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Date & Time: Backdated to after Nightcap attacks Peter!
Location: Within le city.
Characters: Peter |

perdre and Donny |

bumbles
Summary: Peter is pretty much bleeding errwhere after losing horribly in a fight! And then he runs into Donny on his return.
Warnings: BLOOD

[He keeps one hand tucked under his arm, dragging his feet with a strained breath, looking down to check just how much the blood has stained his clothes. Peter always keeps a backpack with them when he goes out hunting, and he's never been so thankful for finding his belongings as quickly as he did this night.

Where blood had been sticking to his fur it is now sticking to fabric, drying up and pressing an unpleasant warmth where the attacker's needles struck. The taste of blood also taints his mouth - drawn from the creature's arm in one desperate attempt to make it stop - makes him bring a hand up to try and wipe it from his lips, but it has sunk deep into his tongue and teeth.

He just wants this night to end. He doesn't know where to go, doesn't know who to call for. He can't explain how this happened to him without revealing too much. What had he been doing in the Outlands so late at night, all by himself?

Peter should have stayed outside. Should have remained a wolf, waited for the wounds to heal, but it was too big a risk. The city's borders are safer, now, but he can't risk roaming around them as an animal without drawing more unwanted attention. So a human man inexplicably injured in so many places wandering the streets it is.]

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( He's just changed back from Atlas as he wanders out of the building at the outskirts. It's easier to go unseen, there, to avoid the questions and confusion as to why he's in random buildings, but it's not like he can come and go from Max's place as Atlas. The first time had been risky enough, and he doesn't want to put her in a bad position, especially not with some of the contacts she is building up. The walk back through the city means he can go fishing for glass bottles, and it's on emerging from one of his dumpster dives that he first spots the figure.

When he sees Peter, first instinct is to press back into shadows. That it's Peter hasn't registered yet - he's too far off, but just watching the way this guy is moving shows something is off. He's moving, then, double checking he has all of Atlas' things in his bag before he drags the first aid kit he compiled at the clinic up a little higher, before starting to scramble out of the dumpster. ) H-hey!

( Nervous, but he wants to warn him that there's someone coming, not just take him by surprise, make sure the guy doesn't go before he can get himself, the bag of glass bottles, and his other bag out of the dumpster. Talking to people is hard, and sometimes just breathing is hard, but if someone's hurt then he has to try. ) Hey, d-do you, um, do you need--

( Well, he sure did just scramble out of a dumpster. ) Help?

[Peter jerks nervously, wide eyes locked on whoever approaches, trying to focus between the darkness and whatever light sources are available to him. He thinks he recognizes the young man, frowns between the struggle to remember his name (and how they met) and the instinct to run, pretend he was never seen. He knows it's impossible, though. Even when he returned to his room he'd have some explaining to do.]

N-no, [he breathes, voice caught in his throat by a surge of pain.] I'm fine.

[There's another exhale through his lips, swallowing.] What are you doing here?

( It's not like he doesn't know how someone moves when they're injured, and trying to hide an injury: he has experience with both these things. And Peter was nice to him on his first day, when he was even newer than he is now. ) You're h-hurt.

( It's less confronting than you're lying. If it were him, Max probably would have gone with you're full of shit, but she'd always taken him for a soft touch. Sometimes that was what people needed, people who were scared.

Oh. But, uh. He looks at the dumpster, and his bag of bottles. )

Um. R-recycling?

It's fine, I just - I just need to rest for a while.

[his hand is wet, he can feel it. The blood is making itself even more obvious now. He says nothing about the recycling, just makes an effort to arch his brows and nod.]

Sorry for interrupting you.

( His jaw sets at the sight of blood. ) I w-work-- I w-work at the um, at the clinic. I can--

( A sigh, frustrated by himself and by words and by Peter lying. )

If something h-hurt you, it c-could hurt someone else.

( Quietly insistent. This is the best he can think of, the best reason to actually admit it and get some help, because Donny has to try and get information so that Atlas can help. )

[There is silence for a long pause, Peter trying not to voice any of the pain settling in.]

It's - it was outside. In the Outlands. I don't think it will come here.

C-come on.

