The Tiger...

{|REACTION MEME| Bruised and Broken Version}

A slight look of amusement on his face despite it all, Sebastian stays put, surprisingly casual for someone dripping blood onto the floor. 

"Cheers." 

For a moment, Jim turned his attention to the doctors as they asked him questions. The more questions he was asked, the more terrified he became. Of all the questions they asked him, he couldn’t answer one. 

He was glad when the doctors and nurses left, Jim finally feeling he was able to breath. He watched them as they went out the door and felt the man next to his bed squeeze his hand. Slowly he turned to look at their hands as they lay on the bed, their fingers intertwined.

 His eyes slowly rose to look into the man’s eyes once more, not wanting to answer his question. He didn’t know his name, and fucking hell, that terrified him. Instead, he turned his attention to the door as more people came in to do tests and examine him once more.

Soon enough however, they left the two in peace, hopefully for longer than a few minutes this time. Although, in a way, he hoped the doctors would return, that way, he wouldn’t have to answer this stranger's questions, he wouldn’t have to face the truth that he had no idea who this man was. 

Jim shook his head in reply to the man’s question. “No.” he said eventually, his voice dry and hoarse. “I-” he paused as his breathing became heavier. “I don’t remember.”

He removed his hand from the other man’s before slowly running his hands through his hair as he clenched his teeth, a mixture of emotions beginning to over come him.

With a weary smile Sebastian took a breath. He'd give Jim a few more minutes to think, wait for the doctors and nurses and specialists to return, and then if nothing triggered anything, he'd have to tell Jim his own name. Maybe they'd bring him a mirror, see if looking at his reflection would help, let him try drinking some water. Fuck, he didn't know. He just wanted to pull Jim to him and hold him there so he'd never try and pull that shit again, tell him he hated him and- fuck it- he loved him, and that he was sorry he'd not been able to stop him, and that it hurt, it fucking hurt. 

He realised there were tears in his eyes and swallowed thickly, looked away, stared at the gap under the door where light and feet could be seen, trying to even out his breathing. He wasn't about to break down. Besides, Jim needed him. 

{Send me “Do it.” I’ll generate a number from 1-30. Mixture of NSFW and Fluff}

21: My muse keeps trying to get your muse’s attention without saying a word

The tiny, rolled up pieces of paper kept coming, flung across the room in his brother’s direction, despite the fact that Jasper may have been deliberately ignoring him by now.

A familiar game. 

Aggravated and determined not to beg, the older Moran picked up a magazine that had been lying around, its cover glossy and hard, and hurled it across the table with little regard to causing any potential injuries. 

He listens to Jim's plan with complete sincerity, nodding along. "Consulting Criminal, huh? Unique. You're a smart little thing. You know I reckon you'll pull it off. Maybe I'll work for you instead." he smirked, only half-joking. "Though I'll still expect you to cook for me." 

22 - My muse is evil, your muse is good - in order to see to it that the world survives one of them must die. They cannot leave the room they are locked in until they agree or one kills the other.

"I’ve always wanted to watch the world burn…"

Jim sat across from the other man, his eyes like daggers, his foot tapping against the leg of the chair. It was them who had to save the world. How pathetic. A man who had killed hundreds of people and another who saved hundreds fighting for Queen and country. Here they sat, none of them agreeing to die, none of them having killed the other.

Just wait. You’ll be the one walking out of here. he’s tell himself.

Jim’s eyes rolled in his head as the man spoke. They were not friends, the man did not know him that well. But yet, he knew more about his ways than Jim was comfortable with. But of course he’d never allow Sebastian to see that.

"We’re both in the same boat in that way. You hardly think a criminal such as myself makes friends do you? Neither of us have anyone.” he replied in a dull, monotonous tone.

WITHOUT LOOKING, PUT A NUMBER BETWEEN 1-42 IN MY ASK BOX! [GRAB BAG EDITION]

35: Your muse is mine’s sibling in high school.

Sebastian kept his focus, staring straight ahead, straight at the man before him, the only time his gaze faltered being when it drifted to his chest, his head, his thigh. His forehead.

He looked back at Richard again, jaw working, and for a moment it seemed as though he were going to spring up and grab him, his gaze falling on his arms, on his waist, on his throat. Whatever it was, the expression passed and he simply shook his head. "I worked for him for quite some time- we're talking years- before I met him face to face."

And fuck had that been a surprise.

{Hello! ^^ Not at all! So sorry I haven’t gotten around to plotting with you yet, I’m getting to everything when I’m less ew~} 

There wasn’t much Sebastian could do other than wait and occupy himself with keeping his blood in his body. He offered a smile that trawled its way slowly across one side of his mouth, allowing his head to lean back and meet the wall. 

"S’just a scratch. I’ve had worse." 

She continued to work, finally getting to the end of the bandage and pinning it in place. “No strenuous activities,” she warned, “Not for a while. You’ll make yourself start bleeding again.” She gave a small laugh at his joke. “Good. That’ll help you heal faster. And so will rest.”

He'd never hear the last of it. 

"Stitches? Ain't got time for those. Ain't got time for rest either." He shook his head, shifted slightly as though he'd attempted to jump up and surprised himself, emitting a low growl of pain. She was rewarded with a look that clearly demanded her not to say 'I told you so'. "Damn..."