poly_chromatic | (no subject)

Entry tags:

reservoir dogs - mr. pink

(no subject)

Fuck!

[The sound of whimpering, he's not crying, or screaming, damn it, he's just fallen in the middle of the street. All he wanted was a coffee.]

I'm dying.

I'm fucking dying.

[And still trying to crawl to the hospital.]

[ooc: victim of a certain rat's gutshot. Thanks Freddy.]

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[He's finally decided to make his way to the hospital. The wounds he's received are bad, and starting to concern him. And then he sees Mr. Pink.]

What the fuck happened to you?

[Seriously. Seriously, Jimmy?]

I'm fucking dying - a little help, here!

[Oh shit.]

I don't think you're actually dyin'.

[A pause and a sigh as he considers his own wounds, including some nasty ones on his neck.]

Ya want help gettin' to the hospital?

[Oh my god are you an idiot, is what Pink is thinking]

Fuck - yes!

[Fuck you. This is all your fault.]

[HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE BEEN SHOT IN THE GUT BEFORE IT CAN'T BE JUST FREDDY.]

You got help?

Someone got me to a hospital before I fucking bled out on the street.

Cool I guess you're gonna be okay.

[So he's off the hook and stuff!!]

I'm on enough morphine to knock out a fucking elephant.

Hey.

Hey.

Are you going to visit?

[Oh no is this a trick.]

...How long are you gonna be there?

How should I fucking know? Until they kick me out I guess. Or if this closes up by midnight.

[Holy fucking shit.]

You'll pull through, buddy boy.

[Someone tell him the weasel got help.]

[Oh, hey, a little while later. Like a few hours. He sounds high as a kite]

Mr. White?

[Heh.]

So much fucking morphine.

Yeah. It's me.

[At first he's worried, very worried. Pink is an annoying son of a bitch and probably the last man he'd put in much thought for but to think that anybody in all the City with all the heroic and Pollyanna types would pass him by is heartbreaking.

Except he's on morphine so he's fine.]

Sounds like that's a great place to be.