( Very quiet, he doesn't like being insistent with strangers, but when you work at a clinic you sometimes have to deal with difficult patients. Maybe if he pretends like he's Ashraf of Dr. McCoy handling this, instead of being Donny, he can get through this.

It's never really worked before, he's still Donny, but the guy needs to get looked at. )

[There's a pained little sigh, trembled through shaken lips, before Peter eventually gives in and gives him a small nod.]

Just don't - don't tell anyone. Can you do that?

Yep.

( Everyone has secrets, and there's an apologetic almost-smile at the corner of his mouth, as if he might have been able to reassure Peter. He's leading him towards one of the Bat's safehouses rather than the clinic, if he wants this to be private, because he is in the habit of carting a pretty impressive first aid kit around with him. )

P-Peter, right?

( Silence is awkward, but maybe it's okay when things are so complicated. The place isn't too far away. )

Yeah. [he nods again, swallowing with a little effort, following Donny's steps with his best attempt to control the pain.] We met when you - first arrived, didn't we-?

( With a little nod, as he types up a quick message to send to Max to let her know he needs to use it, that she might want to stick to other places if she goes anywhere tonight. It doesn't take long until he's at the door of the safe house, easing it open and nodding for Peter to head inside. )

Uh, I'd-- I h-have um, t-taken you to the c-clinic, but--

( Breathe. ) More p-people. So, if you w-want t-to make sure no one knows--

( This seems like the way to go. )

[Awfully considerate of you, Donny. Peter's starting to count how many ways he's lucky, considering what just happened to him.]

Thanks. I appreciate it. [and down he goes, sitting with a grimace and his hand against the wound.]

Do you know how-?

( Okay, give him one second to set down all this stuff, to get out the first aid kit, and he's pulling out a few things. )

I w-work at the um, the c-clinic.

( Just quietly, as he goes to wash his hands in the sink, water steaming, and then grabbing some gloves. ) Um.

( Okay. All right. ) I need to, uh. L-look at it?

( Gently, rather than insistent. And not just because Donny isn't very good at insistence. ) D-do you have more?

( Injuries, that is. )

[He nods, lips pressing a bit uncomfortably, before he turns and starts to fold up the hem of his shirt, uncovering his torso. There are scratches and punctures, the work of relentless needles. Most of it seems to be an infection, wounds drying up but still burning hot with pain.]

Uhm. On my arms, but - those aren't so bad.

( This is intensely uncomfortable, and frankly it'd be a lot easier if it was the clinic so it felt like the right environment for this. As it is, he is staring down some raw, painful looking wounds and exhaling slowly. )

They'll n-need to um, b-be c-- c-cleaned? And d-dressed.

( "Aren't so bad," he's heard that before. So he's going to get to work on cleaning those injuries, and we're going to pretend that it's The Right Way because this here writer keeps finding conflicting information on the Google. )

Just tell me what you want me to do. [He's a little blunt, perhaps even impatient, but he'd rather just let Donny do his work than ask about every detail. He's used to being patched up with whatever's available - Freddie would often keep a first aid kit around to treat Peter whenever he returned from his runs with a sign or two of a fight. It was never as bad as this, though. God knows how much Freddie would freak out if he saw Peter now...]

Should I just stay still-?

( He flinches at the bluntness, gaze dropped as he double checks he's got everything ready to go. )

I'm j-just g--g-going to um, to clean them.

( Repeating it over, more quietly, because he needs to run through this for his own benefit. ) Then we apply antibiotics, and d-dress them. You n-need to c-clean and re-dress them, at least once a day.

( Okay, he's got his stuff all good to go, but he still isn't looking at Peter. ) If they're infected I n-need to, um. T-to look at your arms, t-too.

( And finally he looks at Peter, sort of expectant and requesting that he just show him his damn arms, please.

But politely.

And also nervously. )

My arms. [he sniffs, nodding briefly.] Right.

[He'll need to slip off his jacket for that - he doesn't expect Donny to help, but he doesn't make much of an effort to hide the urge to flinch with the movements he has to make.]

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oops that should be Max

oops that should be Max's safehouse, not the Bat's. I did a bad.

hdu

I'm sorry sensei

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