One was definitely kicking ass. She was pretty sure that if she'd gone to college for that, she'd have a PHD within a year.
Another usually was keeping her own ass from getting kicked.
Sadly, the third was plain old getting herself in deep trouble and that was what she was best at right now.
Otacon's labcoat had made all the difference, though it didn't keep out the wind entirely-- she was still shivering even as she shuffled over to Otacon like a kid being told to come eat their lima beans. Not that she was against being patched up, no-- she knew damn well what she looked like. Didn't even need to see her reflection-- she could just feel it.
"I can uh... probably do a lot of it myself," she mumbled dully, sitting down crosslegged, clutching the baggy coat around her like a blanket. "M'used to patching myself up..."
But she was in no state to argue, so chances were she'd wind up just sitting there and trying not to squirm while Otacon did his handiwork.
Cujo, happily oblivious to the lecture his state had caused Nurse Joy to smack down Rise with, gambolled and pranced alongside his savior, still looking worn-out and dirty but light years better than he'd been a moment ago.
On more than one occasion, Rise may have needed to stop him from attempting to play a loving game of tug-of-war with her sleeves. Their arrival on the edge of camp prompted Heather to turn her head a little to see them while in the midst of getting one of those butterfly bandages stuck to a nasty gouge above one eyebrow-- only to wince and then hold still. Owww moving hurrrttt ow ow ow.
no subject
One was definitely kicking ass. She was pretty sure that if she'd gone to college for that, she'd have a PHD within a year.
Another usually was keeping her own ass from getting kicked.
Sadly, the third was plain old getting herself in deep trouble and that was what she was best at right now.
Otacon's labcoat had made all the difference, though it didn't keep out the wind entirely-- she was still shivering even as she shuffled over to Otacon like a kid being told to come eat their lima beans. Not that she was against being patched up, no-- she knew damn well what she looked like. Didn't even need to see her reflection-- she could just feel it.
"I can uh... probably do a lot of it myself," she mumbled dully, sitting down crosslegged, clutching the baggy coat around her like a blanket. "M'used to patching myself up..."
But she was in no state to argue, so chances were she'd wind up just sitting there and trying not to squirm while Otacon did his handiwork.
Cujo, happily oblivious to the lecture his state had caused Nurse Joy to smack down Rise with, gambolled and pranced alongside his savior, still looking worn-out and dirty but light years better than he'd been a moment ago.
On more than one occasion, Rise may have needed to stop him from attempting to play a loving game of tug-of-war with her sleeves. Their arrival on the edge of camp prompted Heather to turn her head a little to see them while in the midst of getting one of those butterfly bandages stuck to a nasty gouge above one eyebrow-- only to wince and then hold still. Owww moving hurrrttt ow ow ow.
"Hey Rishe."
Cotton balls in mouth. 8(