Daniel Carter

          “There,” Pasha hummed, returning the bottle to the counter as the pink runoff of vodka and blood dripped from his arm to the floor and turning his gaze back to the younger man’s face, trying to gauge his reaction. “It should only be uphill from here.”

Even after Pasha moved the bottle away and set it back down, the pain didn’t subside much for a good couple of minutes. As the other spoke, Daniel forced himself to nod in response as he opened his eyes to look again. “Good. Great,” he responded, the pain still evident in his voice. Eventually though, as the sensation began to dull, Daniel’s body began to relax once more. 

          It did not take long for Pasha to finish removing the scraps of makeshift bandage the man had used to cover up his arm, practiced hands gentle as they peeled the cloth from his skin. “I was, yes,” he admitted with a nod, letting his gaze drift between what his hands were doing and the younger man’s face as he spoke. “A trauma surgeon, actually, for nearly ten years.” He paused at that, reaching for the bottle of vodka and turning it over in his hand before settling a concerned stare on Daniel.  “How are you with pain? This may sting.” 

“I appreciate that, man.” Noah thought that, even if he’d already skimmed the place, it was generous. After all, he didn’t know Noah and had no reason to help him, but Noah had a group to look after and any little thing made a huge difference to them. “Really.”

“So you woke me up for nothing? Great.”

“Like I said,” Noah answered seriously, “I didn’t realise you were alive. In this world, you have to be on the look out for scavenging. At all times.” He shrugged, “But now that I see you’re alive…” He shrugged, “Obviously that changes the situation entirely.”

“If you wanna check this place out for shit, go ahead. I ain’t staying here, I just stopped to grab some shuteye,” he responded. “Take whatever you want- other than that bag,” he nodded towards the rucksack by the side of the bed. 

There was a slight groan that left Daniel’s lips as he dragged himself out of the bed, quickly pulling his boots on before grabbing the bag at the foot of the bed. “Ladies first,” he gestured to the window while he pulled his rucksack onto his back. 

          “I suppose that is only fair,” the doctor replied, yet another soft chuckle falling from his lips at the blunt nature of the younger man’s question, perhaps the most graphic way he could have phrased it. “My name is Pavel. Pavel Lebedyev,” he supplied, approaching the man once he’d settled into a bar stool and beginning to lift away the layers of makeshift bandage that covered his wound. “But you can call me Pasha if you’d like.” Gentle hands peeled away the cloth, sticky and soaked in red, careful not to inflict any more pain than he was already suffering. “And you?” he asked, azure gaze flickering curiously up to him before back again. “Back in the day, I would not have had to ask. I’d already have found your name on your charts.” 

          “So I’ve heard,” Pavel mused with a faint smile before looking over the array of supplies he’d assembled. There was only one item missing, one that had ultimately convinced him that the bar would be the best place to stitch this man up. He had used the last of the peroxide he brought with him on a cut he’d received himself ( a fairly decent gash he’d gotten from the sharp, jagged edge of a broken metal shelving unit in a nearby pharmacy ) but he couldn’t possibly sew up the other man’s cut without first sanitizing it, lest he trap a plethora of bacteria beneath the surface to fester. Coming around the side of the bar, narrowed eyes quickly scanned the bottles that lined the back counter until he found one that suited him, checking the label once to make certain before turning back to the younger man. “You can have a seat, if you’d like,” he said and nodded toward the bar stools as he came back around, adding the bottle of high-proof vodka to his lineup of supplies before taking a few steps toward him. “That might make it easier to keep still.” Pasha glanced down at the haphazard attempt at a bandage wrapped around his arm; it was mottled in ever-spreading blotches of crimson, his wrapping too loose to stem the flow of blood any. “And then we can take a look at what we’re dealing with, hm?” 

