Hansel didn't run for his gun or motion to attack her and that was all the invitation Andi needed to get back to her feet and approach him, carefully side stepping bits of broken glass and odds an ends littering the ground beneath her. The closer she got to Hansel, the more she could tell just how gruesome the fight with Theo had been. She kept her eyes trained on Hansel, still wary that he might try something the closer she got, but mostly making a conscious effort not to look at Theo or, rather, what was left of him.
Once she was close enough, she quickly retrieved a wrinkled shirt from her duffel, as well as the first aid kit the terrorists had provided. She knew next to nothing about first aid aside from the general stuff; clean the wounds, change the bandages every so often, stuff even the short bus kids would know. Hansel was in bad shape, though, and if he didn't get his shit taken care of, she'd be down a pawn and she surely couldn't have that.
"Here," she said, handing him the shirt and attempted to keep her voice even as she looked at damage dotting his body, though it proved hard past the nausea bubbling in her stomach, "You've got shit on your face."
Andi hesitated before dropping to her knees once again, not wanting to give up the power position of standing over his seated form, but she forced the thought to the back of her mind. She couldn't be messing around with some power struggle, not with as unpredictable as Hansel. She had to stay calm, make him trust her.
"Don't worry, we're not friends," She said, half distracted as she rifled through the kit, "But that doesn't mean we can't work together, because as much I hate hate to admit it, and I'm sure you do too, we're not gonna get far alone. Take off your shirt,"
Vaguely, she was aware her hands her shaking as she looked at the various sundries sprawled out in front of her.
"My dad had to work with a lot of shady people when he ran for Mayor. Like, back-alley shady, sometimes, and when I asked him how he could work with people he didn't trust, all he said was that 'sharks didn't eat other sharks'. It makes sense, if you think about it."
It was a lie, she couldn't have cared less about her dad's campaigns growing up, but she needed Hansel to trust her and talking about home seemed like the easiest way to do that.
Fill your hand, you son of a bitch
Private thread.
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NotAFlyingToy
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The shirt felt odd in Hansel's hands, too soft against rapidly drying blood and heavy calluses as she knelt before him. He didn't visibly react, merely lifted his uninjured shoulder as he wiped at the dirt and blood flecked across his skin, smearing the filth onto the shirt.
When she asked him to strip, he paused, face buried in the cloth, before slowly lowering the shirt to meet her eyes with narrowed ones. When he saw her rummaging through the kit, though, he didn't protest further - unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off. His body was blooming with bruises - his ribs, one right above his hip - as he dropped it beside him, leaned backwards on his hands, and stared at the ceiling.
He listened to her story - sharks don't eat other sharks - and grunted in affirmation. It was a sentiment he could get behind - allies, not friends. He wasn't obligated to give a shit about her, and she wasn't obligated to give one about him.
"Okay," he said, flicking his eyes back to her, the bruising and light muscle of his chest blending together, broken by that curved line of crimson. He let her do her thing, earn her keep.
The bottom line was that he was tired. Tired of running headfirst into fights - or fights running headfirst into him - and getting hurt, putting himself in harm's way for a stupid plan that yielded no fruit. Tired of having a constant fight, day in and day out. Tired of having shit thrown at him.
Just tired.
"Sharks don't eat sharks," he muttered, closing his lids, the image of Theo's caved in skull burned into the back of his mind.
"I like that."
When she asked him to strip, he paused, face buried in the cloth, before slowly lowering the shirt to meet her eyes with narrowed ones. When he saw her rummaging through the kit, though, he didn't protest further - unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off. His body was blooming with bruises - his ribs, one right above his hip - as he dropped it beside him, leaned backwards on his hands, and stared at the ceiling.
He listened to her story - sharks don't eat other sharks - and grunted in affirmation. It was a sentiment he could get behind - allies, not friends. He wasn't obligated to give a shit about her, and she wasn't obligated to give one about him.
"Okay," he said, flicking his eyes back to her, the bruising and light muscle of his chest blending together, broken by that curved line of crimson. He let her do her thing, earn her keep.
The bottom line was that he was tired. Tired of running headfirst into fights - or fights running headfirst into him - and getting hurt, putting himself in harm's way for a stupid plan that yielded no fruit. Tired of having a constant fight, day in and day out. Tired of having shit thrown at him.
Just tired.
"Sharks don't eat sharks," he muttered, closing his lids, the image of Theo's caved in skull burned into the back of his mind.
