People still hung up on "but the leshy made him act that way, I thought that was obvious" when the adaptation's own promotional (*cough* 'supporting' because the writing needs it *cough*) material promotes the idea that Eskel's usually a bit of a dickhead anyway (to the point that their God Tier Chadralt "doesn't see eye to eye with him", because Chadralt is special and Does Not Struggle or Agree With The Naughty Things Going On Here), but the leshy sting made him a bit more of one because he's tired ("especially after")?
Which is why the response of the others is "*shrug* he's just more Eskel than usual". Netflix Canon Eskel isn't the one from the books and games. He's a different beast. And even in the flashback, he isn't sweet, he's... lazy and boorish, then leaps away from Geralt like he's used to having the shit kicked out of him by Geralt for being a dick (facial expressions are important in visual media).
By all means, copy/paste your pretty boy over game/book Eskel, but you're missing out on another irredeemable arsehole to write about.
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No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?
Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury
________________
It was definitely the last time he was gonna fall for that ‘not mine’ bullshit when one of their own was covered in blood.
But Metal had pulled it off incredibly well, and he hadn’t seen any signs of his brother struggling.
He had seen the blood, but he had not seen anything else which would suggest it was Metal’s. The man had been acting bullet proof as ever, and the dirt and grit he was covered in made it near impossible to see that he was getting paler.
* * *
He had never hit a fellow injured soldier, although he did have the urge to do that right about now.
They had made it back to the C-17, before the man chose to let him in on his little predicament. The blood covering the right side of Metal’s vest had been his own blood. Not someone else’s like he had claimed.
Trent could feel his face turn red with anger. Every cell in his body wanted to teach Metal a lesson in self-preservation. Both his hands curled into fists, as if he didn’t have a say in the matter.
“You do realize how incredibly stupid that was?” he asked as he watched Metal trying to get his t-shirt off.
“Blade broke the first time he stabbed me…” Metal shrugged his left shoulder, obviously mindful of the right side of his chest and his right shoulder, “Not much you can do with a mere inch. Don’t think the rest of the blade made it through my pec even…”
The urge to hit Metal grew stronger.
“I just need a few stitches.” Metal prompted, “Make sure these don’t pop open and start bleeding again. Some pressure and a quick-clot gauze stopped it easily.”
Trent didn’t make a move. Metal hadn’t even managed to get his t-shirt off. He didn’t say anything either, he just stood there, trying to hold back the verbal assault he had roaring inside his brain and the matching punches he was practically trembling to hold back.
“That guy could have collapsed your lung. Could’ve nicked a large artery…” Trent bit out.
“Well, he didn’t.” Metal tilted his head in lieu of a shrug, “Plus, that guy’s dead. I’m here.”
That was obviously the straw that broke the camel’s back. That was triggering enough to cause Trent to reel back and punch Full Metal.
First his right fist, his weak side, hit Metal’s jaw. Then his left fist planted itself at the lowest point of Metal’s sternum, or maybe right below that.
Then strong arms wrapped around his left elbow and pulled him backwards.
In front of him, Metal hunched forward and reached up to steady his shoulder. He coughed a few times as his diaphragm spasmed as a result of the blow to his solar plexus.
“Trent, this isn’t you…” Sonny’s voice was right by his ear, “This is not how you act.”
Metal coughed a few more times, still supporting his right shoulder with his left hand, still hunched over.
Trent was still trembling with anger.
“-Ow…” Metal croaked out as he slowly stood back to his full height, he looked down at his left hand against his right shoulder, blood was trickling out between two of his fingers, “So, stitches or are you gonna deck me again?”
Trent glared over at Metal, “I want to deck you…”
“Trent…” Sonny still had him in a good grip, and the warning tone in his voice told him not to act on what he wanted.
“-But you do need those stitches.” Trent added with a sigh, “And we need to talk about how incredibly stupid you were to hide that from us in the field.”
Metal nodded a little, still holding his hand near his right shoulder.
“-And you don’t get local for those stitches. You deserve to feel them.”
“Easy there, tiger…” Sonny tugged him back a little bit more, “You already punched him, twice. I think he already payed his dues.”
“Wasn’t gonna ask for local…” Metal shrugged his left shoulder a bit, “Was hoping for some tylenol though… -Shoulder is sore…”
* * *
“-Sorry for punching you…” Trent sighed as he closed up the third of the gashes near and around Metal’s shoulder. The impulsive act had gnawed on his conscience for almost five minutes already.
“Probably deserved it…” Metal swallowed, keeping his eyes locked on something hanging from the ceiling of the plane.
“You kinda did.” Trent nodded, “But I shouldn’t have done it anyway…”
“Besides, pretty sure my two year old niece delivers harder punches than that straight right you have.”
Trent chuckled a bit, “That’s just a bit exaggerated…”
Metal smirked a little and looked down at where Trent’s hands were managing forceps, needle driver and sutures.
“I could administer some local anesthetic if it stings too much…” Trent shrugged, not looking up from where his hands were working.
“Nah, I’m good.” Metal sighed, “I can handle a few stitches.”
Trent looked up, then he glanced down at where Metal was supporting his right elbow. “Your shoulder bothering you?”
Metal looked back at the D-ring hanging from the ceiling, “A little. Subluxated it.”
Trent offered up a sympathetic grimace, “Did you get it back in?”
“Slipped back before I even had a chance to get up…” Metal looked back at Trent. “Has that ‘inside-swollen’ feeling. I can’t lift it properly.”
“Can you show me?”
“Not while you’re hacking away at me with that needle…” Metal smirked a bit. “Later.”
Trent nodded and resumed his stitch work. “Just, promise me that next time, you let me know that you’re hurt…”
Metal nodded a little.
“Straight away…” Trent added, “Not this ‘once-we-make-it-back-to-the-plane’ bullshit, okay?”
Metal nodded again.
“-But I’ve gotta say, the blade breaking was a lucky strike.”
“Sure was.” Metal agreed, “I expected that knife to sink in to its hilt.”
Trent almost shuddered at the thought, “Glad that didn’t happen…”
Metal nodded.
* * *
Trent was not impressed by Metal’s attempt at lifting his right arm. Not at all. “I’ve got a suggestion…”
Metal tiled his head, questioningly.
“Sling.”
“No.”
“I know you hate stuff that says ‘I-am-wounded’, but your shoulder will probably be grateful for it. Maybe even ache a bit less.”
Metal frowned.
“Come on now…” Trent shrugged, “Just for a few days, until your shoulder feels better. As sure as the doctors who check you out when we land back home don’t say otherwise.”
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