hallway where the boy was just sighted. Talbot looked over his shoulder, his gaze focused on Marlowe in opposition to the two intimidating figures… not wishing to leave her. Talbot momentarily forgot to move his feet, and 39 literally dragged him a few paces towards the nearest safe area. "Come on! We have to move, now!" Reluctantly obeying, he was soon shoved into another quiet hospital room, his socked feet practically sliding through the doorway as Henry tugged him in. Talbot shoved away from him, for the first time all day, standing on his own. The blanket that had been providing him warmth dropped to the floor. "We can’t just leave Marlowe!" he shouted, as loud as he could, though his voice was hoarse. Down the hallway, he could hear the echoes of gunfire, and it chilled him to the bone. "She’s alone out there!" Limbs shaking, Talbot was barely holding it together. The stress and fear for Marlowe’s safety, combined with his weary state and the drugs in his system, was proving unusually difficult to handle. Thankfully, there was a wastebasket nearby, and he limped over to it. Bending at the waist, he was immediately ill. When he stood again, wobbling slightly, Talbot faced his subordinate, standing as straight as he could, all things considered. Henry was shaking his head, looking as if he were ready to attend to him. "Sir, you’re really not looking well—" he said with a hand raised, and began stepping towards him. "I’ll be fine,” Talbot groaned. He pointed a finger at the doorway, commanding obedience. “Please. Go to her. That’s an order.” Though 39 looked reluctant to leave him, having taken strict orders for Talbot’s safety, he gave a stern nod. “Yes, sir.”

A moment later, and Talbot was watching his retreating form… wearily taking a few steps to close the door behind him.

#killerscholarbusinessman #hospital feels #talbot hates hospitals

The two armed men’s faces registered confusion, obviously not anticipating anyone to be there when the elevator doors opened. It was only a split-second that Marlowe could even meet their eyes, not wasting any time before they raised their guns and started firing. Marlowe’s limbs moved without her thinking, skirting to the side and placing her back against the wall next to the open doors, narrowly avoiding the bullet spray. The other agent wasn’t so lucky. He hadn’t even been able to turn around, gun still pointed at the floor, when he was cut to ribbons from automatic gunfire. His suddenly unrecognizable lifeless body fell to a sloppy heap on the floor like a sliced-open bag, dark red blood seeping out onto the tile floor. Marlowe’s blood ran cold, but her grip on the revolver in her hands was sure. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, her heart thudding in her chest, but the feeling was nostalgically familiar. The thrill of standing at death’s door, that sudden win-or-lose at the end of a gun, though it was something to be avoided whenever possible, still came with its own brand of morbid excitement. The fragility of life was never more obvious than when your own was in the palm of your hand. It made one feel most alive. Out of her peripheral vision Marlowe saw as Agent 39 dragged Talbot away from the fray, his response immediate and swift. Thankful that her wounded protege was in good hands, she kept her attention on the men before her. The two mercenaries had only been distracted for the moment that it took to gun down her agent, and their sights were turning once more. She intended to keep them occupied. Just as the man closer to her was turning towards her spot flush against the wall, just having taken a step out of the elevator, Marlowe raised her arms, aiming for the man’s head. It was an easy shot, not a foot between the end of her barrel and the man’s temple. Marlowe pulled back the heavy trigger of the double-action revolver smoothly and with a loud crack split a hole through the man’s cranium. Thick blood sprayed out like paint across the dark leather of Marlowe’s jacket and dotted her white-blonde bangs red. The heavy-caliber bullet went through and whizzed past the second man just narrowly avoiding cutting across his face. The dead man took a lifeless knee before his body collapsed entirely onto his rifle and into the blood of the fallen agent, his heavy gear thudding on the tile flooring. Already firing again, the second man moved to point his weapon towards Marlowe, the sound of rapidfire deafening. Before he could complete the arc over his dead comrade she closed in and kicked out a booted foot, stomping the metal just below his gloved hands in an attempt to dislodge the weapon. He did not let go, but bent over slightly with the sudden weight, giving Marlowe ample opportunity to hit him soundly across the forehead with the hard steel of the pistol’s barrel, splitting the skin there. He was stunned for a moment but quickly recovering. She stayed very close to the man, grabbing at his upper-arm just as he moved to push her back, to get her into firing range. Before he could use his no doubt superior strength to free himself, she fired again, snaking her arm under his and shooting him between the collarbone, just above where kevlar armor was protecting his chest. Firing the powerful weapon one-handed at such an odd angle sent a spike of pain through to her shoulder, but Marlowe ignored it. It certainly hurt him worse. The man gave a shocked cough and sputtered blood, his grip on Marlowe relinquishing and she shoved him backwards onto the ground, his upper-half laying in the elevator. His eyes seemed shocked and disbelieving, but he still tried to move his weapon towards her, and she pinned it with a foot. Not taking any chances, she solidly fired another round right between the eyes, and he was still. Blood was everywhere. A pile of three bodies was now added to the hospital’s gruesome decor. What a messy business. With the hallway silent once more, Marlowe was suddenly aware of her breaths, quick and hissed in through her teeth as she stood over the dead man, feeling victorious. Her extremities tingled with adrenaline. Her heart raced. She licked her dry lips, trying to catch her breath. At the sound of footsteps, Marlowe turned suddenly and aimed the gun out once more, eyes wild and expression deadly. She found 39 in her sights and lowered the gun instantly, finger moving back off the trigger as she took a deep breath. The elevator doors attempted to shut to provide some common courtesy to anyone else awaiting its services, but were stopped by the heavy corpse blocking the doors. An insistent and seemingly annoyed chirp sounded.

