poly_chromatic | 003 || [Accidental Intentional Video]

[She fumbles for the phone trying to pick it up, her hands are shaking. This is not her favorite way to wake up- Not that it's anyone's favorite way to wake up. Blood has soaked through the sheet covering her chest, its sticky uncomfortable against her skin, so she moves it to get a look. Her fingers dipping down to brush over wounds she has no memory of receiving.

Eyes lock for a moment on fingers coated with blood, she casts a quick glance down, but a sharp pain in the center of her chest is really all she needs to confirm her suspicions, she's not dreaming, that pain is too real. It makes her vision white out around the edges and forces her to drop her head back on to the pillows, huffing a few ragged breaths to keep herself from passing out.

She injured. Gravely, by judging by how erratic her heartbeat feels in her chest. It's out of rhythm and painful. Breathing is difficult... Her already bloodied hand rests over the wounds on her chest, applying pressure to the worst of the wounds peppered across it.

But none of that can be seen at the moment, the view is of the ceiling in her room. Her fingers grope along the edge of bedside table trying to find her damn phone, she needs-- ]

Ahh! Fuck..

[Hissing through clenched teeth, she curls for a moment around herself, the phone forgotten. Her hands tight fists against her chest, when she finally manages steady herself again she glances over at the table and spots the phone, and reaches out finally getting a grip on it and bringing it to her. She turns the device in her hands and smearing blood across the display. Once she has a proper grip on the phone she can finally be seen.

Deathly pale and sweaty, she looks like death warmed over and is taking shallow sips of air to keep her heart-rate down, because... it doesn’t seem to hurt as much when she doesn't let fear try to sink it's claws in her.

She fumbles the buttons, and turns the feed off. Cursing to herself for not noticing that it was already open she manages to get it turned back on, her eyes close briefly with from the relief of managing to at least establish an open line of communication. ]

I-... [Her voice is barely a wheeze, she pauses to let out another small slow breath. Yes, even in the face of possible impending death, she can still find a way to hold on to her calm resolve. Deal with it. There is no panic in her voice, yet.] I may need help.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's helpful.

[Isn't it? She hurts...But she can manage, mostly.]

Soviet. [She pants and squeezes her eyes closed a moment, she opens them again and explains a little more.] Experiments.

[She's not the first person Chekov has met here who has been damaged in some way by the Russia of three-hundred years ago.]

Sorry--and I am also sorry that there's nothing else I can do.

[Eh...Aside from these sort of issues, her enhancements haven't been that much of an issue.]

No..reason for you to be sorry. It's a curse...Not your fault.

Regardless...

[This is awkward. Just walking away seems like a rather heartless thing to do.]

Is there anything that would help? Or that you need?

Thank you.

[Of course, it's awkward, it's a curse right?]

Extra bandages. [Hang on. Breathing.]

Gauze. Water.

[Oh, right.]

Bandages, gauze, water--good, yes.

[He has the first two on hand; the third requires a trip to the kitchen. And he would offer to help bandage her up, but, considering the location of the injuries, that seems unwise.]

Anything else?

Edited (html fail) 2012-11-20 17:30 (UTC)

[She takes the she supplies and sits up pushing back to lean against the headboard. Pulling away the towel she placed against the wounds after he'd looked at it to begin bandaging the wounds.

Hope you don't mind, because she doesn't seem to.]

I'd ask you to keep.. [She bites back a curse.] people away, but... sentry duty seems a misuse of your company.

[No, no. Go right ahead.]

Would you like help with that...?

Is there someone specific you would like to not see you?

Edited 2012-11-21 00:57 (UTC)

[Good.]

I can handle this...if you keep me steady.

No. [Well, probably Barton, but if Clint wants in he's going to get in.] No one specific.

Yes, of course.

[He'll just... move over there.]

If you would like me to discourage company, I can do that.

[Just a hand on her back will do, to be sure that she doesn't fall should she pass out. Because that's still a possibility.

Sitting up has all the color drained from her face, sallow and sweaty, she runs a shaky hand through her hair to push it from her face.

She's too stubborn to let anyone help her. She can do this on her own. When she's done she grips his arm, possibly a bit too tight, and sinks back down the bed.]

That... actually, that may be for the best.

[Once Natasha is successfully situated--without fainting or causing any injury to Chekov, fortunately--he retreats in the general direction of the door.]

I will do that. Rest? Perhaps keep speaking to a minimum?

[When she's not suffering through pain she can't do anything about she will apologize.]

I will.

Thank you.

[And he will camp out in her living room for as long as is necessary.]

003 || [Accidental Intentional Video]

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