Daniel watched as the other male looked over the bottles at the back of the counter. This was going to hurt like a bitch but it wasn’t something that he couldn’t handle. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’s had to be patched up like this and he was almost certain that it wouldn’t be the last time either. He gave a small nod in response when the other spoke before walking over and taking a seat on one of the barstools close to his setup. “Is there any chance I can catch your name before you start shoving needles through my skin?” Daniel asked, glancing up at the older man as he approached him once more before offering the poorly bandaged arm out towards him. 

Noah shrugged his shoulders. He supposed if the other man was fine, he really didn’t want anything. He holstered his gun, before turning away, “Nothing– I’ll leave you be.” 

“You sure about that?” He asked, actually sitting up to look at the other male now. “What did you come in for in the first place?”

“No, I’m not kidding. It’s something important to me. Very near and dear to my heart,” he muttered in response. However, when she spoke again Daniel immediately sat upright. “Shit- really?”

The bat that she had been clutching quickly dropped to her side at the man’s wishes. “I was jus’ lookin’ for some supplies. ‘m sorry, sir. I didn’ have a clue that you were in here.”

Daniel just nodded and gave the girl a small smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine,” he said, moving to sit up a little in the bed.

Daniel opened his eyes and raised his head to look at the other male. “Drinking buddy huh? Guess that’s a good a reason as any to wake somewhere,” he muttered before pushing himself up into a sitting position. 

Noah didn’t drop his gun, to do so seemed a pointless gesture, especially now that he saw the man wasn’t dead, just… laying around at risk. “I thought you were probably dead.” His voice was still hard– he was busy trying to figure out why one would risk their ass for sleep the way he was.

“You thought wrong,” he replied simply, letting out a sigh before resting his head back on the pillow. “What do you want?” He asked again, though his voice was slightly muffled by the fabric beneath his face.

          The brief grin to find the younger man’s lips, however flitting, did not go unnoticed to Pasha; paired with his suggestion ( one that was surprisingly impish, given the circumstances ) it was enough to elicit a chuckle from the doctor, faint but amused nevertheless. “Perhaps,” he replied as he followed the other into the building, his own lips slightly upturned. “I have heard many an anecdotal argument for the pain-relieving properties of alcohol. There isn’t any medical validity to those claims, but I am inclined to believe a drink could certainly help.” Locking the door behind him as he entered the building, Pasha quickly crossed the room to the bar and hoisted his bag onto the surface, already beginning to pull out an assortment of supplies. “Or, at very least, it could not hurt.”

“Oh, a drink always helps,” he responded with a light chuckle. As the other male began going through his bag, Daniel glanced down at the gash on his arm. He’d made an attempt to bandage it- however he hadn’t got enough on him to cover the whole thing and he’d made a pretty poor job of it too. It was only a temporary thing until he could get back to his camp but even he had to admit it looked like a five year old had tried to fix it. 

          “ Perhaps if ‘going for a drink’ with you now did not encourage the possibility of your bleeding out that much faster,” Pavel said simply as he began across the street, glancing over his shoulder to check that the younger man was following him. His pace, though not rushed, was swift as he led him down the sidewalk and toward the building in question. He always felt exposed when he walked down the street of the empty city.  “Alcohol acts as a blood thinner.” As they approached the bar, he scanned the main room through the front doors, ensuring that he recalled correctly its abandoned state. When a knock on the glass provoked no movement from inside, he reached for the door and pulled it open, stepping out of the way so the other man could enter. “Stitches first. Happy Hour can wait.”

"Maybe later then?” He asked with a small, cheeky grin. As they made their way down the street, the hand on Daniel’s uninjured arm rested on the hilt of hiss knife. He’d not been around this area much before so he had no idea how many infected would be lurking around. Just because he couldn’t see them right now didn’t mean that they weren’t there. As they reached the building and the older male began inspecting it, Daniel stood close but kept his eye on the surrounding area. The last thing they needed right now was to be jumped. As he heard the door open he turned around, giving the other a short nod before walking inside the building.