▼

"I hate hospitals.”

Talbot watched, dazedly, as Marlowe gripped the revolver and checked it for ammunition. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d seen a loaded weapon in her grasp until today. Save for himself, he was certain that no one in their organization realized just how much prowess she had with firearms, having been using them long before many of their agents were even born. Himself included. Though he knew better than anyone that she was more than capable, it was never something that he felt should be necessary. He had a purpose, after all, and at the moment, he wasn’t serving it.

Even if he was currently idle, he at least consoled himself that they were in worthy company. As 39 listened in on the radio call, Talbot was calm. They’d had enough obstacles thrown at them today, so whatever the update was, he could hardly be surprised. Though, in part, he supposed he could thank the drugs for his current level of apathy. At the news of having to make their way to the topmost floor, rather than a hasty exit towards the front of the building, Talbot only hoped that there wouldn’t be any stairs involved. The lull of medication aside, he knew he didn’t have the stamina for such a daunting task. 39 nodded as Marlowe gave a huff, and she began moving out, walking right past them. Talbot watched her as she palmed the door handle. Perhaps a bit wistfully, he silently wished that he could still be near to her. Nothing compared to her touch, or the closeness that they shared. Marlowe’s decision to take the lead and hand him over to 39 was for the best, of course… for both of them.

There was little to do but carry on… quite literally for Talbot, as he was supported almost fully by the other man. With Henry leading, taking the first tentative step forward, Talbot limped beside him. The first couple of steps were fumbling and awkward, still favoring one side as he attempted to keep the weight off of his injured leg. If possible, he’d like to avoid popping his stitches any further. It was a strange adjustment, not only due to 39’s vastly different stature… but also because Talbot didn’t typically allow other people, save for Marlowe, to have any close contact with him, necessary or not. He risked a glance out of the corner of his eye at 39, wondering if the other man found it strange to support his commanding lieutenant in such an intimate manner. Showing vulnerability to Marlowe was one thing, but being perceived as weakened in the company of one of his men was something else entirely. Up until now, Henry had never seen Talbot show any form of weakness… and especially not to the point of being half-naked, wounded, and drugged. It was a bit extreme. The reassurance, though he had said nothing, surprised Talbot. "Take it easy, sir," Henry said, in the same dutiful tone. He seemed rather unfazed by it all as he adjusted Talbot’s arm around his neck, holding him a bit more firmly. "You’ve got it. If a threat arises, I’m trained in battlefield transportation."

Talbot knew precisely what that meant… the “fireman’s lift” or “soldier’s carry,” which would have Talbot hefted across 39’s shoulders like a shepherd carrying a wayward sheep.

"Duly noted," Talbot mumbled. For his pride’s sake, or at least what remained of it, he hoped such a thing wouldn’t occur. Slowly, but steadily, 39 aided him a few steps out of the exam room, and out into the brightly lit hallway. There was still a twinge of discomfort in his injured thigh, but it was more from the pull of the stitches than actual pain. It wasn’t blinding or intolerable any longer, and indeed, the injection had helped. The only issue was that he barely felt the weight of his limbs through the strange, floating cloud of the painkillers. He was almost weightless. Squinting his eyes while Marlowe scouted ahead, Talbot observed their surroundings. The hospital was in disarray, and the barren hallways were an eerie sight compared to the chaotic scene they’d passed through earlier. Above them, a broken strip of lighting sparked and flickered, startling Talbot as he glanced upwards, and then stared for a few moments longer than was necessary. "There’s an elevator down the next hallway," 39 said to Marlowe, and nodded his head in the direction in which they should go.

#killerscholarbusinessman #talbot hates hospitals #for my bb

Out of her peripheral vision Marlowe could see Talbot’s head turn listlessly to gaze after her as she walked past, his expression no doubt glazed over with drugs. She had to ignore him and steel herself. It would be a great folly to let herself be distracted by tender feelings when her mind should be focused on the steel of the gun in her hand and the possibly treacherous hospital before them. She pointedly ignored the shuffling steps and conversation of the two men behind her, setting aside her thoughts and feelings on Talbot to deal with later, and instead nodded in return to the second suited agent to her left. Just before moving on, she glanced over her shoulder for a moment, eyes narrowing discerningly at Agent 39 as he spoke up to her. “Roger that~” Marlowe said, voice more sarcastic than confirming. She appreciated the knowledge, but certainly wasn’t used to working with a team anymore. The landscape was mostly unchanged as one hall connected to another. It was strange to think that so many people had made a hasty exit not half an hour before. It was easy to look at the place and assume there was no other human life around.

