03-20-2019, 08:24 PM
Her frown had not faded.
Somehow, Bas kept upright until they were alone. It was a brave thing to do for the others. There was something about Bas, something remarkable, something surprisingly good that had driven the others to seek him out. He smiled brightly at the others, urging the other kids to check on "the Northsiders", trying it make it sound like a game. All the while his chat with them was assuring; answered their queries, complimented them, told them a joke that made them laugh so loud it drew a disapproving stare from Nina.
Quickly, beautifully timing his interjection between the others' nervous laughter, Bas looked over at her with his big smile and clean-cut features, and Nina was lost for words. He’d never seen her before in his life, but he knew her. As if he’d always known her... To her, he was smart mouthed, cock sure, roguish but utterly cool under fire; if there was a hot center in any fight, Bas would most likely be in it. If there was a joke in the hangout, Bas would be in that too. The thick of it all. Earning respect on sheer merit and being loved by all. This idea appealed to Nina immensely. But she could tell from Bas’ manner, his breathing, his wounds were actually bothering him.
“Bas?” he swayed. His face was pale and unhealthy.
“Bas!” Nina cried, hurrying to him. He was whispering something stupid about asking her to dance. But there was nothing stupid about the expression on his face as soundlessly he pitched forward.
She stooped beside her fallen companion, felt for a pulse and started to dab at the blood streaming from his arm.
“Why did you get hurt, stupid?” Nina asked, fierce concern on her dust-smudged face. Her glossy black hair was now tied away from her face.
She reached out a hand and grabbed Bas’ tight. “Shhhh,” Nina assured him. Almost immediately, she let go. Something thrilled through her skin, like an electric charge. Like needles. She gasped sharply and stared back at him, confused. More mystified than anything else.
Nina shook herself to clear the distraction from her mind. Even Bas’ appeal became academic in face of his injuries. She cleared her mind of what’s in her head right now. Fear. Fear of pain and death, fear of failure. The weight of her new responsibilities. The sick feeling she’ll f— up and let people down. And Bas was not helping her nerves with his stupidly attractive face and his winking.
She focused on his injured hand. Her study of Bas was now a more workmanlike approach; her gaze intense as if cutting into him; mind full of gauze and disinfection. She was firm. Resolved.
She took out her first aid dressings and started to patch up Bas’s hand, smacking a one-shot vial of morphine into the flesh above his wrist first.
With her other hand, she stroked his hair, matted with blood, and then dragged a finger carefully down the slope of his exposed cheek. Blood from a head wound dribbled down his cheek. This is it. His head must be pulsing and—
“I’ll try not to hurt you," Nina said gently. Her voice was just a soft murmur. Her breathing dropped to a very low rate.
“Easy does it and—"
Nina broke off. She had bent down and helped Bas, stripping off his constricting shirt. At the sight of his battered torso—tattoo’d and starting to stretch out with the bulk of a man—her guts tightened. She knew, long before she actually saw his body, that his ribs were broken; ruptured and collapsed; luckily not puncturing his lungs. He was miraculously alive but definitely, not intact... Was he scared? She would be!
And his chest… his arms… a fight had not done that. He had made those fearful, lifetime marks. Given that, from the rate of infections on ink’d patients at the Guardian, most tattoo shops in the district had difficultly differentiating its ass from its elbows, these were rather professionally and nicely done in Nina’s opinion.
“So tell me,” she said quietly, lining up her next shot of morphine. “Who did your tattoos?” she smiled and nodded. “We need to re-set your ribs so they heal. I’m sure you’ll agree."
She saw the look in his eyes and added sweetly. “Hold still, Bas angel.”
See! She could flirt, too.
Somehow, Bas kept upright until they were alone. It was a brave thing to do for the others. There was something about Bas, something remarkable, something surprisingly good that had driven the others to seek him out. He smiled brightly at the others, urging the other kids to check on "the Northsiders", trying it make it sound like a game. All the while his chat with them was assuring; answered their queries, complimented them, told them a joke that made them laugh so loud it drew a disapproving stare from Nina.
Quickly, beautifully timing his interjection between the others' nervous laughter, Bas looked over at her with his big smile and clean-cut features, and Nina was lost for words. He’d never seen her before in his life, but he knew her. As if he’d always known her... To her, he was smart mouthed, cock sure, roguish but utterly cool under fire; if there was a hot center in any fight, Bas would most likely be in it. If there was a joke in the hangout, Bas would be in that too. The thick of it all. Earning respect on sheer merit and being loved by all. This idea appealed to Nina immensely. But she could tell from Bas’ manner, his breathing, his wounds were actually bothering him.
“Bas?” he swayed. His face was pale and unhealthy.
“Bas!” Nina cried, hurrying to him. He was whispering something stupid about asking her to dance. But there was nothing stupid about the expression on his face as soundlessly he pitched forward.
She stooped beside her fallen companion, felt for a pulse and started to dab at the blood streaming from his arm.
“Why did you get hurt, stupid?” Nina asked, fierce concern on her dust-smudged face. Her glossy black hair was now tied away from her face.
She reached out a hand and grabbed Bas’ tight. “Shhhh,” Nina assured him. Almost immediately, she let go. Something thrilled through her skin, like an electric charge. Like needles. She gasped sharply and stared back at him, confused. More mystified than anything else.
Nina shook herself to clear the distraction from her mind. Even Bas’ appeal became academic in face of his injuries. She cleared her mind of what’s in her head right now. Fear. Fear of pain and death, fear of failure. The weight of her new responsibilities. The sick feeling she’ll f— up and let people down. And Bas was not helping her nerves with his stupidly attractive face and his winking.
She focused on his injured hand. Her study of Bas was now a more workmanlike approach; her gaze intense as if cutting into him; mind full of gauze and disinfection. She was firm. Resolved.
She took out her first aid dressings and started to patch up Bas’s hand, smacking a one-shot vial of morphine into the flesh above his wrist first.
With her other hand, she stroked his hair, matted with blood, and then dragged a finger carefully down the slope of his exposed cheek. Blood from a head wound dribbled down his cheek. This is it. His head must be pulsing and—
“I’ll try not to hurt you," Nina said gently. Her voice was just a soft murmur. Her breathing dropped to a very low rate.
“Easy does it and—"
Nina broke off. She had bent down and helped Bas, stripping off his constricting shirt. At the sight of his battered torso—tattoo’d and starting to stretch out with the bulk of a man—her guts tightened. She knew, long before she actually saw his body, that his ribs were broken; ruptured and collapsed; luckily not puncturing his lungs. He was miraculously alive but definitely, not intact... Was he scared? She would be!
And his chest… his arms… a fight had not done that. He had made those fearful, lifetime marks. Given that, from the rate of infections on ink’d patients at the Guardian, most tattoo shops in the district had difficultly differentiating its ass from its elbows, these were rather professionally and nicely done in Nina’s opinion.
“So tell me,” she said quietly, lining up her next shot of morphine. “Who did your tattoos?” she smiled and nodded. “We need to re-set your ribs so they heal. I’m sure you’ll agree."
She saw the look in his eyes and added sweetly. “Hold still, Bas angel.”
See! She could flirt, too.
Nina