#crouchtessa

blood drips onto the tile floors, definitively ruining the sterile environment. slab of meat is pressed against his eye ( medieval solution, but one that works... somewhat well ) and he’s sitting slumped on the exam table. doesn’t really want to be there, but is either way. if only so that CERTAIN people in his life will stop pestering him about getting stitched up properly. so it is with some sense of defeat that he observes tessa crouch, icy eyes following her every movement. “how long until you can have me out of here?” he asks, impatience made painstakingly clear in his voice. he does not want to be there. they both know it. but blood is pouring from a wound on his chest, and there is a nasty gash across his cheek. right now, he is more blood and dirt than he is man.