The hallways seemed barren aside from the hospital furniture debris and a few scattered unmoving corpses leaned against a wall or in the middle of the floor, though Marlowe was still wary of them. Too many times an enemy had played dead and appeared again to cause damage. She wasn’t going to fall for that one this time. Thankfully and grimly, every dead body was civilian rather than militant.

At least the halls were clear of enemies. She didn’t look back, but gave a flick of the wrist for her men to follow her, then walked on. Marlowe took point, while the second agent resumed his position behind Talbot and 39 who was currently acting as human crutches. It didn’t take them long to traverse the distance, though Marlowe wasn’t sure if it was truly faster, or if things had just seemed slower when she’d been carrying Talbot herself.

The lights at the top of the elevator in the middle of the hall acted as a beacon where multiple panels of fluorescent lighting had gone dark with damage. The four of them settled into a loose circle near the elevator’s doors. Back to the top floor it was. Katherine Marlowe’s lined hand hovered over the elevator call button and stopped. She hadn’t noticed before. It was already lit. Apparently someone had recently pressed it, then left. It was curious. Why would any of their opposition hide or flee? Obviously it was her present company on the run, with additional agents pinned down or dying. Priorly she and her wounded protege had been chased down a hall with abandon. There was no need for them, whoever they were, to be playing mind games when they could just thoroughly overpower with weapons alone. Her eyes scanned the area behind them just as the shorter agent trained his gun on a doorway that was cracked ajar. He fired one loud shot that muffled a sharp cry, hitting the door through the wood just above the handle. It would have easily hit a man dead in the chest had they been holding the door handle- but as the wood swung open a small boy was on his hands and knees backpedaling into the room. With an exasperated sigh Marlowe put her hand palm flat above the agent’s gun as he held it outstretched. “Don’t waste your bullets,” Marlowe said, moving to force him to lower the piece. The agent was sweating. Of course they had cause to be jumpy. That was no reason to be sloppy. With a sudden bright chirp of warning their attentions were commanded back to the elevator. That was far sooner than expected, leaving them no time to join the boy within the momentary safety of the hospital room. The doors slid open with a whisper of polished steel against itself. Inside the industrial-sized elevator, big enough to fit a few wheel chairs or a rolling hospital bed, stood two men in bulletproof vests, sporting gruff frowns and carrying automatic weapons. Time seemed to slow to a stop.

iures

#the lady in question

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"I hate hospitals.”

Talbot was immediately steadied by both Marlowe and 39, quite thankful for their aid. In other circumstances, he’d be far more stubborn… likely refusing such an overabundance of help, but they were all well aware of the fact that he was far past that point.

Right now, he needed them. He felt Marlowe’s hand splay upon his bare chest, catching her gaze for a few moments. It was a brief exchange, his glazed-over expression meeting with her grave one. Aside from being a bit lightheaded, he truly did feel as if he could manage. The deep, throbbing aches that plagued his shoulder and thigh were now practically non-existant. He just wished that he could express it better. His heart gave a pang to see her so concerned, and he watched as her arm dropped back to her hip… Marlowe’s sturdy wall once again built up. Lips pursed, she wasn’t looking at him. Feeling in a bit of a haze, and only half-alert due to the fast-acting painkiller, Talbot had to concentrate as he listened to Marlowe and 39. Glancing between the two of them, he almost expected Marlowe to refuse 39’s aid, but she seemed to know her own limits. It was apparent to him that she was already weary, and he admired that she was able to be realistic about such things. She may be prideful at times, but she’d never put their lives at risk over something so trivial. Aside from that, he’d truly feel awful if he slowed them both down… and Marlowe needed her strength just as much as he did. Getting him to the lower levels was no small feat, after all. At the request of his weapon, (which felt like some sort of strange trade; Talbot for 39’s gun) Henry immediately relinquished it with a nod of acknowledgement. Where some agents might throw a fuss at such a request, 39 handed it over without a beat. "Of course, ma’am." Talbot, in truth, was a bit thankful for that. Though, the sight of Marlowe with a weapon in hand wasn’t as common as a sight as it used to be. Not that he doubted her abilities, of course. He silently wondered if 39 had ever seen her on the battlefield. If not, the younger man was surely in for a surprise. Henry wrapped an arm around Talbot’s waist, effectively holding the blanket in place, and then brought his uninjured arm to be slung around his neck where he gripped his wrist. As Talbot looked again to Marlowe, she still wasn’t looking him in the eye. Expression suddenly quite serious, with brows tightly knitted, Henry’s hand was raised to his ear… apparently receiving a radio call. "Excuse me," he said politely to the two of them, before answering it. Talbot leaned against him, expecting the hold to be weak, but 39 was solid. Even with one arm occupied as he pressed his finger to his ear, there was no way he’d let Talbot topple over. The silence was practically staggering as they waited for him to relay the incoming message. Talbot glanced to Marlowe once more, but there was no nervousness in his system… merely an intense feeling of relaxation. "Affirmative. ETA 20 minutes. Meet at the rendezvous point. Thirty-nine, over." When the call was ended, 39 tightened his grip on Talbot, and looked to Marlowe as he gave his update. ”They believe it’s too risky to venture outside,” he said. “More enemies have arrived and our men are scarce. We’re sending in a helicopter, which should be arriving at the helipad at the top of the building shortly.”

