“Need Help Finding A Book?”

Dwight says it as pleasantly as he can, despite the man lying down in front of him. Of course he recognized that uniform, anyone else might’ve left Cicero out to die. There was no reason for Dwight to stick his neck out for someone like Cicero and yet, here he was.

He might’ve guessed that the supposed man wasn’t friendly to Cicero. If Dwight had to guess, there was a scuffle that went wrong but Cicero must’ve managed to escape with his horrible injuries. Why would the man let Cicero live? Unless their own injuries discouraged from pursing Cicero.

“I…I won’t.” Dwight says quietly. “I mean…I hope he doesn’t come around then…”

It wasn’t Dwight’s place to get in between these scuffles, he had bigger problems on his plate, but if the man did come scooping around for any sight of Cicero,!)3 could see problems arising fast.

And the missing body only made things all the more complicated.

"My knife." His hand shakily opens, expecting Dwight to hand it back to him.

After all, she didn't exactly look all that capable. He needed to be ready to defend himself if need be. And that was his lucky knife.

".... Sorry. About earlier."

The way he says it is quiet, genuine almost. But his hand flexes, betraying his intention to the keenest of eyes. He wants the knife back, the knife he just threatened her with not moments ago. And he's willing to be meek in order to get what he wants.

"I am in your debt. Is it just you here? By your lonesome?"

"You're not really in any condition to wield this are you? Let’s focus on feeling better first.”

Dwight sets the knife back down, not far out of reach of Cicero but not directly in his hand. Just enough that Dwight hopes it will discourage usage. The last thing Dwight needs is Cicero getting spooked and opening up his wounds again.

"You woke up with a stranger all beaten up, I don't exactly blame you." Dwight eyes his own weapon, a simple pistol over by his bedroll. "If I was in your shoes, I might've done the same thing."

Dwight’s face scrunches slightly in confusion. He thinks back to how he found Cicero, covered in blood. Was all of it his? There was the possibility some of it could’ve been someone else’s. He thinks hard, trying to see if he could picture someone else with Cicero.

“I don’t recall seeing another man out there.” Dwight explains. “Was he a friend of yours? Is it possible he’s out there hurt?” He suddenly sounds very concerned.

“I’m so very sorry….when I found you, I didn’t see anyone else.”

"Fuck..." He groans quietly at the confirmation of his suspicions. The NCR man was wounded, Cicero knew that for certain. Now, whether or not he would fall to those wounds, he couldn't determine. What he did know, however, was that if he didn't... and he recovered swifter than Cicero did...

He was fucked. Undoubtedly fucked.

The mention of a name. His name. What is he called?

It wasn't as though she didn't know he was Legion. He was wearing his uniform. Yet, she tended to him anyway. A soft and bleeding heart. Would it be her undoing?

"...... Cicero."

He says it flippantly, as though it were of no consequence. It wasn't relevant to her, not in the slightest. So soon as he could move, he was gonna be out of here.

"Not a friend. NCR. Should he come snooping around- it would not end well." And what consequence is that to her?

He does his best to open those sharp eyes, looking to her as pathetically as he can muster. Appealing.

Dwight says it as pleasantly as he can, despite the man lying down in front of him. Of course he recognized that uniform, anyone else might’ve left Cicero out to die. There was no reason for Dwight to stick his neck out for someone like Cicero and yet, here he was.

He might’ve guessed that the supposed man wasn’t friendly to Cicero. If Dwight had to guess, there was a scuffle that went wrong but Cicero must’ve managed to escape with his horrible injuries. Why would the man let Cicero live? Unless their own injuries discouraged from pursing Cicero.

“I…I won’t.” Dwight says quietly. “I mean…I hope he doesn’t come around then…”

It wasn’t Dwight’s place to get in between these scuffles, he had bigger problems on his plate, but if the man did come scooping around for any sight of Cicero,!)3 could see problems arising fast.

“I couldn’t possibly leave you alone out there to die, now could I?” Dwight says with a tiny sigh. Mercy and compassion were a virtue, but sometimes it felt dangerous. The world was rough and rather nasty, it was a miracle that Cicero didn’t try to stabbing him when he first woke up. Or at least, he decided to hear Dwight out long enough to give up fighting.

The missing man. The man who hadn't been with the rest of the squad when Cicero slit their throats in the night. He was cocky- so sure that he'd gotten all of them. Only to be-?

He groans quietly, brows knitting together in pain and frustration.

Tired. Yes, he was tired. The mention of food has his stomach churn uncomfortably. His current state making any aspect of chewing and swallowing anything seem an impossible task. Besides... there was something a bit more important at the forefront of his mind.

"The man-" He murmurs, eyes closing as he tries to focus, dry lips peeling apart as he speaks.

"There was another man. Where is he? Dead?"

Dwight’s face scrunches slightly in confusion. He thinks back to how he found Cicero, covered in blood. Was all of it his? There was the possibility some of it could’ve been someone else’s. He thinks hard, trying to see if he could picture someone else with Cicero.

“I don’t recall seeing another man out there.” Dwight explains. “Was he a friend of yours? Is it possible he’s out there hurt?” He suddenly sounds very concerned.

“I’m so very sorry….when I found you, I didn’t see anyone else.”

           -> or just prompts for first meeting AUs!

