Only because your dad will blow a gasket if something actually bad happens to you down here, like it wasn't his idea to ship you here in the first place.
[ Which is not entirely untrue, but some part of him still feels like he should have been a bit more helpful instead of throwing Rufus straight to the proverbial wolves. He fared well, all things considered, but that could have gone so much worse. ]
But you're the boss. Go on, walk it off and collect your gil. I won't stop you.
My father might show some concern if I had died, but he won’t so much as blink if he learns about a flesh wound. So stop worrying.
[Though most wouldn’t consider Rufus’ injury a mere flesh wound, that’s about as serious as he wishes to treat it for now. Stubbornness has him walking past Alec, back down the way they came, with the expectation that he follow.]
Come on.
[And to his credit, he moves without incident. Ignoring his shoulder, squeezing past the crowded alleyways and over fallen debris, Rufus’ gait is misleading — it implies that he might be just fine until they pick up the reward and that a little healing magic is all it’ll take to patch him up afterward, easy as you please.
It’s not until they’re a handful of yards away from the entrance gate — the two men still stationed there —that he has to stop, grimacing, the pain suddenly sharp and shooting. It feels like someone had flipped a switch, and whatever force was deadening his nerves up until now was banished. The soreness and pain seep in, envelop him, and he finds himself gripping his shoulder, stopping and leaning against the frame of an old, rusted car long abandoned.]
[ Alec already said he wouldn't stop Rufus, and he doesn't. To Junior's credit, he nearly makes it, but all the while, Alec stays a handful of paces behind, eyes on the bloodied gash in Rufus' shoulder and the man himself. Adrenaline is a hell of a thing, and Alec knows it well - he also knows what it feels like when it's gone, and all the aches and scrapes and mistakes of the previous battle suddenly make themselves known.
Sometimes he can grit his teeth and bear it, sometimes he can't.
This must be one of those "can't" times. Pain tenses Rufus' entire frame, and he seeks out the first thing he can for support. Alec closes the gap between them, moving to Rufus' injured side to try again to peer at the wound. ]
Worse than you thought, eh chief?
[ Alec hadn't been prepared for a jaunt into the more wild part of the slums, his little stock of potions and other first aid items left behind at home in favor of a change of clothes. Now he knows better. ]
[The way it’s spoken, roughly through gritted teeth, might actually inform Alec that, no, he’s not fine. The pain in his shoulder is like someone’s stuck a knife into it, and every time it so much as moves, that same blade might as well be twisting. The rest of his body is sending its unwanted alarms careening through him, too — bruises where he’d collided into Alec, or where the largest of the drakes gripped talons into his ankle, the tips puncturing skin. That isn’t accounting for the sore muscles that’ll complain tomorrow, after having been twisted to and fro mid-air like a rag doll.
But yeah. He’s fine.
He pushes himself off the car, hand pressing into his shoulder this time, forcing his walk to the gate. The men, obviously worried upon seeing the man who had passed not that long ago returning bloodied, frown when they see them. One of them pipes up again.
Hey! Your friend looks like he could use a hand! We told you those drakes were nasty business!]
[ Alec got off lucky, with a cushion of magic to fall back on, but Rufus is only human. That gash in his shoulder may be the worst of it, but he was also tossed around like a rag doll. If the rest of his body isn't complaining then Alec will be very surprised indeed.
Rufus pushes past him, and Alec turns to catch up, only to jog ahead when they catch the attention of the men at the gate. ]
Now they're very much dead business, thanks. [ And he's not my friend, sits on the tip of his tongue, but now is really not the time. ] You got somewhere we can go to get him patched up?
[The man nods, expression well-worn with concern, and points down the street in the southern direction.
We’ve got our own little outpost set up there, just under the awning of the third building down. It’s not much, but there’s a first aid kit with a few supplies in it that should be good… You’re not the first person to come back bruised and bloodied after a stint with angry monsters, you know.
Rufus, meanwhile, does not appreciate being spoken about like he’s not there. To Alec, irritated with pain and impatience both—]
You can patch me up, but we’re not lingering.
[The second guard pipes in, thinking it reasonable to say, You need some materia? I’ve got a healing one you can borrow, ’s long as you bring it back before you go.]
[ Alec flashes the man a small smile, something commiserative, and nods his head in thanks, all while handily ignoring Rufus. Thankfully, he knows his way around a first aid kit (not sure what that says about his lifestyle, really), and he'll have Rufus patched up in no time.