#killerscholarbusinessman #hospital feels #talbot hates hospitals #but likes drugs

Though it was difficult, Katherine Marlowe was doing her best to focus on the situation at hand, and not worry too much about the state of her protege. The glances she stole at his face, expression far-away and mind no doubt addled with drugs, did little to ease her tension. At the very least he seemed to be in less pain, and she was thankful that the impromptu medication was helping. Their small respite had come to a swift end, and she was loathe to leave it in such a state. There was no choice, of course.

Marlowe gave a nod and took 39's revolver without thanks, holding it tightly in her grasp. It felt good to have a weapon finally. Out of habit she checked the barrel then closed it, keeping in mind that there were only six shots. Apparently he'd been diligent with his reloading, as all the chambers were full with unfired rounds.

It had indeed been quite a while since Marlowe was on ground zero with the troops, armed and dangerous. Since Talbot had become her fully-fleged second-in-command there really had been no need. He was more than capable of dealing with all the fighting, gunfire and battlefield orders, leaving her to cross Ts, dot Is, and do all the other interpersonal communications neccessary. Sometimes Marlowe missed it. She'd always fancied herself a better mercenary than glorified secretary, never truly wanting to carry on the mantle of the "family business." Infuriatingly, time always had a way of giving you the most unexpected twists and turns in life... thankfully not all of them unpleasant.

Regardless, in this instance, she felt much more secure gripping cold steel. She'd have to entrust Talbot to 39's able shoulders for now.

They were just getting prepared to head out, Agent 39 easily steadying the taller man around the waist, when they paused for a call. To-the-moment updates were intensely important in a situation such as this. Both she and Talbot waited, his expression blankly sedated and hers a forced calm, wishing for better news than worse.

Of course it was a complication.

Marlowe gave a breath through her nose, attempting to remain poised though she was quite ready for this ordeal to be over with.

"Then we'd better get going," Marlowe said, her voice a harsh whisper. Without another word she strode past Talbot and Agent 39, opening the door to the hall with one hand, brandishing the revolver in the other.

The hallway was emptying, now mostly full of overturned hospital furniture, debris, and the occasional fallen lifeless body or streak of drying blood. It seemed that most people had moved on, whether to another floor, to a central location, or to the outside, they couldn't be sure. That left the area strangely quiet and even the evacuation sirens had been silenced. The sound of gunfire was absent. If the update was to be believed, much of the firepower was now outdoors. The hum of electricity in the building, and a few sparking overhead fluorescent lights- damaged from stray bullets no doubt- were the only sounds that echoed in the hall.

The other agent was still leaning next to the doorframe, and gave Marlowe a nod and stood at attention as he realized she was taking point. No doubt he'd received the same update that 39 had.

Again they were stepping into the fray, outcome unknown. They had to find an elevator, for although it would leave them out in the open to wait for one, it would be safer than attempting to drag Talbot up a half-dozen flight of stairs. They had to be cautious, and Marlowe stepped lightly as she started down the hall.

▼

"I hate hospitals.”

Talbot was thankful that Marlowe made his decency a priority as she promptly tugged his boxers back up. In his current state, a bleary haze of exhaustion and pain, he wasn’t quite thinking clearly. For now, he wouldn’t dwell on the fact that one of his men had just seen him nearly naked.

Marlowe pointedly ignored Henry as the man spoke, continuing to attend to Talbot as if he wasn’t even there. It was a talent that his superior had always had… it was no matter to her. If she wanted to finish what she was doing, regardless of another person’s presence, she simply would. The news was welcomed, of course… but the timing seemed a bit inopportune. Freshly medicated, the drugs hadn’t a chance to quite take effect yet. He’d have preferred to rest until they were active in his system, but he also knew that their window of opportunity could be brief. Regrettably, they had to leave. As 39 stood at the ready, Marlowe removed the blanket from his chair and wrapped it around Talbot’s shoulders, gently taking hold of his arm to help him stand upright. He wobbled slightly, not quite steady on his feet, and she studied his features closely. He wondered what she was thinking. Marlowe reassured Henry of Talbot’s condition, and the man gave a solemn nod while Marlowe disposed of the used syringe and explained the rather compromising situation that he’d walked in upon. "Understood, ma’am." The agent threw a sympathetic glance to Talbot, his mouth twisting into something resembling a smile, his features softening in a way that was barely observable. It seemed that he felt safe glancing at Talbot again, now that his arse wasn’t exposed. When she said that he’d be fine, Talbot believed her… her faith in him only bolstering his confidence. He stood a little straighter, content to allow the two of them to speak about him. He felt renewed despite the severity of the situation… … and then the drugs began to kick in. "Oh, damn…” Feeling a euphoric rush that seemed to go straight to his head, Talbot stumbled, and had to lean against the chair for support once again. Raising a hand to his face, he felt a strange warmth spreading through his limbs with a bit of a tingling sensation.