"I like that."
"Yeah?" Andi asked softly in passing, unsurprised tone, her hands busying themselves with the tools laid out in front of her in a half-hearted attempt to look like she knew what she was doing.
People like Hansel needed constant reassurance and praise, the type that were either so repressed or up their own asses that all you needed to do was say a couple nice things and stroke their egos and they were putty. That said, it wasn't an easily accomplished task for someone like Andi, who'd much rather tell you what you were doing wrong than praise you for what you did right. Tough love, she liked to call it. But if coddling and a stand-in Mommy was all Hansel, who was she to say no? Pride was a thing of the past and she'd lick the earth beneath her at that point if it meant getting further in the game.
"This'll hurt," She said, barely giving him time to brace before wiping an alcohol pad down the length of the wound with more pressure than was likely needed before quickly blowing on it to help it dry faster. Thankfully, her years on the softball team hadn't been the easiest on her body and she was quickly able to identify the butterfly stitches and their intended purpose. Her hands had regained some composure, only shaking slightly as they hovered over his wound as she became more confident the more of the sutures she applied.
"Alright, you're good, bud," She said, leaning back to admire her handiwork . The rest of him look like shit, but that one spot that she'd taken to looked mighty fine if you asked her. "I don't suppose you want me to kiss it better?"
People like Hansel needed constant reassurance and praise, the type that were either so repressed or up their own asses that all you needed to do was say a couple nice things and stroke their egos and they were putty. That said, it wasn't an easily accomplished task for someone like Andi, who'd much rather tell you what you were doing wrong than praise you for what you did right. Tough love, she liked to call it. But if coddling and a stand-in Mommy was all Hansel, who was she to say no? Pride was a thing of the past and she'd lick the earth beneath her at that point if it meant getting further in the game.
"This'll hurt," She said, barely giving him time to brace before wiping an alcohol pad down the length of the wound with more pressure than was likely needed before quickly blowing on it to help it dry faster. Thankfully, her years on the softball team hadn't been the easiest on her body and she was quickly able to identify the butterfly stitches and their intended purpose. Her hands had regained some composure, only shaking slightly as they hovered over his wound as she became more confident the more of the sutures she applied.
"Alright, you're good, bud," She said, leaning back to admire her handiwork . The rest of him look like shit, but that one spot that she'd taken to looked mighty fine if you asked her. "I don't suppose you want me to kiss it better?"
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NotAFlyingToy
- Posts: 323
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Hansel endured Andi's ministrations with a stoic silence, his eyes blankly trained on the rusted out plane as she worked on his pectoral. The numbness that had been invading his veins seeped away slightly as he shifted to allow her easier workspace, trying to ignore the twitchy feeling he got from accepting help.
Help was good. He needed it. He needed it to survive this.
When she made the comment about kissing it better, his gaze snapped to hers, his torso leaning back slightly, hands curling into fists.
"No," was his response, as he shifted, utilizing the wall to get to his feet. He lifted the shirt with two fingers, slipped one arm into it as he walked towards the discarded FAMAS and his bag.
"Seems a good a place as any to hole up," he said over his shoulder, bending towards the gun, picking it up by its strap and letting it dangle away from his body.
"Gonna rest here. I'll take first watch."
Help was good. He needed it. He needed it to survive this.
When she made the comment about kissing it better, his gaze snapped to hers, his torso leaning back slightly, hands curling into fists.
"No," was his response, as he shifted, utilizing the wall to get to his feet. He lifted the shirt with two fingers, slipped one arm into it as he walked towards the discarded FAMAS and his bag.
"Seems a good a place as any to hole up," he said over his shoulder, bending towards the gun, picking it up by its strap and letting it dangle away from his body.
"Gonna rest here. I'll take first watch."
Andi watched as Hansel stood to his feet, biting back the urge to stand herself and match his height, but resigned to packing back up what she'd taken from her first aid kit. A wave of anxiety washed over her once he'd retrieved his gun that she tried to little avail to push back down. He'd proven himself to have a trigger finger and there'd always be that part of her that worried he'd change his mind and shoot her where she sat despite their admittedly shaky alliance. Trust had never been her specialty. She'd be stupid to start now.
"You gonna shoot me if I fall asleep?" She asked evenly, adjusting her gaze from her bag to meet his eyes. She didn't wait for a response before continuing.
"Let me hold on to the bullets. I've already proven myself, you do the same."