But then the second guy has to go and offer him materia. It's a nice gesture, if a bit stupid to offer to a total stranger. He waves him off with a shake of his head. ]
Hate to say it man, but I'm useless with magic. Thanks for the offer.
[ Whether or not this guy has anything to say about it, Alec doesn't linger to find out. He breezes through the gate, pausing only long enough for Rufus to catch up, before heading to the little outpost. ]
[A reasonable man would maybe pause and give more consideration to that offer of magic than Alec, because a Cure materia in the hands of the right person would staunch the eking flow of blood faster and more efficiently than a first-aid kit. But Rufus is tied up by his pride, not caring for excess aid if he can get by with the bare minimum. Alec is that bare minimum, apparently, and Rufus doesn’t say or do anything more than follow, waving the guard aside as if to decline his offer.
He doesn’t miss Alec’s admission of being poor with magic, but he isn’t inclined to question it, having no real reason to. Rufus follows, pushing his pace to save face, ice-eyes fixed ahead, too stubborn to fall too far behind, and too unwilling to accept the fact that the other man is probably slowing his step for his sake.]
So was this the day you were expecting to— [He bites back a wince.] —have? I’m nothing if not exciting.
[ Alec doesn't need this kind of excitement in his life. That's why he's happy to do most of his work behind a monitor and pass the information off to other people who will use it to get themselves or someone else in deep shit. After he does a job, it's usually out of his hands from there - until Rufus decided to drag him back into one that was long over from his perspective.
Once they reach their destination, the first aid kit is easy enough to spot, being a big red metal box and all, and Alec motions Rufus to a well-worn stool nearby. ]
Sit your ass down and take your shirt off so we can get this over with and get home.
dusts this off...no obligation to continue if you don't wanna!
[He's almost too tired to balk against the command. Almost. Maybe Rufus stands just a moment too long, a hair too delayed, before the pain shooting through his nerve-endings informs him to play the part of nice, congenial patient. He finds himself seated on a rickety old stool with unbalanced legs, and he begins the slow process of removing shirt by pulling it up over his head.
Hard to do, really, when you're sporting a still-oozing wound. Give him a slow, methodical moment.]
You should work on your bedside- [wince] -manner, "doctor.
[ Alec is too busy rummaging through the first aid kit, fishing out gauze and bandages and sterile wipes, to witness the last stand of Rufus Shinra’s pride. Just as well because Alec would have most assuredly given him shit about it.
On the upside - as far as Rufus’ attempts to disrobe are concerned - the shirt is already slashed open, and the simple material tears even further as he tries to remove it. It makes the process easier, at least, even if it renders Alec’s poor shirt entirely unsalvageable. ]
Only if you work on your everything manner, Reeve.
[ Alec spares the ruined remains of his clothes a quick glance, but doesn’t remark on it. Instead, he simply moves behind Rufus, an alcohol-soaked pad in hand. ]
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finalflight2020-04-22 12:49 pm
no subject
[ Which is not entirely untrue, but some part of him still feels like he should have been a bit more helpful instead of throwing Rufus straight to the proverbial wolves. He fared well, all things considered, but that could have gone so much worse. ]
But you're the boss. Go on, walk it off and collect your gil. I won't stop you.
no subject
[Though most wouldn’t consider Rufus’ injury a mere flesh wound, that’s about as serious as he wishes to treat it for now. Stubbornness has him walking past Alec, back down the way they came, with the expectation that he follow.]
Come on.
[And to his credit, he moves without incident. Ignoring his shoulder, squeezing past the crowded alleyways and over fallen debris, Rufus’ gait is misleading — it implies that he might be just fine until they pick up the reward and that a little healing magic is all it’ll take to patch him up afterward, easy as you please.
It’s not until they’re a handful of yards away from the entrance gate — the two men still stationed there —that he has to stop, grimacing, the pain suddenly sharp and shooting. It feels like someone had flipped a switch, and whatever force was deadening his nerves up until now was banished. The soreness and pain seep in, envelop him, and he finds himself gripping his shoulder, stopping and leaning against the frame of an old, rusted car long abandoned.]
Shit.
no subject
Sometimes he can grit his teeth and bear it, sometimes he can't.
This must be one of those "can't" times. Pain tenses Rufus' entire frame, and he seeks out the first thing he can for support. Alec closes the gap between them, moving to Rufus' injured side to try again to peer at the wound. ]
Worse than you thought, eh chief?
