Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

[questionablewit]

Want to tag someone? Tag someone. Put the character you want in the subject line.
Leave a starter, or leave a prompt and I'll start.
Brilliant ideas and clueless flailing all welcome.
AUs and cross-canon, drama and comedy and shipping.
Just throw stuff at me. It's all good.

Comments

[deblayer]

[The thing about a fight--particularly a fight like this, particularly a fight that falls so quickly into something utterly unanticipated in scale and damage--is that it takes the entire team's attention. The medical students needed to start a rapid triage. The law students needed to start recording. The least jangled brains needed to throw their associated bodies between the beginnings of new scraps in an effort to keep the overflow contained.

There's no way to keep proper track when things go wild. There's just the headcount as the dust begins to settle.]

Are you hurt?

[questionablewit]

[There's no response, not for hours. Nothing, not from either of them. It's not until hours later, at fuckall o'clock in the morning, that his phone pings. She's willing to bet he's not asleep. He almost never is.

how many dead/injured

[deblayer]

You first.

[Because of course he's not asleep.

And of course he's not in the mood to be particularly charming.]

[questionablewit]

[She doesn't expect charm. She doesn't expect anything.]

We'll be fine.

How many.

[deblayer]

That wasn't an answer.

[questionablewit]

He lost control and started attacking innocent people in a crowd and didn't stop until I literally beat sense back into him, yes he's hurt, but the physical injuries are the least of it, now please will you tell me how many he killed.

[deblayer]

There were four dead at the scene and about fifteen in hospital now. I couldn't say how many were him and how many were the rest of us.

Get fixed up. Both of you.

[questionablewit]

We already are, physically. You know how good a healer he is.

[Magical, even. Though Anders keeps that as quiet as he can.]

If you're still talking to us, I need a favor.

[deblayer]

What sort?

[questionablewit]

The sort where someone who isn't me or him goes to our place to bring me the belongings we don't want to have to live without, and then meets me somewhere to hand them over. Can't go back to the clinic after that.

[They lived in Anders' small, illicit, clinic. Neither one's ever been much for personal belongings, but they had a few.]

[deblayer]

If Joly can raid the supplies.

[questionablewit]

He can have everything we don't need. I'm sure you'll make good use of it.

[deblayer]

Fine.

When and where.