{Misery Business} {saintsdevilsandrebels}
In a back alleyway, a man sat propped up against the wall. His blond hair was plastered flat to his head from the pouring rain, and his clothes were soaked through. He looked down at himself, and shuddered. He'd been shot twice through one thigh, bullets aimed to disable, not kill. He hadn't felt the pain at first, but his leg had buckled under him immediately and he collapsed to the ground. He was bleeding profusely, but it was difficult to tell exactly how quickly-- the blood and rainwater mixed together and pooled on the ground where he sat. He didn't know how long he sat there, drifting in and out of consciousness, before he heard footsteps approaching. With effort, he opened his eyes and blinked blearily as he tried to make out the figure coming towards him. He thought for a moment that she looked familiar, but perhaps it was just the blood loss and wishful thinking addling his brain. Any stranger was more likely to kill him out of malice or mercy than to help him, or at the very least, an ordinary civilian would leave him there to die. "Come to take me away, angel?" he called weakly.
