#moldecay

her side is resting against the doorframe, peering into the infirmary —— she holds her cigarette out of the door, never really coming in. might be symbolic of her, this love of thresholds and never stepping one way or another. “ you good ? ”, she asks, nodding as the nurse leaves his side: she’s wary, no particular inflection in her voice. it’s not personal —— trust is a hard earned privilege, within the walls of atlas. “ if you’re good to take a walk, i can show you around. we could use some more hands at work —— you any good with crops ? ” —— @moldecay​.

@moldecay​ sent  /   ❝ i mean, i don’t want to impose… but i’m bleeding profusely. ❞

“ ...  i can see that, yeah. ” 

mike’s expression can only be described as unperturbed, eyebrow lifted and half-lidded eyes flicking from ethan’s pale grimace to the blooming red that had already seeped an impressive crimson stain across what had presumably started as an off-white shirt. there was a beat of silence, where he remained simply leaning against the doorframe, weighing the fuss it risked raising were he to simply shut the door and let the man continue to bleed there on the steps. 

did he realize what time it was? certainly, mike hadn’t exactly been asleep, but it made it no less of a burden.

“ you know, archivist, if you really didn’t want to impose, you wouldn’t be here. ” wholly too casual an observation, perhaps, but it pairs with a low, suffering breath of alright as he stepped back to allow the man to stumble his way across the threshold. “ have a seat. i’ll find something.” frankly, he had half a mind to request he at least try to refrain from bleeding on everything as he did so, if he thought it wouldn’t make for the temptation to do so even more purposeful.

    ❛  you  good,  dude?  ❜  he  doesn’t  want  to  be  rude,  manners  are  important  and  all.  you  look  like  shit  seems  like  it  may  be  a  bit  rude.  especially  towards  someone  he’s  not  familiar  with.  he  takes  a  moment  to  think  of  his  wording,  ❛  you  look  tired  as  fuck.  like  -  have  you  heard  of  a  nap?  ❜

@moldecay sent  / “fuck’s sake, what’s your problem?” 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑒 / open

his gaze is impassive as he watches the man struggle: the shifting in obvious discomfort, blunt nails trying and failing to find anything solid against his neck to constrict his airflow. the oxygen of the room lingered precariously thin, frigid, something found on a mountaintop and threatening only to waiver. the gritted out question in spite of it, almost is enough to mike laugh, a dead, dry thing. almost. 

“taking advantage of my hospitality to try to make me into a meal is poor form, don’t you think?” when mike opted to finally answer, it was deliberately casual, leaning back in his seat.