[ Alec hadn't been prepared for a jaunt into the more wild part of the slums, his little stock of potions and other first aid items left behind at home in favor of a change of clothes. Now he knows better. ]
Can you make it? We're almost home free.
no subject
[The way it’s spoken, roughly through gritted teeth, might actually inform Alec that, no, he’s not fine. The pain in his shoulder is like someone’s stuck a knife into it, and every time it so much as moves, that same blade might as well be twisting. The rest of his body is sending its unwanted alarms careening through him, too — bruises where he’d collided into Alec, or where the largest of the drakes gripped talons into his ankle, the tips puncturing skin. That isn’t accounting for the sore muscles that’ll complain tomorrow, after having been twisted to and fro mid-air like a rag doll.
But yeah. He’s fine.
He pushes himself off the car, hand pressing into his shoulder this time, forcing his walk to the gate. The men, obviously worried upon seeing the man who had passed not that long ago returning bloodied, frown when they see them. One of them pipes up again.
Hey! Your friend looks like he could use a hand! We told you those drakes were nasty business!]
no subject
[ Alec got off lucky, with a cushion of magic to fall back on, but Rufus is only human. That gash in his shoulder may be the worst of it, but he was also tossed around like a rag doll. If the rest of his body isn't complaining then Alec will be very surprised indeed.
Rufus pushes past him, and Alec turns to catch up, only to jog ahead when they catch the attention of the men at the gate. ]
Now they're very much dead business, thanks. [ And he's not my friend, sits on the tip of his tongue, but now is really not the time. ] You got somewhere we can go to get him patched up?
no subject
We’ve got our own little outpost set up there, just under the awning of the third building down. It’s not much, but there’s a first aid kit with a few supplies in it that should be good… You’re not the first person to come back bruised and bloodied after a stint with angry monsters, you know.
Rufus, meanwhile, does not appreciate being spoken about like he’s not there. To Alec, irritated with pain and impatience both—]
You can patch me up, but we’re not lingering.
[The second guard pipes in, thinking it reasonable to say, You need some materia? I’ve got a healing one you can borrow, ’s long as you bring it back before you go.]
no subject
[ Alec flashes the man a small smile, something commiserative, and nods his head in thanks, all while handily ignoring Rufus. Thankfully, he knows his way around a first aid kit (not sure what that says about his lifestyle, really), and he'll have Rufus patched up in no time.
But then the second guy has to go and offer him materia. It's a nice gesture, if a bit stupid to offer to a total stranger. He waves him off with a shake of his head. ]
Hate to say it man, but I'm useless with magic. Thanks for the offer.
[ Whether or not this guy has anything to say about it, Alec doesn't linger to find out. He breezes through the gate, pausing only long enough for Rufus to catch up, before heading to the little outpost. ]
You holding up okay, junior?
no subject
He doesn’t miss Alec’s admission of being poor with magic, but he isn’t inclined to question it, having no real reason to. Rufus follows, pushing his pace to save face, ice-eyes fixed ahead, too stubborn to fall too far behind, and too unwilling to accept the fact that the other man is probably slowing his step for his sake.]
So was this the day you were expecting to— [He bites back a wince.] —have? I’m nothing if not exciting.
no subject
[ Alec doesn't need this kind of excitement in his life. That's why he's happy to do most of his work behind a monitor and pass the information off to other people who will use it to get themselves or someone else in deep shit. After he does a job, it's usually out of his hands from there - until Rufus decided to drag him back into one that was long over from his perspective.
Once they reach their destination, the first aid kit is easy enough to spot, being a big red metal box and all, and Alec motions Rufus to a well-worn stool nearby. ]
Sit your ass down and take your shirt off so we can get this over with and get home.
dusts this off...no obligation to continue if you don't wanna!
Hard to do, really, when you're sporting a still-oozing wound. Give him a slow, methodical moment.]
You should work on your bedside- [wince] -manner, "doctor.
no subject
On the upside - as far as Rufus’ attempts to disrobe are concerned - the shirt is already slashed open, and the simple material tears even further as he tries to remove it. It makes the process easier, at least, even if it renders Alec’s poor shirt entirely unsalvageable. ]
Only if you work on your everything manner, Reeve.
[ Alec spares the ruined remains of his clothes a quick glance, but doesn’t remark on it. Instead, he simply moves behind Rufus, an alcohol-soaked pad in hand. ]
This is gonna sting.
[ That’s all the warning he’s going to get. ]