Reaching her hand out, she waited, barely able to keep from swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. Demanding things from someone as unpredictable as Hansel was a risk in and of itself, but she as confident that she showed him enough charity that he'd do the same.
"You gonna shoot me if I fall asleep?" She asked evenly, adjusting her gaze from her bag to meet his eyes. She didn't wait for a response before continuing.
"Let me hold on to the bullets. I've already proven myself, you do the same."
Reaching her hand out, she waited, barely able to keep from swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. Demanding things from someone as unpredictable as Hansel was a risk in and of itself, but she as confident that she showed him enough charity that he'd do the same.
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NotAFlyingToy
- Posts: 323
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:49 am
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His reaction was to raise his eyebrows, Hansel's hesitation palpable in the air as he adjusted his grip on the gun, right index finger tapping lightly against the smooth feel of the FAMAS. After a long period, where he watched and studied her, he lifted his right shoulder in an easy, deceptively careless shrug.
"Whatever."
He hit the release clasp on the magazine, letting the black, curved box hit his opposing palm with a soft snick. He took the few short steps towards her, tossing her the magazine when he was close on a low, underhand lob.
He didn't wait to see if she caught it.
"Others are ih-hin there," he said, pointing to his bag, on his way to the mouth of the hangar, "a-hand a lookout's not real handy if he doesn't h-have bullets."
He settled against the corner of the hangar, eyes staring out at the wide open space, his legs splayed in front of him, FAMAS loosely laid over his lap, gaze fighting to not watch his new... partner out of suspicion. He'd have to trust her, for now. Trust that she wouldn't lose the bullets, or scatter them, or club him on the head while he slept.
Trust that she didn't know that there was a round in the chamber.
Trust that he wouldn't have to use it on her.
Yet.
((Hansel Williams, Learned something from yesterday))
"Whatever."
He hit the release clasp on the magazine, letting the black, curved box hit his opposing palm with a soft snick. He took the few short steps towards her, tossing her the magazine when he was close on a low, underhand lob.
He didn't wait to see if she caught it.
"Others are ih-hin there," he said, pointing to his bag, on his way to the mouth of the hangar, "a-hand a lookout's not real handy if he doesn't h-have bullets."
He settled against the corner of the hangar, eyes staring out at the wide open space, his legs splayed in front of him, FAMAS loosely laid over his lap, gaze fighting to not watch his new... partner out of suspicion. He'd have to trust her, for now. Trust that she wouldn't lose the bullets, or scatter them, or club him on the head while he slept.
Trust that she didn't know that there was a round in the chamber.
Trust that he wouldn't have to use it on her.
Yet.
((Hansel Williams, Learned something from yesterday))
The air was thick with reluctance following her request and Andi feared she'd overstepped what little trust they already had in one another, relief coming several too-long, too-quiet moments later when Hansel shrugged the gun from his body, unloaded the magazine, and tossed it to her before making his way to the other side of the hangar. He wasn't one for small talk, it seemed, and she was grateful for that, she didn't have anything to say to him that hadn't already been said and, above all else, she was exhausted. Her body carried the weight of several sleepless nights and, while adrenaline and sheer force of will had kept her going up to that point, it had begun hitting her hard.
Pocketing the clip, she moved to the opposite side of the hangar and reclined with her back against the wall. Both Hansel and Theo were in her view, lined up like dominoes, a wolf and the latest of his prey. She wanted to burn the image into her mind, make sure she always understood what he was capable of and what he'd do to her when the time came, and what she needed to become to make it home.
She couldn't find his eyes under the shadow of his stetson, but she could feel them burning just as large a hole into her.
Trust was key, though. Or, rather, the illusion of trust and he'd offered to take the first watch so while she'd close her eyes, she wouldn't sleep.
There was too much to think about, anyway.
(Andi Victorino, Girl no. 1, continued in...)
Pocketing the clip, she moved to the opposite side of the hangar and reclined with her back against the wall. Both Hansel and Theo were in her view, lined up like dominoes, a wolf and the latest of his prey. She wanted to burn the image into her mind, make sure she always understood what he was capable of and what he'd do to her when the time came, and what she needed to become to make it home.
She couldn't find his eyes under the shadow of his stetson, but she could feel them burning just as large a hole into her.
Trust was key, though. Or, rather, the illusion of trust and he'd offered to take the first watch so while she'd close her eyes, she wouldn't sleep.
There was too much to think about, anyway.
(Andi Victorino, Girl no. 1, continued in...)