Dear god, how much had she given him? He was vaguely aware of Marlowe reaching out to him, or Henry rushing a few feet over to keep him steady. ”It might be best if I carry him,” said 39, protectively holding onto Talbot’s shoulder as he regarded Marlowe on the opposite side of him. “So long as that’s all right with you.”

As Talbot wavered, catching himself on the chair, Katherine Marlowe and her Agent both moved instantly towards him. The other man's hand grasped Talbot's shoulder to steady him, and her own fell almost helplessly against Talbot's chest, still outstretched from when she'd offered her hand to him. Marlowe's eyes searched Talbot's expression, hoping it was only wooziness from the drugs, and not any further complications of his injuries and bloodloss. Her fingertips curled against his clammy skin right above where gauze was securely stretched, disappearing under the soft blanket and covering his wounded shoulder. Attempting to act casual, she let her hand slip back to rest at her hip as 39 spoke. Marlowe pursed her lips, feeling an internal tug in her chest as she listened. She was loathe to let Talbot go when he was in such poor condition: battered, bruised, and now unsteady on his feet due to the strong medication. He was pathetic, and he needed extra care. He needed her care. Unfortunately, she couldn't argue with Agent 39's words. It would be best if the sturdy man helped keep Talbot on his feet- a man who, in the case of dire emergency, could heft her thin lieutenant and literally carry him to safety. She couldn't claim as much. "Of course," Marlowe said flippantly, attempting to sound as unfazed as possible. She forced herself not to look Talbot in the eye. "Give me your weapon," she said, placing her hand out to the tan-haired man without missing a beat. "I can make use of it while your hands are full." She had no doubt that Agent 39 was skilled enough to shoot one-handed, even if he carried a revolver, but she wouldn't have him taking chances with her precious protege. If he was to help Talbot amble along, he'd be doing that and nothing else. Besides, Marlowe needed something to busy herself with in the meantime.

▼

"I hate hospitals.”

Talbot’s grip tightened around the arm of the chair.

He glanced around, not wanting to focus his gaze downwards at the bloodstained cushion that he’d just been seated upon. On the wall to his right, he happened to notice the ridiculous picture frame hanging upon the wall. He hadn’t seen it earlier, too busy attempting to control the bleeding in his leg, and he couldn’t help but wonder how people found comfort in such pointless, trivial things. A photograph of a waterfall… complete with “inspirational” text across it. The message wasn’t even subtle. Relax. Talbot nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all. Somehow managing to maintain his composure, he willed his muscles not to clench as he felt the warmth of Marlowe’s hand upon his backside. Next came the uncomfortable pinch of the needle as it was jabbed into his bum…. followed by a deep, aching sensation as the medicine was injected. "Ohh, unngh…” A low groan sounded in his throat as he grimaced, shutting his eyes tightly. He tried to remember to keep his breathing even, so as not to start feeling lightheaded. It didn’t matter how accustomed he was to receiving drugs in such a way. It always hurt. With any luck, the painkiller would soon have the desired effect, and he wouldn’t feel anything at all. As Marlowe withdrew the needle, Talbot inhaled a quick hiss through his teeth. A lingering soreness remained as Marlowe applied pressure to the injection site, and soothed him with her softly spoken words. While others might feel demeaned in such a situation, Talbot felt truly comforted. He knew that Marlowe wouldn’t do the same for anyone else. Her care-taking was reserved for him, and him alone. Especially the rubbing. Another wave of heat rushed to Talbot’s face as Marlowe gently massaged his backside where he’d been stuck. The unexpected sensation had caught him quite off guard, and he resisted the urge to enjoy it too much. Now was not the time… "No, Marlowe," he managed in reply, his voice wavering a bit as she caressed the back of his head. "Thank you." He looked over his shoulder at her, not wishing for the physical contact to cease. Talbot would have expressed his appreciation more coherently, had the door to the small exam room not opened just then… revealing a stocky and imposing figure. If they’d been under fire at that moment, Talbot would have been far too slow to react. He froze in place, panicked momentarily before recognition quickly overrode it. 39’s piercing eyes glanced from Marlowe to Talbot as he shut the door behind him, surely noticing Talbot’s further state of undress and his awkward positioning. The agent’s features showed determination, before truly looking apologetic, politely turning his gaze away from the sight. "I’m sorry for the intrusion, ma’am," he said, looking at Marlowe, his gun still in hand and brow deeply furrowed. "The situation has improved and a perimeter has been established. I highly recommend moving out as soon as possible."

He gave a pause, eyes briefly flickering back to Talbot before regarding her. Not a muscle on his face moved. “Is he going to be all right?” For the first time all day, Henry didn’t address Talbot directly… instead inquiring about his condition via Marlowe.

