† 005

[mr_phale]

[There's a moment of quiet that stretches just a little too long, before Aziraphale speaks up in a rather strained tone.]

Well, this is certainly... unpleasant.

[Master of understatement.]

Er-- I think perhaps I ought to say something about the virtues of patience and endurance, but honestly, it's difficult to take that seriously at the best of times. I only hope that those of you who are able to, er, get about, are willing to aid those who aren't.

Crowley, you might bring some towels.



[ooc; fml please pretend this was earlier in the day .-. and augh backtags tomorrow. He's stuck with Dulcie's bleedy gunshot wings.]

Comments

[itsjustafruit]

Aziraphale, what have you done to yourself?

[mr_phale]

I haven't done anything. Er, the City, on the other hand...

Action

[itsjustafruit]

[Here comes Crowley with a pile of black towels.]

Now that's just crass.

Action

[mr_phale]

[The colour is a good choice, they won't have to wish any stains away. Aziraphale is sitting very carefully, his wings folded as tightly as he can manage under the circumstances. They're characteristically unkempt and bleeding sluggishly from his borrowed wounds.]

I don't like to imagine how this might have happened.

Action

[itsjustafruit]

[Tch, now he's going to have to actually tend to them.]

I presume you tried healing them? I could give it a go.

Action

[mr_phale]

No luck, I'm afraid. I can't even-- er, that is, they're stuck.

[And he's rather out of the habit of having them out; they tend to knock books off shelves and the like. It's part of why he's not going anywhere. Mostly, though, it's the bleeding bit. And moving hurts.]

Do try, if you like.

[brobeforehos]

It's the general reaction, considering the circumstances. Those who can, help - is what I mean.

[mr_phale]

That, at the least, is some small consolation.

[brobeforehos]

It's doing something, at least. Even if that just means smuggling sweets into the hospital...

[mr_phale]

Every little bit counts, I'm certain.

[brobeforehos]

What about you, sir?

[mr_phale]

Oh, I expect I'll be all right, really.

[justamessenger]

Are you okay?

[mr_phale]

I-- er. Seem to have acquired some injuries. But I expect I'll manage.

[justamessenger]

Are they bad?

[mr_phale]

Er, not... fatal, I don't expect. But I doubt I will be going anywhere until midnight.

[justamessenger]

I think they might kinda be my fault. Sorry.

[mr_phale]

Your fault?

[candothat]

Are you hurt badly?

[mr_phale]

Badly enough that I doubt I shall be much help to anyone else, but. Er, I think I will be all right on my own.

[candothat]

But are you certain? I can help.

[mr_phale]

It's-- well, I simply think it would be best if I were to avoid moving too much.

[candothat]

Yes, of course.

[About... three seconds later:]

I should maybe stop making you answer messages.

[valentineluke]

Want time off or wait and see if it passes in twenty-four hours?


(OOC - assuming he's had circus job all this time)

[mr_phale]

I'd expect, after today, I should be able to return to my duties.

[fine by me!]