☹ ✦ ♧ - all three for Doc and Glaz! :)
☹ My muse is jealous over someone else showing interest in yours.
Glaz doesn’t like the nurses. Their uniforms too flashy and their smiles just a tad too plastered when they rush through the hallways.
He never felt that dislike until he’s had a checkup with Doc, where a sweet rookie offered him whatever utensils Gustave needed with that ever shining smile. The doctor may not have noticed it, yet it caused a knit in his brow. When she asked if he needed anything, he immediately declined. Because it’s Rainbow, they should focus on their jobs and nothing else.
Hypocrite. Why is he wasting time pointing out where there’s a bruise or a blue stain, when the Spetz were known for sucking it up all the time and not bother with checkups in the first place?
He was the one wasting time, not the nurse. Even if it was just to feel those gloved fingers across his arms.
✦ My muse bandages yours due to an injury.
«Wheres the anaesthetic?!», he yelled as a hand covered Doc’s, both bloodied as he pressed it down to his abdomen. The other hand roamed frantically in his med kit, listening intently to the instructions given to him as beads of sweat contorted some of the face paint. Bullet shots in the distance.
He kept his tongue when strange words wanted to slip out of it through his storm of thoughts as an arm soon snuck over Doc’s back, lifting him up once bandaids were applied.
Glaz steadied him by gripping his arm, eventually just carrying him over his back. When Glaz was hurrying through the shattering hallways and bomb explosions to their extraction point, when he believed Gustave to be long out, he would mutter these words. They mixed with his heavy breath, creating something more desperate than he ever thought he could muster.
‘Don’t fall asleep on me now’
♧ Our muses see each other in formal wear for the first time.
He didn’t know the last time there was this much gel in his hair or black on him, neither the last time he enjoyed such a Galla, if at all. He didn’t like it all black ironically, wasn’t charming to him in spite of how well it suited his companion. Blue eyes wandered when he sees just how rich Gustave’s wardrobe must be to have shoes of such exclusive leather or gloves he could see the brand engraved in. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised. There was this much you wouldn’t expect from a native of Paris. He looks in the mirror once more, tilting his chin up, see if there were any uneven edges on his beard as he straightens up, and asks Gustave to check if he did the tie right.
He’s worn many in his life, and suddenly, found himself lazy with doing it properly now that Doc was here, even if it was just to watch those swift hands work around his neck and that mouth scold him for not ironing the suit properly.
