birds are singing to calm us down

"Hush, you’re not sleeping on the floor." Sage chided softly as she made quick work of cleaning the wound and extracting glass shards from his head. She did her best to get it all but the blood made it hard to see. She supported him through most of it, keeping him upright and off the ground. "Almost done, hon."

It wasn't the worst pain he'd felt. Far from. Compared to what it had felt like getting that bottle smashed against his head - hell, waking up to finding himself in a pool of smashed glass stained with his own blood - it was nothing. No sense of terror, no blinding pain. It felt like a hollow cry of physical sensation; like he was disembodied and simply watching himself get stitched up, rather than actually feeling it. Time passed quickly. Or slowly; he couldn't tell, and he sure as hell wasn't certain. It was with the exhaustion of a child who'd cried for hours that he did what Sage wanted him to, which was climb up into her bed and sleep. 

"Don't tell me y'don't think your own logic is flawed," River shot back. "I'll do it," he said, ignoring her question of whether or not he was going anywhere - he had been, but it was nothing he couldn't do later, and he knew Sage well enough to know that she'd easily use it as a reason to weasel her way out of being taken care of by someone else. 

    A sharp pain wiped the trace of a smile from the Doll’s lips, making her wince quietly. More blood soiled the ripped fabric of the car seat as she shifted in position in order to get a better view of the Soldier. Oh how she hated looking weak in the eyes of others. In between heavy breaths she managed to articulate an answer to his question. 

"Yeah." He dragged his soggy backpack down from where it hung over his shoulder; the entire thing soaked through. It was a good thing he wasn't carrying anything important - just his canteen and some knick-knacks that could handle the downpour. His knife was strapped to his belt, hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, and was surprisingly enough dry, at least for the most part. "Here," he said, handing the canteen to the Rag Doll, not letting go until he was sure she had it - fumbling the canteen away was a waste of time and effort. 

Sage kept from inspecting River’s head as soon as he stepped back, not wanting to make the other soldier uncomfortable. “Uh- sure? It’s kinda gory…” She extended her arm out for him and looked at the mess herself. Most of the stitches were intact save for the ones near the top of her inner forearm. The initial wound was caused from her scaling down a building and getting caught on a piece of jagged metal she couldn’t see in the dark. Where the stitches failed, blood started seeping out. She winced as throbbing pain started to radiate up her arm. “It’s really gross, River.”

"Believe me," the blonde began, "when I say I've seen worse." River's fingers gently wrapped around her wrist so he could steer her arm, and he inspected the ripped, bleeding stitches with a trained sort of patience - it wasn't the first time he'd taken care of someone else's injury, though it happened less and less frequently with each year that passed. He'd been good at it, back home - had helped his sister more than once, just like she'd treated his injuries, too. He missed Rain; missed how their names matched - stupid and ridiculous and with a goddamn theme. He hadn't seen her since he was twelve.

I know… I must have re-opened it while climbing or something. Honestly, River, it’s fine.

"My head's fine," River responded, darting away - one step backwards enough to avoid Sage derailing the topic of conversation entirely. "Let me have a look at it," he continued, gesturing to her arm; ignoring the blood as best as he could.

I’m fine. I’m-

    “At least if you’re dead I can shove you out of my fancy red ride with a lot less effort.”

"Nice to see you too," River huffed in return, blonde brows furrowed as he stared her down. "What're you doin' in this dump? You hurt or somethin'?" He himself was only taking cover from the rain, alongside other.. reasons.. for being there, but none of it was Keagan's business, just like how she'd gotten hurt wasn't his. Her being hurt in the first place was, however, at least if she wanted to get out of there without struggling on her own.

"Mhm. I’ll even let you borrow my bed, yeah?" Sage took him up the stairs, keeping a steady pace despite his weight. They passed by doors - some opened and some closed - but encountered no other Soldiers. Sage assumed they were all avoiding the hallways, sleeping the previous night off or gone for the day. Any option suited Sage for the time being, she didn’t need them getting in the way of taking care of River. She took his gratitude in stride and smiled, though he couldn’t see it. 

"Aw, you don't haf'ta.. you don't haf'ta do that, I can sleep on the floor jus' fine," River replied, struggling with getting the words out - his entire mind was blurring, hazy at the edges and hard to comprehend. It did sound good though, sleeping in a bed, even if it wasn't his own. Maybe laying down would stop his head from feeling like a water spilling over the edges of a glass.

"Your threats don’t scare me," but his possible actions sure did. Fizz reluctantly shut her mouth for a few minutes, letting him chastise her, for the benefit of staying alive. But it was a sigh emitting from her lips that caused the girl to speak up again, although rather softly so no one else but him could hear. "If it means anything, I suppose I’m sorry." Those words had a terrible taste to them, because Fizz      apologising? It was rare for someone to witness her apologising, but it slipped out anyway.

"See if I fuckin' care." River's jaw was set in a harrowed, harsh clench; teeth grinding as he glared at the brunette. He'd rip her throat out, make her shut up, quell the headache that she kept poking and prodding with her inane, useless comments-- and then she was apologizing, and the menacing downward swoop of his brows let up, confusion clear on his face.

"I think I’ve got it," February said. She  stepped down onto the ground, careful not to put any weight on her injured foot.This was a place she knew well, and she was sure that her drug dealer, Ricky, wouldn’t like her bringing in strangers. He probably wouldn’t even be that happy to see her. Plus, she felt bad about making River carry her all over the place. 

"Sure thing," River said, smiling curtly, knowing full-well he'd probably never see her again. But he didn't have any issues with being polite - his mama'd raised him right - and so he just waved back at her before heading off, hearing the noise of the bell ringing as February limped into the diner, the door pulling itself shut behind her. 

The brunette couldn’t tell whether it was good that he didn’t remember blood on the floor. On one hand it could be that there was no blood but on the other it was also very likely that he didn’t remember because of head trauma. Swallowing down her own fears for him, she continued to guide him through the forest as gently as possible.

"Mm," River agreed, eyes flickering shut. It all hurt, and while pain was far from unfamiliar, it had never been pleasant. To top it all off, he was pretty sure he was still a little drunk, and staying awake in the face of it all wasn't easy. "Y'can.. Yeah. I jus' wanna sleep." His breathing was quiet, despite the circumstances; soft inhales through his nose, softer exhales from his mouth. 

Yeah well I was here first so, either leave or sit down and shut the fuck up.

February concentrated on her breathing as River carried her toward Battery City. Any second, she thought she might hurl, but she really hoped she wouldn’t. She had been through enough already. 

"Sure. Wanna walk in there on your own, or.. ?" It was the least he could do, offering her that much - he'd already carried her all the way into the city, so a few paces more wouldn't matter. Mickie's Diner wasn't exactly in the good parts of town, which was a nice thing as far as River was concerned, the blonde Toy Soldier having a hard time blending in if he strayed from the grimier streets of Battery City. That required time and effort and nicer clothing than he was currently wearing, and he had none of that at hand. 

You’re not exactly on a bustling street, River. Who else could you be following?

See that guy up ahead, with the glasses and the suit? 's him. Don't ask why.

Simon says fuck off.

Yeah, well, you can fuck right the fuck off yourself. 's not like this fuckin' alley's yours and yours alone, Simon.

[Pausing in the middle of the street, wide-eyed] You know, I’m not an idiot. I can tell when people are following me.

's not exactly you I'm followin'.