[log] I JUST DIIIIIED IN YOUR ARMS TONIIIIIIGHT [closed]

[devoutish]

Characters: Alfie Solomons, Emily Kaldwin, Fiona, Royce Melborn
Location building 41
Date: evening of 157 through morning of 158
Summary: Alfie bleeds to death in the blood house, for maximum Snowhell fun
Warnings: graphic injury, death and dying

Step into the only remaining room in this house and you'll be in for a shock--at first blush, it looks like you've stepped into a room that has blood all over the floor and walls. Look closer, though, and it's actually paint. This was once an artist's studio, judging by the canvases stacked up in the corner. It seems like there were paintings on the canvases once, but now they're muddy or blacked out entirely by thick paint. Some of the paint on the walls has been scraped away, revealing yet more paint. Some of the canvases have had their paint scraped off, or have been taken apart entirely.

Comments

[bywolves]

[ Royce closes his eyes. ] No. I know you know.

[ This is bad enough that even the mania can't take over. Another slow, even, breath, and then, in that same tense and angry voice: ] I don't know what to do for you. I'm not good at this.

[devoutish]

Can't do much. It's not your fault.

[He lets out a breath, then:]

Leave all my things on me. You'll lose them if I don't come back, but I don't wanna end up like last time.

[bywolves]

[ It's not his fault. That sticks, quietly, in the back of his mind, and he'll think about it later. ]

Right. [ Because they both know he's going to die. He doesn't want to assume Alfie is going to come back. It's too much to hope for a second time. His tone is shitty and condescending when he replies, but - it cracks, too, halfway through, which is incredibly annoying. ] Last thing you do is lose my damn letter opener. Of course.

[devoutish]

Take the fucking letter opener. Leave the food and warm clothing.

[bywolves]

[ No, he's supposed to - argue more. Royce finally looks at Alfie, expression hard to read under the hood. ]

... No. You keep it. [ He doesn't deserve it this way. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie grunts.]

-- Vicodin. In my bag. Give me two of them, yeah?

[He's extremely wary of taking too many, but surely this is a special case. One time when he's literally dying isn't going to put him on the path of forming a habit.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce doesn't hesitate with that. He goes for the bag and pulls the Vicodin out, as well as water. He moves back to Alfie's side, and reaches to touch, to rest a hand on Alfie's arm. ]

Sit up. Just enough to take it and drink. Let me help.

[devoutish]

[Alfie grunts again, and rests his own hand on top of Royce's, very briefly. He grits his teeth hard when he's moved up, but doesn't make any noise.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce is gentle here, at least. He can't do a whole lot to make it not hurt, but he tries. He helps Alfie with the Vicodin and the water, expression flat, and he doesn't bother being weird or averse to touch. This is not a situation in which he needs to be.

Once he's finished, he grabs his pillow and tucks it under Alfie's head, as Alfie's laying back down. ]

[devoutish]

Thanks, mate.

[He closes his eyes for a moment, hoping the Vicodin will start to work fast.]

That's strong stuff. It might knock me out early.

[bywolves]

You're welcome. [ Royce answers quietly. ] Better if it does, since you refused my offer. Doesn't matter. I'm not moving.

[devoutish]

I wish it wasn't just one fucking room.

But you'll stay here - good. Yeah.

[bywolves]

If it wasn't one room, would you let me end it for you?

[devoutish]

[He shakes his head.]

Couldn't stomach it. Not for this.

[bywolves]

Don't -- [ Royce chokes a little, a huff of an amused sound. ] Please tell me that wasn't an intentional pun.

[devoutish]

[It hadn't been, but Royce calling it out makes him laugh painfully, his hand going back to his stomach.]

A bit of gallows humor, yeah.

[bywolves]

[ Royce coughs out another laugh, rubbing at his face, sliding his hand back through his hair. He lets his hand drop back down, and then looks down at Alfie. ]

Gallows humor in a room that looks like this. You have Death's comedic timing.

[devoutish]

It's paint, isn't it?

[He hasn't been able to investigate, for obvious reasons. Tell him it's just paint, Royce.]

[bywolves]

It's paint. [ Royce bites his tongue. Paint and blood, now, but. ] Thank Mar.

[devoutish]

Paint.

[Good. Excellent. That's a relief.]

Paint, all right.

[bywolves]

[ There's a long pause, and then Royce tries again. He's trying really hard to make this easier, but it's hard to think when his chest is tight like this, when it's hard to form words without choking on them. ]

You need to come back. [ He says finally, softer. He knows Fiona and Emily are going to hear but he just. Has to say it. ]

[devoutish]

What are the odds for coming back a second time? I can't fucking remember. I've got a head for numbers, but--

[He's pretty woozy right now.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce tells him the odds because I don't know and I'm too lazy to look. It's less than the first time around. ] Odds don't matter. If House can come back as many times as he has, you can as well.

[devoutish]

Odds are odds. They're beatable, but I'm not gonna pretend--

You should take some of the weapons. Leave me all the clothes and blankets, but take some supplies.

[bywolves]

[ But then that makes it more real. ]

You'll need them if you come back. [ Royce says a little sharply. ] I don't need your supplies, Solomons, don't. Don't.