[Kidnapped] - A and B are total strangers with nothing in common, except this: they are both in the trunk of a car, with their wrists tied together, back to back, and probably an injury or two. (or they wake up in a room together? feel free to alter as needed)

[Woods] - A is camping somewhere. B is camping nearby. Somebody wants A dead, and they’re camping in the woods, too. (‘Hi nice to meet you sorry to say this but I’m being hunted and if they find you you’ll definitely be killed so we need to go now.’)

[Woods x 2] - A is camping somewhere. B is bloody and bruised and maybe running on adrenaline, but they have just escaped from a place they were being held (or maybe they’ve just been lost, for days?), and they’re stumbling blind through the woods. B stumbles on A’s campsite.

[Alley] - A is trying to get home late at night, but is being harassed (even abused?) in an alley by the villains of our story. B happens to be walking by.

[Undercover] - A is an undercover cop, or a reluctant gang member. B is a trafficking victim. Our story isn’t A saves B - our story is A needs to work with B to find an opportunity to free the rest, and A is sorry, and it’s dangerous, but A needs B’s help anyway.

[Disaster] - A and B are in a natural (or manmade) disaster/emergency situation together. A traffic accident, a flood, fires, the like. They’ve never met before, but they need to work together, either to get themselves out safely or to help others get to safety (or both).

[Flowershop]  - A works in a flowershop to cover a shift for a friend who needed to go out of town for something. B either needs flowers or is the recipient of flowers (a thank you, etc) which A delivers.

[Neighbours] - A and B are neighbours, because A recently moved in/moved to town/etc. Their first meeting is neighbourly - maybe to borrow a cup of sugar, to say hello and meet the neighbours, or let them know they can definitely hear them having sex, please put the bedhead against the other wall.

[Allergies] - A is anaphylactic-allergic to something. B happens to know how to use an adrenaline auto-injector (EpiPen). (Alternatively: they don’t know how to use one, and accidentally inject themselves, instead of their patient. Don’t put your thumb over the end, folks.)

[Property] - A has been burgled, and is sad to have lost (important item/items). B finds the item, alongside A’s emptied-out wallet, which happens to have A’s address. They swing by to return the lost items.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Dwight soothes, pleading for the other to understand.

Once the wound is clean, Dwight fetches for the rest of his medical items to successfully close and dress it. For a shaky little guy, he manages to calm his hands long enough to able to close the wound. When everything is over, Dwight backs away slightly, hands still in sight to show he’s not a threat.

Sorrys are murmured, the pity tasting sour on his tongue. Or perhaps that was just the acidic regurgitation threatening to fill the back of his throat.

Steady hands seem to mend what he'd ruined in his struggle and threats. And Cicero was worse off now than he would've been had he just played along and been a good dog.

His breathing levels out now that he isn't trying to fight nor is he in incredible amounts of pain from 'treatment'.

Foggy grey eyes peek a bit at the other, though he struggles to keep them open from how tired he is.

“I couldn’t possibly leave you alone out there to die, now could I?” Dwight says with a tiny sigh. Mercy and compassion were a virtue, but sometimes it felt dangerous. The world was rough and rather nasty, it was a miracle that Cicero didn’t try to stabbing him when he first woke up. Or at least, he decided to hear Dwight out long enough to give up fighting.

𝟶𝟷. sender sets a church on fire with the receiver still inside. 𝟶𝟸. sender presses a holy symbol into the receiver's flesh, burning them. 𝟶𝟹. sender declares themselves god to the receiver. 𝟶𝟺. sender begs the receiver for a blessing/prayer before night falls. 𝟶𝟻. sender licks their lips and tells the receiver to confess their sins. 𝟶𝟼. sender takes refuge from a storm with the receiver in an abandoned church. 𝟶𝟽. sender snarls at the receiver, unable to cross the threshold/onto holy ground. 𝟶𝟾. sender laughs, breaking a seal, ward, etc. set by the receiver to keep them out. 𝟶𝟿. sender recites a prayer with the receiver as the shadows darken and writhe. 𝟷𝟶. sender burns the receiver's holy oath away as they pledge themselves to the sender instead.

Waking up in a tent that wasn’t his own and with a stranger, Dwight would have the same flight or fight type of panic.

Dwight gasps as the knife drops and the other collapses back onto the ground. He grabs his bag and begins to tear it open, gauzes and wraps spilling out from the contents of his bag. He scoots over to get closer to the man, watching as the red bled through the original bandages.

“I have to close your wound.” Dwight says firmly as he starts to remove the bloodied wraps. He holds up something that looks like a bottle of alcohol.

A groan of pain ghosts past his lips as he feels the other settle beside him. Saying something he can't fully comprehend. But, upon seeing the bottle of disinfectant- and the gaze of a very sympathetic face- he tries to scramble away but does not succeed.

"No no no- don't do- don't fuckin'- Please-!"

The eventual burn of the liquid shreds through his body and his throat. Gargling gasps cut off by his rows of sharpened teeth clamping together hard in his mouth. His boots dig heels into the ground below him.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Dwight soothes, pleading for the other to understand.

Once the wound is clean, Dwight fetches for the rest of his medical items to successfully close and dress it. For a shaky little guy, he manages to calm his hands long enough to able to close the wound. When everything is over, Dwight backs away slightly, hands still in sight to show he’s not a threat.