Marlowe bristled as the door opened suddenly, without even a knock, the blaring sirens sounding once more. Her eyes were narrowed and her hand was a fist around the empty syringe, ready to use it as a weapon if need be. Thankfully, there was no need, and both she and Talbot recognized their agent standing there after a beat, sharing strained expressions. Obviously they’d both gone to another place, enjoying the tiny respite the exam room had provided. It was a mistake made only due to their combined weariness, and also Marlowe’s sincere trust in her remaining agents. Apparently it hadn’t been poorly placed. Agent 39 noticed that he’d caught Talbot literally with his pants down, and had the decency to both avert his eyes and not mention it. As the man gave his report and advice, Marlowe moved to make Talbot’s backside decent again. With two fingers hooked around the waistband, she pulled up Talbot’s boxers, feeling no need to ask for permission or look at him at all. Still not responding to the awaiting Agent’s words, Marlowe singlemindedly took the blanket that was draped over the back of the bloodstained chair and pulled it around Talbot’s shoulders once more. It seemed to help him fight off the chill that had settled in with the severe bloodloss. Placing her free hand on Talbot’s upper-arm, she helped him into an upright standing position. She regarded him, concern creasing her brow momentarily as she studied his face. Hopefully the medication would provide some comfort to Talbot’s surely aching wounds. "Yes," Marlowe said matter-of-factly, finally meeting 39’s level gaze with her own. "He’ll be fine." Her voice had more stoic confidence than she truly felt inside. It wasn’t lost on her that they were talking about Talbot right in front of his face. She didn’t care. She walked to the wall to dispose of the used syringe in the sharps container that was mounted beside the cabinets. "The wait allowed me to administer some additional medical attention," she said, explaining away the situation before the agent even asked. Though she wished to give Talbot more time to allow for the painkillers to flood his system, she knew that time was of the essence, and she would heed 39’s advice. Besides, once the painkiller fully kicked in, she honestly wasn’t sure if Talbot would even be able to stand. They had barely made it here, hopefully Talbot would be able to stay in one piece through another mad dash to safety. She gave a nod to Agent 39, then turned once more to her protege. She wanted to ask him if he was alright, or if he was ready to leave, but every word along that line of questioning stuck in her throat. They all felt too soft or too foreboding. "Come on, then," Marlowe snapped, putting a hand out to Talbot.

turkishmughalempress

Uncharted 3

#the lady in question

▼

"I hate hospitals.”

Leaning awkwardly against the chair, Talbot could only hope that she was being sincere. Currently, his bum was one of his few unharmed areas. He intended to keep it that way.

His sense of humor faded somewhat as Marlowe retrieved the items again. She came to stand behind him, and a moment later, she had shamelessly tugged his boxers down on one side without so much as a warning. Talbot’s face immediately flushed hot… most likely the first hint of color he’d had in his face all day, and he began to sweat in a nervous response. It simply couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t as if Marlowe had never seen the his arse before (she was, over anyone else, quite familiar with the sight) or that injections bothered him… but being in such compromising positions always left him feeling flustered. Especially when Marlowe was involved. He knew that it was logically nothing to feel shame over. In his line of work, he’d been jabbed plenty of times, and painkillers were a common occurrence, as typical as bloodshed and bruises. Still, it never got any less embarrassing. Thankfully, Marlowe was being quick about it, though he couldn’t help but wonder if she was enjoying this a bit. Talbot inhaled a quick breath, the alcohol swab feeling cold against his backside as he shivered. He fully expected the sting of the needle shortly after, but it seemed that Marlowe had paused. Turning his head, he glanced over his shoulder, unsure of what to expect… but he saw that she was studying him. Marlowe’s expression was one of genuine concern as she held the syringe ready. "I’m all right," he said gently, his expression soft. He appreciated her being so considerate… even if he truly did wish to get this done and over with.

#killerscholarbusinessman #hospital feels #deal with it talbutt

Talbot’s cheeks were rosy, his face flushing from embarrassment, and Marlowe couldn’t help but notice.. Finally, she thought, giving him a slight smile. She’d assumed every bit of blood had drained from his body, but she was pleased there was still enough left for what was a typical reaction from her protege. It made her feel hopeful for his imminent recovery.

She couldn’t deny that it was always entertaining to see him squirm, especially over something as typical as a shot. The man could be riddled with bullets, stabbed, or beaten almost unconscious with the most stoic of reactions- but pull down his trousers for a shot of pain relief and he blushed like a schoolgirl. It really never got old.

Marlowe didn’t reply aloud, but merely gave Talbot a smooth nod, before turning her attention back to the work at hand.

Using her forefinger and thumb, she spread his skin taut, then buried the entire needle into his buttock in one swift movement. She pulled the plunger back slightly, and when no blood was visible mixed in with the painkiller, she began emptying the liquid into his backside.

It only took a few moments as she pressed down on the syringe smoothly, but surely it felt longer for Talbot. She knew it wasn’t a pleasant experience to have, fluid pressing into ones muscles under the skin, but it was necessary. A little discomfort to help prevent further overwhelming pain was certainly worth it.

Finally empty, she removed the needle from his skin, then used her opposite hand to press a small piece of gauze over the puncture, keeping pressure on it to be sure it wasn’t bleeding.

