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pixiesticks) wrote2018-12-23 05:55 pm
pixiesticks) wrote2018-12-23 05:55 pm
for kit
Rosalind is dabbing at Booker’s wound, perhaps pressing a bit too hard on it and relishing the grunt of pain under his breath.
How dare he, honestly? What a disgusting, underhanded, monstrous person. Rosalind hates him entirely.
It’s very inconvenient that Booker - Booker - was the one who jumped in front of that bullet - the bullet with her name on it. Baffling, too, if she’s honest. As annoying as it is to be human here, she doesn’t need his help. Especially since they can be revived.
And here she is, stuck taking care of the man she hates so deeply. He’s drifted off somehow, and he looks starkly young compared to the loathed face she’s used to looking at. She doesn’t understand him or pity him. But maybe Robert has been on to something with this whole thing. Perhaps it’s possible he can end it all.
She grimaces and gets on with treating the wound, ignoring his cries when she wakes him with the pain.
"Are you helping me or trying to claw out my insides?!" he pants, and she sends him a scowl.
"I’m helping you, DeWitt. Against my better judgment," she replies. "I had to remove the bullet. I could have stopped if you wanted an infection."
He doesn’t say anything after that, wincing as she sews him up.
"You’ll live," she tells him, putting her supplies back in the box. Booker drops his head back on his pillow, sighing. She pauses, looking over at him.
"Out of curiosity, why did you do it?"
Booker glances over then, shrugging. "Does it matter?"
Rosalind lets out an impatient breath of air, getting up. "In any case, we’re even. Don’t do that again."
She hears Booker protest behind her, but she keeps walking. Honestly, the nerve of him. If he thinks she’ll patch him up again, he’s an idiot. Though she can’t help but be a little interested by his behavior...
She slams the door behind her to the sound of Booker cursing, but in the end, Booker DeWitt always deserves it.
How dare he, honestly? What a disgusting, underhanded, monstrous person. Rosalind hates him entirely.
It’s very inconvenient that Booker - Booker - was the one who jumped in front of that bullet - the bullet with her name on it. Baffling, too, if she’s honest. As annoying as it is to be human here, she doesn’t need his help. Especially since they can be revived.
And here she is, stuck taking care of the man she hates so deeply. He’s drifted off somehow, and he looks starkly young compared to the loathed face she’s used to looking at. She doesn’t understand him or pity him. But maybe Robert has been on to something with this whole thing. Perhaps it’s possible he can end it all.
She grimaces and gets on with treating the wound, ignoring his cries when she wakes him with the pain.
"Are you helping me or trying to claw out my insides?!" he pants, and she sends him a scowl.
"I’m helping you, DeWitt. Against my better judgment," she replies. "I had to remove the bullet. I could have stopped if you wanted an infection."
He doesn’t say anything after that, wincing as she sews him up.
"You’ll live," she tells him, putting her supplies back in the box. Booker drops his head back on his pillow, sighing. She pauses, looking over at him.
"Out of curiosity, why did you do it?"
Booker glances over then, shrugging. "Does it matter?"
Rosalind lets out an impatient breath of air, getting up. "In any case, we’re even. Don’t do that again."
She hears Booker protest behind her, but she keeps walking. Honestly, the nerve of him. If he thinks she’ll patch him up again, he’s an idiot. Though she can’t help but be a little interested by his behavior...
She slams the door behind her to the sound of Booker cursing, but in the end, Booker DeWitt always deserves it.