okay keep pressure on it to the point it's almost unbearable if you need to sit sit down
[ And he'll be there shortly on a motorbike that definitely isn't his and he's ditching on the side of the road. Kitty cops, he is SAVING A KID he will return it. ]
Who showed you the bar-room shuffle?
[ It's the first thing that he asks when he sees Diarmuid. His backpack is already off his back and in his arms. ]
[Diarmuid looks a little scattered, sweating from the stress of — well, all that! And as he stands with his hands painfully pressed on his side, Wade can probably make out a wide blemish of sticky blood where a long cut has been made by something that was definitely jagged and unpleasant. It is deep enough to leave his hands stained, but he remains upright and cool-headed, despite the occasional contortion of pain on his face.
Oh —]
Lay down?! Here?!
[And expose his medieval long johns to the world?!]
[ Wade raises his eyebrows, an unimpressed look passing over his face. ] Yes, unless you plan on tangoing with the void later. Moving will make you lose more blood and I'm not trusting you not to fall off that bike. Also Cable gets mad at me when I get blood on the furniture.
[ Forget modesty, Diarmuid. It's for cowards. ] Downdowndowndown.
[He grumbles a little (such a grave monk sin) as he moves to sit down. Of course, he's not lying down yet — he's sitting and hoping that will appease Wade. He does start pulling up his robe, though, and thank god medieval underwear isn't as embarrassing to loiter in than modern underwear.]
I haven't a clue what 'tangoing' is.
[Huff. He grits his teeth, as the robe is peeled from his wound; it weeps miserably, an uneven laceration that stretches across his ribcage. He knows this looks bad, so he's just going to look up at Wade innocently, like nothing is concerning here.]
I don't think you get to decide what is or what isn't a flesh wound, bubba.
[ That sure is some underwear choices. Not that Wade can or would judge... that much.....
Wade follows Diarmuid's movements, crouching next to him and pushing his shoulder back to get him to lay the entire way down. And if people have a problem with Wade playing doctor right here, well they can eat an entire bag of dicks. ]
Tango is a dance that everyone does on Dancing With The Stars... Or when they're trying to seduce their partner...
[ Wade frowns deeply at the wound and decides to just dump all his supplies out of the backpack. ] At this rate I should just have you carry this around for me.
[ He snags up a wade of paper towels and soaks them in that foul smelling antiseptic Diarmuid is such a fan of. Almost unconsciously he offers his hand out to squeeze on, before going in to wipe the blood away and disinfect in one swoop. ]
You'll have a sick scar. Babes love some scars. Not too many though, so stop getting hurt. Or you'll start to look like me when I don't have my chocolate Botox.
[He is a little self-conscious about other people seeing a.) his braies and b.) him injured and getting treatment, but he supposes he deserves it for not defending himself more properly. He'd gotten himself involved; he'll have to accept the consequences.]
I do not want to seduce anyone...!
[That is apparently one of his biggest concerns on the forefront.
Monks are very easily alarmed like that.
As Wade begins to clean his injury, which is still weeping a little too miserably, it's clear that Diarmuid's learned how to tolerate the pain from their last interaction like this; he white-knuckles his hands into his robes as his face pinches.]
Yup. [ He pops the p like an annoying cashier that you might catch while trying to get groceries from the corner store. All that's missing is the lazy chewing at some bubble gum. ]
I'm not sure if American Insurance covers it but, yeah. Sure.
[ He hesitates before grabbing another wad of paper towels and pressing them over the wound. ] Hold this down for a sec, gotta get my seamstress on.
[ And he won't remove the firm pressure he holds against the injury until Diarmuid moves his hand to it. After that he's suddenly threading the needle and dousing everything in more liquid to steralise it. ]
Am I going to have to stop by the hospital and get an actual suture needle? Is this going to be a suture needle relationship?
