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Date & Time: 8/27
Location: Anders' Clinic
Characters: Castiel, Anders
Summary: An angel takes a break with a mage.
Warnings: Potential feelings jam, Anders being Anders... will update.
[ The one good thing about brutal slayings was that if the victim was still able to call for aid, and aid arrived in a timely manner... whomever did the healing felt a certain sense of accomplishment after. Besides, you know, the obvious -- the remarkable turn of fortune in the injured party's favor, whose life was saved.
The bad thing? Trying to get the bloodstains off your fingers with whatever was at hand, in this case only a crumpled bit of paper that was about as absorbent as newsprint -- which is to say, not at all.
The distant sound of feathers and the low whump of air suddenly shoved out of place to accommodate the angel's form signals his arrival, Castiel's deepening frown as he all but shredded the overused paper towel over hands sticky with red up to the wrist, announcing: ]
He'll live. [ He sighs, giving up on the task of scrubbing out the stains on his hands and tossing the bit of paper into a bin. This isn't his first time witnessing someone impossibly defying the odds despite gruesome injuries, one of his many qualifications for this job... and, incidentally, this served as a convenient excuse to spend time with a rare friend at the clinic. ]
Although I suspect there may be psychological damage that will need attending to by more qualified individuals.
[ In other words, not him. ]
Location: Anders' Clinic
Characters: Castiel, Anders
Summary: An angel takes a break with a mage.
Warnings: Potential feelings jam, Anders being Anders... will update.
[ The one good thing about brutal slayings was that if the victim was still able to call for aid, and aid arrived in a timely manner... whomever did the healing felt a certain sense of accomplishment after. Besides, you know, the obvious -- the remarkable turn of fortune in the injured party's favor, whose life was saved.
The bad thing? Trying to get the bloodstains off your fingers with whatever was at hand, in this case only a crumpled bit of paper that was about as absorbent as newsprint -- which is to say, not at all.
The distant sound of feathers and the low whump of air suddenly shoved out of place to accommodate the angel's form signals his arrival, Castiel's deepening frown as he all but shredded the overused paper towel over hands sticky with red up to the wrist, announcing: ]
He'll live. [ He sighs, giving up on the task of scrubbing out the stains on his hands and tossing the bit of paper into a bin. This isn't his first time witnessing someone impossibly defying the odds despite gruesome injuries, one of his many qualifications for this job... and, incidentally, this served as a convenient excuse to spend time with a rare friend at the clinic. ]
Although I suspect there may be psychological damage that will need attending to by more qualified individuals.
[ In other words, not him. ]
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