"Oh, I've been better," Ganymede manages with a grimace at another swipe of antiseptic, muscles down his side twitching. "I'm trying to avoid stitches, though."
The EMT gave Ganymede a look he understood all too well: one that meant his desired outcome was not likely. The graze was deep enough to be consistently bleeding, though he was in no danger of bleeding out or losing more than he had already. "Might be a little slow at work in the next couple days. No hard shaking for me." He worked at a bar, one that did coffee and things in the morning and afternoons as well as mixed drinks and the more popular beer in the evenings. "Ow, fuck, that stings," he hisses when the EMT pulled gently on the edge of the wound.
"You alright?" Not just physically, but he had needed to shoot several people who were now dead.
no subject
The EMT gave Ganymede a look he understood all too well: one that meant his desired outcome was not likely. The graze was deep enough to be consistently bleeding, though he was in no danger of bleeding out or losing more than he had already. "Might be a little slow at work in the next couple days. No hard shaking for me." He worked at a bar, one that did coffee and things in the morning and afternoons as well as mixed drinks and the more popular beer in the evenings. "Ow, fuck, that stings," he hisses when the EMT pulled gently on the edge of the wound.
"You alright?" Not just physically, but he had needed to shoot several people who were now dead.