[ He's babbling as he finishes up with that task so he can actually sew the thing up. ]
Alright, you know the drill, this part feels weird and kinda sucks. Always used to give me the jeebies when I already had the heebies. Y'know what I mean?
[ He moves to uncover the injury again. ]
Gonna tell me who did this? Or should I just start poking holes in all of the residents here that look suspect. I'm not above it.
[He makes such a face at Wade, which only slightly wavers with the first aid being supplied at the moment. Because as much as he's comforted in a way by Wade's protective personality, he also is more than aware it's not always necessarily a good trait. Case in point: the way he starts talking about poking holes in people.]
Sir Deadpool... It wasn't anyone's fault.
You know this town does strange things to people's minds.
[ Wade goes oddly quiet for a little bit, apparently sufficiently cowed by the kid for the moment. He's right, he always is about stuff like this. He's had his mind fucked by this place a dozen times now.
Still, it makes him simmer with light rage that someone hurt Diarmuid and got to walk away to tell the tale. ]
Fine, the only holes I'll poke are in you right now. [ And he begins to do so, working on sewing the injury up. ] They hurt you again and you have to tell me. Promise me you'll tell me?
[ With the plea, Wade pauses to look into Diarmuid's eyes, searching for something. ]
Diarmuid is a simple person in too many ways: all of them good-natured and concerning to people like Pete and Wade, he's found. But it simply is his way of things, and when he can sense genuine concern in the request, he cannot stop himself from sighing and eventually nodding.]
... I swear to you, I will tell you if they hurt me.
[ Wade lets out a sigh and nods weakly, turning his attention back down to the wound. ]
You're too good for your own good Curly-Q, and anyone that lays their fucking hands on you deserves to lose 'em.
[ He'd wished he had someone to protect him when he was younger and couldn't protect himself. If someone even get it in their head that they're gonna start treating Diarmuid wrong, they've got another thing coming, and it ends in two swords jammed in their lungs. ]
What do you think? Ice cream after this? I know, I know, kinda hard to think about food when you have someone sewing you up like a Raggedy Ann doll who got into a fight with a pit bull and lost.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A stressed new dad
keep pressure on it to the point it's almost unbearable
if you need to sit sit down
[ And he'll be there shortly on a motorbike that definitely isn't his and he's ditching on the side of the road. Kitty cops, he is SAVING A KID he will return it. ]
Who showed you the bar-room shuffle?
[ It's the first thing that he asks when he sees Diarmuid. His backpack is already off his back and in his arms. ]
Lay down and show me where you're hurt.
Enjoy the new life dp
I’ve not heard of such a maneuver.
[Diarmuid looks a little scattered, sweating from the stress of — well, all that! And as he stands with his hands painfully pressed on his side, Wade can probably make out a wide blemish of sticky blood where a long cut has been made by something that was definitely jagged and unpleasant. It is deep enough to leave his hands stained, but he remains upright and cool-headed, despite the occasional contortion of pain on his face.
Oh —]
Lay down?! Here?!
[And expose his medieval long johns to the world?!]
he hates it
[ Forget modesty, Diarmuid. It's for cowards. ] Downdowndowndown.
[ Teenagers. ]
Let me patch you up.
no subject
I haven't a clue what 'tangoing' is.
[Huff. He grits his teeth, as the robe is peeled from his wound; it weeps miserably, an uneven laceration that stretches across his ribcage. He knows this looks bad, so he's just going to look up at Wade innocently, like nothing is concerning here.]
... It's not... so terrible.
Just a flesh wound.
no subject
[ That sure is some underwear choices. Not that Wade can or would judge... that much.....
Wade follows Diarmuid's movements, crouching next to him and pushing his shoulder back to get him to lay the entire way down. And if people have a problem with Wade playing doctor right here, well they can eat an entire bag of dicks. ]
Tango is a dance that everyone does on Dancing With The Stars... Or when they're trying to seduce their partner...
[ Wade frowns deeply at the wound and decides to just dump all his supplies out of the backpack. ] At this rate I should just have you carry this around for me.
