#collectedbounty

[aladyonce-blog]

@collectedbounty / from here!

     tardif’s four-sheets to the wind and counting and audrey doesn’t envy him the hangover he’ll be facing once he dries out. she’s had her fair share of bad-nights-and-worse-mornings, so she sits and nurses her drink with a bit more care.

      he’s got a point on the first half of his answer -- they’re not hired for their livability, they’re hired because they get the job done while they can. as for the second half. . .

          “ i hope it’s soon. i’m sick of sitting around this place for this long. makes me nervous. ” it’s evident in the way she fidgets and shifts in her seat every few moments, boot tapping against the ground in a staccato rhythm.

[wiickedsliice-archive]

@collectedbounty​ [x]

...sounds like a good start. Dismas raised an eyebrow at those annoyed comments, reacting with nothing but a loud groan. Out of all the people he had to deal with, why a goddamn bounty hunter?! He was sure there were plenty of adventurers who would’ve loved to sell their life for a quick buck...!

“I’m not crazy ‘bout this either, but at least I don’t complain like a toddler.” he snaps back, crossing his arms. He dealt with people far bigger and aggressive than this guy in the past, a quick reminder that he isn’t the type who hides with his tail between his legs at any threat wouldn’t hurt “'n I dunno ye, but I’d much rather come back wit’ all my limbs intact, for a change. Unforunately, we have more chances o’ survival together, so I’m sure even someone like ye could understand my point.”

[openveined]

‘ my kind of justice, not yours. ’

Dismas barely spares a glance up towards the faceless hunter. He swirls his ale idly, preferring it to answering the other immediately.  Justice.

He’s never heard the word used in a graceful context. It involves bloodshed, always. He huffs, takes a drink.  “Bold of you to assume I’ve got any sort of justice to start with, mh?”

[openveined]

“yeah, flesh wound.” ~<3

@collectedbounty

Dismas sighs, the breath through his teeth stressed and concerned. A flesh wound. That’s better than a mortal would, at least. He helps the hunter out of his gambeson and sits him down on the bunk. It’s a wound alright. Bleeding into his undershirt, red and ugly. 

Too deep for comfort. 

He sighs, touching the cloth beside his wound. He’d have to get water, at least. Maybe see if he can nick some herbs and bandages from the provisions storage. 

“You should really go see Junia about this, or the ward. It’s not fatal but if it gets infected it might be.”