"There, all done,” Marlowe said softly, as if speaking to a small animal. She then rubbed the spot where he’d been pricked gently, massaging with her fingertips to ease the ache that it had surely caused. She realized that Talbot was sweating.

"That wasn’t so bad, was it?" she asked and smoothed a hand over the hair at the back of his neck comfortingly.

▼

"I hate hospitals.”

Certainly far from a prideful man, he was never one to go against Marlowe’s recommendation.

Though Talbot had no desire to move from his seat, having gotten quite comfortable, he knew it was necessary as the chair didn’t leave enough room for him to maneuver properly. With Marlowe’s assistance, he grunted with strain as he was slowly hefted to his feet… and thankfully no dizziness occurred. He wobbled a bit in her grasp as he found his balance, clutching her hand tightly. The pain in his leg was still intense as he took a hobbling step towards the side of the chair. Once there, he leaned over, gripping at the arm of it with one hand, so as not to put unnecessary pressure on his wounded shoulder. He knew it wouldn’t take long, so he could certainly manage. "Yes, ah… this will do just fine, Marlowe." He waited patiently for her to continue as he tilted his hips, resting all of his weight on his uninjured leg and bending his bandaged one at the knee. "Please… be gentle with me,” he joked, keeping up with the good-natured humor. They were words that he typically didn’t utter in Marlowe’s presence.

"Oh~" Marlowe gave a chuckle, not expecting Talbot's joking tone, but rather anticipating his usual pathetic whimpering. She was pleasantly surprised. Perhaps they were both getting punchy from the amount of stress they were both under. What other way was there to cope, really? "I promise," she said, her attempt at sincerity coming across as edging on sarcastic, which was often a problem she had. "This time." He was certainly wounded enough already. Marlowe took a second to glance at Talbot's bent position as she picked up the syringe and a pre-packaged disinfectant swab. Alas, she knew that Talbot wouldn't be able to stand balanced on his own like that for long, so she'd have to be quick- instead of being able to enjoy him in such a subservient position. There were certainly a lot of things she'd be able to recall fondly from this trip, once they were home licking their wounds and able to look back at this whole affair with survival colored lenses. The more awful things they'd experienced were better pushed from the mind entirely. Without further hesitation, she ripped open the the sealed alcohol pad and took a few steps to stand behind her almost naked protege once more. Without warning or asking permission, she slipped her fingers beneath the band of Talbot's boxers and pulled them down a few inches, exposing most of his buttock on his injured side. It would be easy enough, since he already had all his weight on the other leg, the muscles on his right side unclenched as he let his wounded leg relax. With the casualness of experience, Marlowe swabbed an area on the upper-right section of Talbot's bum to prepare it. Plenty of times she'd administered Talbot's medication, both intramuscular injections and pills. He could sometimes be quite the child about continuing his dosage, especially when he felt the need to prove his masculinity by refusing painkillers. Thankfully they weren't arguing that point today- neither of them could deny the pain he was in. She could only hope that this would help. Tossing the swab aside, Marlowe uncapped the now-full syringe. She gave one last look at Talbot, gauging his reaction, before proceeding.

▼

"I hate hospitals.”

Marlowe’s words were indeed true, as she had aided him on multiple occasions whenever he was in need of medical assistance. Whether it was changing bandages, giving medication, or lending a hand with simple tasks such as dressing, eating and bathing… she always helped him back on his feet when he needed her the most.

However, such scenarios most often occurred in the comfort of their own home, so watching Marlowe playing literal nurse in a hospital room was certainly something new. She played the part well. Rising to her feet, she filled the syringe as if she were a seasoned professional, and then squirted a bit of liquid from the rather lengthy needle. Talbot unintentionally winced, readjusting the blanket around his shoulders. Of course, she’d given him a handful of jabs over the years… in situations where his private doctor wasn’t readily available, or he required emergency care. Not only was she knowledgeable on the subject, but he trusted her entirely. If she thought nothing of it, then he’d attempt to do the same… though it was difficult for him to take such acts lightly. It all meant a great deal to him. Flashing back to their arduous journey across the hospital to where they were now, he also realized that she’d been through far worse… having to support his weight twice in one day, all the while being relentlessly pursued (and shot at) by their adversaries. With another brief smile that twitched at the corner of his mouth, Talbot mentally thanked her for her unyielding perseverance and strength. She seemed to be in generally good spirits, all things considered, and the fact that she continued to tease him was a good sign. He didn’t mind one bit, as it was far better than the alternative… though, he saw that her features were unusually crinkled for a fleeting moment as she set the items back down. He wondered if he looked as awful as he felt. Judging by her expression, he could venture a guess. Her reassuring smirk soon returned as Marlowe extended a hand to him, and Talbot regarded her from beneath his brow. He hesitated, confused… and then it dawned upon him where that needle was soon going to be stuck.

He should have known… "If you insist," Talbot sighed. He leaned forward in his seat and took her hand, attempting not to frown as he relinquished his warm spot beneath the blanket.