[ He snags up a wade of paper towels and soaks them in that foul smelling antiseptic Diarmuid is such a fan of. Almost unconsciously he offers his hand out to squeeze on, before going in to wipe the blood away and disinfect in one swoop. ]
You'll have a sick scar. Babes love some scars. Not too many though, so stop getting hurt. Or you'll start to look like me when I don't have my chocolate Botox.
no subject
I do not want to seduce anyone...!
[That is apparently one of his biggest concerns on the forefront.
Monks are very easily alarmed like that.
As Wade begins to clean his injury, which is still weeping a little too miserably, it's clear that Diarmuid's learned how to tolerate the pain from their last interaction like this; he white-knuckles his hands into his robes as his face pinches.]
I imagine — Botox is — a form of medication?
no subject
I'm not sure if American Insurance covers it but, yeah. Sure.
[ He hesitates before grabbing another wad of paper towels and pressing them over the wound. ] Hold this down for a sec, gotta get my seamstress on.
[ And he won't remove the firm pressure he holds against the injury until Diarmuid moves his hand to it. After that he's suddenly threading the needle and dousing everything in more liquid to steralise it. ]
Am I going to have to stop by the hospital and get an actual suture needle? Is this going to be a suture needle relationship?
[ He's babbling as he finishes up with that task so he can actually sew the thing up. ]
Alright, you know the drill, this part feels weird and kinda sucks. Always used to give me the jeebies when I already had the heebies. Y'know what I mean?
[ He moves to uncover the injury again. ]
Gonna tell me who did this? Or should I just start poking holes in all of the residents here that look suspect. I'm not above it.
no subject
Sir Deadpool... It wasn't anyone's fault.
You know this town does strange things to people's minds.
no subject
Still, it makes him simmer with light rage that someone hurt Diarmuid and got to walk away to tell the tale. ]
Fine, the only holes I'll poke are in you right now. [ And he begins to do so, working on sewing the injury up. ] They hurt you again and you have to tell me. Promise me you'll tell me?
[ With the plea, Wade pauses to look into Diarmuid's eyes, searching for something. ]
no subject
Diarmuid is a simple person in too many ways: all of them good-natured and concerning to people like Pete and Wade, he's found. But it simply is his way of things, and when he can sense genuine concern in the request, he cannot stop himself from sighing and eventually nodding.]
... I swear to you, I will tell you if they hurt me.
no subject
You're too good for your own good Curly-Q, and anyone that lays their fucking hands on you deserves to lose 'em.
[ He'd wished he had someone to protect him when he was younger and couldn't protect himself. If someone even get it in their head that they're gonna start treating Diarmuid wrong, they've got another thing coming, and it ends in two swords jammed in their lungs. ]
What do you think? Ice cream after this? I know, I know, kinda hard to think about food when you have someone sewing you up like a Raggedy Ann doll who got into a fight with a pit bull and lost.
no subject
... M'lord, I'm fairly certain such offers are given to children much younger than I.
[Not that he's that offended, but — it does make him feel a little young.
And wanting ice-cream now.]
no subject
And the second: are you dissing ice cream right now? Fine, I'll get my own ice cream and you're not invited.
[ He finishes the seamstress job up in no time and wipes at the blood that had pooled around it. ]
no subject
[A teeny little smile pulls at his lips.]
It depends. Is 'dissing' a bad thing? I've no reference — Wade.
[Strange, he's never called him by his name before. But... it's nice.
Wade's a nice name.]
no subject
[ Let him just slap some gauze over that and tape it down. He is an artiste. ]
So is that a yes on the ice cream?
[ Wade's an okay name at best. ]
no subject
... And probably sound 'uncool' while saying it.]
Ice-cream does sound nice.
I, um... don't... think I'll be able to walk much, though.
[He's hurting something fierce. The idea of getting back to his cabin to sleep has his mouth going a little dry.]