Raleigh Becket (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
righthemisphere) wrote2014-02-16 05:24 pm
righthemisphere) wrote2014-02-16 05:24 pm
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You've reached Raleigh Becket, please leave a message.
You've reached Raleigh Becket, please leave a message.
You've reached Raleigh Becket, please leave a message.
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"1967. But there's gotta be something or someone who can check you out. I mean it, Becket. Ask around."
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He just nods.
"Yeah, I will." Tapping his fingers absently on the glass before he shakes his hands out and rests them in his lap.
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“Why do you shake your hands like that?”
He’s watching raleigh very carefully, scrutinizing his every move. Something isn’t right here. At all.
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"Because they hurt, Chuck."
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He can tell the shortness isn’t directed at him. Still. He’s a prickly fucker so it does rankle a bit.
He decides to be more direct.
“Are you physically injured?”
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He crosses his arms and gives the man a look back.
“Show me. I have a first aid kit, Raleigh.”
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He's trying really hard not to be an asshole about it but today just isn't the day. Chuck is trying to help. He understands that. It's just frustrating.
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“There’s ointment and shit in it. Show me, Ray. I know you’re hurting but lemme help. I can help.”
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The left is bad but it's old. The right is new and swollen and disgusting, trailing from neck to wrist and then down across his chest and side before disappearing under the waistband of his sweatpants.
He turns, holding his arms out like are you happy now. It's all over his back as well. Something dark is looking out from his waistband on the back of his right hip, but it's ink and nothing to do with the damage.
"Ta daa" flat.
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"Jesus," he says again, exasperated as the kettle starts to wail, pulling it off and filling the mug. "Drink this, and stay put. I'll be right back."
He's going to go get some shit for you. Fucks sake, Becket. Do you now know how to take care of yourself? At ALL?
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Raleigh opens his mouth to argue but closes it again and sinks down in his seat. Is he sulking? Yes.
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Good boy. Sit. Drink your tea. Chuck will be back in half an hour with an armload of stuff. Clothes, the first aid kit, etc. you are such a stubborn idiot, Raleigh.
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But to Raleigh's credit he's still at the table and he's drank his tea- resting his head on the table cushioned my his arms. He could almost sleep. He wants to. So badly. But he doesn't have a prayer.
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Chuck is probably loaded on caffeine and wigging out because he can’t sleep, either. But he’s gonna take care of you, Raleigh.
Chuck Let’s himself back in, hauling the big backpack and some clothes in a bag.
“Okay, so. I have ointments, some muscle cream, and a couple pain relievers, which I think you need. I also brought you some of my shirts and jeans. I think... we get free clothes here? But I’m not sure where to go yet on that. But until we work it out or I make enough to buy us some this’ll do.”
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They've been pretty friendly since they got here.. they were kinda starting to find good footing before that.. but this is. Like actual friends, stuff. He is very vulnerable today and he doesn't know how he's liking being seen.
"I got through it last time, I'll be okay."
"You don't have to do all this, Chuck. Seriously, it's too much."
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"Ray, relax. Let me do this. I signed up for F.E.A.R., remember? If it makes you feel better think of it as me doing my job. Protecting the people. Making sure they don't do stupid shit like leave untreated injuries to rot."
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Be grateful. It's just difficult for him to accept it and not feel like he's being pitied.
Sure he dealt with it alone last time but it was bad. It was really bad. Really really... Really bad.
"They're not rotting." He says instead, looking over his shoulder to see. They definitely are going septic, especially where his blisters have rubbed against fabric.
Ngh. Maybe Chuck has a point. The surface wounds are he least of his pain and they sting and they're awful but they've only been one layer of annoyance in what's been a very bad pain day.
A sigh. He scrubs his face with his hands. Stupid, stupid trembly hands.
"Okay.." giving in. "What've you got."
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"This all looks pretty fuckin' bad. I need to disinfect it, treat it, and bandage it. 'S probably gonna hurt something bloody awful. So try not to cuss at me too much."
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"No promises," but he will try.
If he stepped back and thought about he would recognize this as Chuck needing the distraction just as much as Raleigh needs the help. Maybe tomorrow if he feels a little better. Right now he's mostly just embarrassed that this is happening to begin with and let's Chuck go about his work.
He hisses and flinches with a fist a few times but manages not to jerk back or swing out of kneejerk reaction. Instead he slaps his hand on the table with a growl. It makes his hand radiate with pain and he yelps, holding it against his chest instead with a hissed, filthy string of language.
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Chuck knows it hurts. He had much lighter burns from the EMP blast, but they were nothing like this.
"Didn't know you had a mouth like that on ya," he says, trying to distract him. Christ Raleigh you let this get bad.
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