“UHHH, I hate to break it to you, ~bro~,” he mocked the other Rick brazenly for his choice in words, clearly not in the mood for niceties. “B-but this became ‘my businuess’ when you - when your dumb ass fucked up my operation by deciding it was a-aaaa good idea to go around giving people some kind of-of-!” He balled up his soiled jacket in frustration, lips curling back in disgust. “Of non consensual tye-dye – shhhhit! Hey!”
The arm soaked in blood reaching only inches from his face left a trail of red flecklets in its’ wake that soaked into white fabric, creating an even bigger mess. “W-what was I-I just saying a-about-?! Ah… about…”
The identical overcoat obscuring his counterparts’ wounded shoulder, heavy with clumps of sopping wet paper and the overpoweringly metallic scent of blood, fell away to reveal all. “Ohhh, jesus.”
Skin shredded to the point of horror, split open well down into the fat layer. Oozing, gruesome patterns of deliberate cuts. Too clean, too precise, too obvious.
He saw it. And the other guy knew he saw it.
The expression on Ricks’ face shifted from infuriated to confusion to… a cool, collected baseline. A mask that guarded whatever was beneath. Rage? A dark plot? Intention to finish the job?
“Attention seeker, huh?” The nature of the words sounded harsh out of his mouth, as did all things inherently Rick.
The gangly man took a step forward that effectively blocked his doppelganger into the corner, his presence overbearing and ominous. The inevitable scolding was surely imminent, sitting perched on the tip of a silver tongue. “You’re a, a fucking idiot. You - you’re reeeeal goddamn stupid, y-y-you know that?”
Ouch. That one had to sting. “I-I mean - w-what are you thinking? Huh?” He glared at the offensive bleeding appendage disapprovingly. Oh, he was about to tear into him, wasn’t he? “You - you’re never gonna stop the bleeding like that.”
That… wasn’t quite the expected reaction, that much was for sure. For all intents and purposes, Rick didn’t truly didn’t seem to carry as much aggression in his body language as much as sheer annoyance. Nonthreatening only when viewed through the eyes of somebody who could read him - somebody who was him. “Come on, dawg. Th-this is - it’s first aid 101, simple shit.”
He reached out and firmly gripped his counterparts’ wrist, ignoring any outcry of indignance that came with the invasion of personal space. The guy obviously wasn’t keen on getting called out on his… mistakes. “Sh-shut up, you’re fine, d-don’t be a pussy. Look – gotta squeeze.” The loose fabric of his alternates’ ruined coat would make for a decent binding. He balled it up, holding firm to the wounds whether the other Rick liked it or not. “Gotta hold pressure.”
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