Talbot’s expression was almost too comical for her to contain herself. Marlowe bit lightly on her lower lip to stifle a chuckle that wanted to escape. She always liked to keep him on his toes, and often did try to surprise him. That look of lost confusion was always worth it. In this case, though, she was innocent- why a shot to his behind would come as a shock now was beyond her, she’d certainly announced her intentions ahead of time. "I do," Marlowe said, with a smirk. The poor thing seemed loathe to move from his newfound comfortable spot. He would be able to return to it shortly, considering the continued radio silence on their situation. Even the hallway outside seemed still, aside from the slowly oscillating hum of the unending warning sirens muted by the door. She grasped Talbot’s hand in hers, putting her other on his upper-arm to steady him, as she helped pull him to his plush-socked feet. She was ready to grab him again, if need be- hold him around the waist as she had before. Surely he would be lightheaded at least. His blood, refusing to stay where it belonged and drying in deep red drips on her leg and the tiling, had done him no favors. ”Easy~" Marlowe’s fingers curled around Talbot’s clammy palm, not letting him go. She stood there a moment, letting Talbot get his footing and to be sure he’d be able to stand. Knowing him, he might try to move instantly, and she wanted to prevent any further injury from blundering about. Once he was settled, she attempted to help him walk a few steps, just to lean down against the side of the chair he’d been sitting in. She knew it wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the medical service Talbot usually received- having a doctor to make house calls at all hours was a luxury neither of them liked going without. Unfortunately there were no silky duvets to relax in while getting a prick in the behind this time. Once they were returned home, though…

"Will this be alright…?" With her soft-spoken words, Marlowe’s eyes showed her sincere concern for him.

▼

"I hate hospitals.”

That was about as heartfelt as they’d get, as their smiles soon waned and gave way to weariness. Though he was pleased that his response had been found acceptable, he remained surprised that she’d been so talkative over the course of the last few minutes, as she typically preferred silence in such close quarters. Earlier in the day, while he had been resting in his hospital room, Marlowe had barely spoken at all.

There was a companionable pause, and Marlowe refocused her attention to the pile of items she’d procured. It was almost as if their prior conversation hadn’t occurred as she simply moved forward… the air already cleared of any quiet admissions or concerned inquiries. Talbot was enjoying the warmth that was brought to his shoulders by the blanket, as he finally regained some sensation in his arms. When she spoke again, it drew his attention to the package in Marlowe’s grasp, and he realized after a moment of staring that she was holding a syringe. While some might fear such a sight, Talbot didn’t react. Her thoughts had been correct, as they always were. He was in a great deal of pain, barely managing an unaffected front for her sake. The effects of the heavy medication that he was given post-surgery had long worn off… and he had to admit the timing was ideal. In their current predicament, there was no knowing when they’d have another opportunity to administer drugs, or when they’d have access to them again. Furthermore, he wasn’t certain how long he could carry on without their aid. "I wouldn’t mind," said Talbot. Despite his best efforts, he always felt bashful when asking things of her. "I mean, as long as it’s not too much trouble."

Talbot marveled at her ability to know precisely what he needed at any given time. He just hoped it wouldn’t be asking for too much.

"Don't be ridiculous," Marlowe said with a scoff, popping off the plastic cover on the syringe and exposing the needle. Of course, it went without saying that the real trouble wasn't Talbot or his needs, but those that wanted to harm them in the first place. If only their artifact excursion hadn't been interrupted, they could have completed their mission, retired back to their tents and spent the evening in a much different manner. "I'm always willing to lend a hand, Talbot... especially when your medical care is involved." Her eyes flicked over to glance at him for a moment, scrutinizing his expression, before looking back at what she was doing. "You know that." It certainly wasn't the first time that Marlowe had helped administer drugs to her protege, whether from his own negligence or inability due to a wounded state. Marlowe's knees were starting to hurt from kneeling on the hard tiled flooring, so she stood, picking up the vial of codeine as she did so. She held the glass jar between her fingers and stuck the top of it, drawing an ample amount of the fluid into the body of the syringe. "Besides, I practically carried you here. Comparatively, this is nothing," she said lightly, amusement in her voice. Even as Talbot sat there, pale and weak, she couldn't resist but tease him a little. There was something to be said for keeping the mood light, even in a dire situation. Contrary to what her tone implied, Marlowe certainly hadn't minded being used as a crutch for Talbot. Had it been anyone else, they would have been left to hobble along on their own. She had only been frustrated at herself that her strength wasn't what it used to be. She would not have balked to fully carry him, were she able. Watching the needle's tip as she held it upright, Marlowe squeezed a few drops of the liquid out to be sure there was no air in the syringe. Satisfied, she replaced the cap and set it and the vial down on the seat of the chair once more.

Looking at Talbot once more, her brows furrowed at his sorry state. It would almost be precious the way he was cozied-up in the hospital blanket, were it not for the dark rings around his tired eyes, and the drying blood spattering his leg. She didn't want to him to see her worrying, so she forced a smirk.

"It'll only take a moment," she said, extending her hand palm up, in order to help Talbot to his feet.