Wes took his time sitting up. The smoke wafting around his nose was nauseating, but the spinning was far worse. He groaned, trying to massage away all the dizzying colors from his vision. “Ugh, ffffuck...,” was what he thought he was saying. The shellshock wasn’t letting him hear much of anything beyond a high-pitched ringing. He sense of touch was fine, though, and right now he felt several paws walking all over him.
Tarot’s nose was the first in his face, followed quickly by Jerico’s. They took turns sniffing at him until Wes gently pushed them aside. As what was left of his hearing returned, the first thing he heard was their worried whining. Trying to settle them did nothing, so he left them to calm themselves while he assessed the damage.
Given that the old hovel was already empty and abandoned when he started, the bomb only made the place look singed. Looking at himself, on the other hand, was a far different story. From what he could make out in the broken glass on the ground, his brows had been saved thanks to his visor, but his hair was singed. That and a few cuts dotting his cheeks was the extent of the damage on his face and head. The rest of his body was far worse; he could feel shrapnel digging into him in several places, large gashes in others.
Despite all the injuries, his all-terrain coat had kept it from being much worse, and it showed. Whatever wasn’t protected by the Snag Machine looked like it had been through a shredder, with the other shoulder taking the most punishment. It was almost literally hanging together by threads.
Wes frowned. The cuts would heal (or scar), and his hair would grow back, but his coat wouldn’t stitch itself. “Man...” The nearing echo of sirens dragged Wes’ attention away from his coat and towards the door, quietly ditching the rat hole and melding back into Lumiose’s back streets. Normally, his appearance let him blend into any seedy area, but today it attracted new attention. Punks and delinquents asking if he was ok, if cops did it, if said cops were near, and so on. He tuned most of it out and kept moving, until one rather pushy guy mentioned something about going to see someone for his coat at least.
Asking for more information led him to a small apartment hidden in another corner of Lumiose. Wes wondered if this guy would even be around, but as luck would have it, he saw somebody in front of the door he was told to go to.
“Hey,” he called to the other, striding up with his Eeveelutions in tow. “I heard you can fix clothes.” He gestured to the tattered thing he was wearing now. “Y’mind takin’ a look at this?”
