week 6 - friday after murders
Jul. 15th, 2016 10:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
refactor[ With all the excitement said and done, Jack had grabbed what he had actually gone to the medical bay to get and bid everyone adieu. At least, metaphorically speaking. It was really much more like a "fuck off and leave me alone," but for once, his foul mood isn't completely unfair.
He hadn't been kidding when he had said it wasn't the first time he had gotten stabbed, but that doesn't exactly make it any more fun. Jack is the type of person to put on a big show when he's actually bleeding, when the knife is still in his gut, but later? Later is when he pisses and moans about it without end. The fact that in the process of this he'd lost his mask only made things worse. It was purely aesthetic and he objectively knows that, but he still can't help but feel incredibly exposed without it. And not in the good, sexy way.
As such, once he had grabbed his tools, he had immediately left the medbay to head towards his room to patch himself up, but each step was a painful jab in his side. He'd opened the damn thing back up like an idiot this morning after all the trouble of trying to roughly bandage it, so he guess he did deserve this. But still. It sucks. And eventually, it sucks enough that he gives up on making it to his room.
The parlor ends up being closer, so Jack heads inside to take a seat somewhere where he's liable to not bleed all over the place. That, and unless someone really did steal all the booze and not return it, it also has alcohol, which will be a very basic, but blissful painkiller. He'll pour himself a tall glass of whatever is the strongest and take a seat, because this isn't exactly going to be fun. He takes off his shirt, then goes through the process of threading the surgical needle, though when he actually looks down at the wound— Okay. It's fine. Totally fine.
At least, until he starts to actually stitch it closed. At that point, anyone that might be wandering by is liable to hear Jack before they even get to the door. ]
Son of a taint!
He hadn't been kidding when he had said it wasn't the first time he had gotten stabbed, but that doesn't exactly make it any more fun. Jack is the type of person to put on a big show when he's actually bleeding, when the knife is still in his gut, but later? Later is when he pisses and moans about it without end. The fact that in the process of this he'd lost his mask only made things worse. It was purely aesthetic and he objectively knows that, but he still can't help but feel incredibly exposed without it. And not in the good, sexy way.
As such, once he had grabbed his tools, he had immediately left the medbay to head towards his room to patch himself up, but each step was a painful jab in his side. He'd opened the damn thing back up like an idiot this morning after all the trouble of trying to roughly bandage it, so he guess he did deserve this. But still. It sucks. And eventually, it sucks enough that he gives up on making it to his room.
The parlor ends up being closer, so Jack heads inside to take a seat somewhere where he's liable to not bleed all over the place. That, and unless someone really did steal all the booze and not return it, it also has alcohol, which will be a very basic, but blissful painkiller. He'll pour himself a tall glass of whatever is the strongest and take a seat, because this isn't exactly going to be fun. He takes off his shirt, then goes through the process of threading the surgical needle, though when he actually looks down at the wound— Okay. It's fine. Totally fine.
At least, until he starts to actually stitch it closed. At that point, anyone that might be wandering by is liable to hear Jack before they even get to the door. ]
Son of a taint!
no subject
Date: 2016-07-16 04:33 am (UTC)She's use to dealing with "monsters" at this point, so Jack has a good chance of not fazing Elizabeth at all when he's without his mask. But, for now, she requested people to leave her to mourn, to take time soaking in his last moments sshe held for him.
Elizabeth's off in a corner, sitting with her knees brought to her face and her position nearly fetal if she wasn't sitting up. Her eyes peer up, her eyes puffy and face flushed. She didn't bother to peer until she saw...well, his reaction and she's lowering her legs and wiping away her face. ]
Mr. Jack...? Are you - hey...!
[ Was this another murder attempt..? ]
What happened..?!
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:1/2
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:>:]
From: