snowblindrpg | [log] it's just good business [closed]

Entry tags:

[log] it's just good business [closed]

Characters: John & Squalo
Location: 182
Date: Late day 288 - early day 289
Summary: Out of the goodness of his heart, Dr. Watson decides to help out a newbie. Said newbie is, unfortunately, unfamiliar with the concept of gratitude.
Warnings: Nothing wild, unless I need to warn for brawling and swearing.

[ The second day of trekking through the snow somehow seems even more difficult than the first one. Maybe because even with the miracle of hot water, Squalo never really managed to fully get rid of the first travel's chill, as if it had settled deep inside his bones. Or maybe it was just because now he knew what it was going to be, the next several hours of agony with no choice but to endure it. ]

[ Where were all the planes to Bahamas when you really needed them? ]

[ By the time he reaches his destination, still empty for now, he's pretty sure he can't feel his anything, and he both amuses and annoys himself considering what kind of shit would Belphegor tell him if he'd lost his voice because of a cold. There's nothing to start a fire with, which may be for the best as he'd probably burn himself before warming up, but walls and a roof over his head do help; without the wind and the snow he soon starts feeling slightly more alive. ...which means, his face suddenly hurts like a bitch and for once he's not inclined to immediately check it out. Hey, at least he could always work the colour blue. ]

[ But it only takes minutes of relative piece for the uneasiness to set in, soon followed by the slightest hint of panic. He was going to die here, wasn't he, completely uselessly and without glory, and Xanxus was going to choke on a goddamn cheeseburger and cut his reign short because of his own stupidity and nobody being there to call him out on it. And Squalo's forced to wait for some kind of goddamn stranger's kindness and that makes him feel more sick than the frostbite does. Speaking of which, where the fuck was he? Was he even going to show up at all, or did he simply send him this way to know where he could loot a corpse in a few more days? Over his dead body, literally, and there was no way he was going to rely on someone else's generosity when he could just -- ]

[ There's something outside that sounds suspiciously like footsteps approaching, and Squalo goes still for a moment, listening. This could either be the guy he agreed to meet, someone else, or one of those monsters that he was not supposed to go against. Two of these options offered supplies, and another a quick way out, He quickly scans over the debris littering the floors; spotting something that looks like a bigger half of a chair he picks it up, weighs it, and sneaks toward the door, waiting for it to open. ]

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[John sighs in relief when he spots the entrance to the apartment. It's been a very long day of crawling and climbing to get here. He takes a moment to center himself before knocking and then opening the door.]

Squalo? It's John.

[He has two packs, one on his back and one flipped around like a shield on his front. He's also using a shovel as a walking stick, the heavy metal end pointing up.]

[ Well, that answers one question. ]

[ For a split second, Squalo's a little torn. This guy was friendly, right? It was useful to make cozy with people in a place like this. But then, he wouldn't kill him. Surely that would count as "friendly". And he clearly had more than he was offering. ]

[ His fingers painfully clench around the painted wood. Do or don't? ]

[ The door opens, and the inital instinct wins out; he smashes the chair piece into the figure in the doorway as hard as he can, followed by a full-body lunge to try to knock his guest off his feet. ]

[ Of course, there's also a few little details that don't work entirely in Squalo's favor. With what a presence this "John" seemed to be on the network, Squalo unwittingly presumes him to be taller, and so what is meant as a debilitating dick blow ends up hitting him somewhere higher around the middle. Which could still be somewhat effective, but the makeshift weapon catches on one of the hobo bags, again unpredicted, causing the initial attack to be more of a warning than proper engagement. ]

Edited 2017-10-21 11:25 (UTC)

[Another factor working against Squalo is John's generally hypervigilant tendencies when entering into a new area. He's still a small--and underweight at this point--man, though, which means a chair knocks him over and onto the ground, losing his shovel as he catches himself and hisses with pain.

There's really no chance for an easy recovery, although John's hand goes up to a quick release he's rigged for his packs, even as he lashes out for Squalo's legs with one heel. He's aiming for a knee to get the man down, but he's also kicking a bit wildly.]

[ Most people Squalo had assaulted were not trained soldiers, even if they were fighters. They were not necessarily hard to surprise. ]

[ This is different, and Squalo's not disappointed. In fact, he's excited to see the other man counterattacking so swiftly considering the circumstances. He manages to move himself just enough to avoid a broken kneecap, already grinning like a maniac, but the kick still sends him stumbling to the floor. Of course, he does his best to weigh John down and pin him to the ground as he does so. ]

Don't take it so personally.

Edited 2017-10-21 17:10 (UTC)

Seriously?

[There's incredulity in John's tone as Squalo comes down over top of him. With his packs released, it gives John more to work with, and as the man comes down, John grabs for a scalpel in his pocket and moves to press it against the other man's throat.]

If you don't want to need my medical services along with some supplies, mate, you're gonna get off. Now.

Edited 2017-10-21 17:55 (UTC)

[ Fuck. It's a fucking tiny knife and he's being totally outgunned right now. He can barely feel the edge pressing against his skin, still too cold to regain proper sense, but there's no reason to doubt its sharpness. ]

[ A helpful doctor's ability to ruthlessly stab him in the throat, however? He's willing to go a little va bank with that. There's another flash of teeth. ]

I'll be damned, you've got some fancy shit.

[ And he moves his arm, the robotic one, to try and grip on the wrist that's holding the scalpel. If John hesitates, even for a moment, Squalo expects it'll be enough for him to pull the scalpel away; if not... Well. He's fucked. How much, depends on exactly how deep the good doc plans on shoving that thing in. ]

[John might be a helpful doctor, but he's also a soldier who's been in more life-or-death situations here than just about anywhere else in his life. He doesn't hesitate, but he doesn't aim to kill, either. John has a surgeon's knowledge working on his side. He'll try to cut a moderately deep wound up into the underside of Squalo's jaw.

When the metal hand grabs hold of him, John won't resist being pulled away, either, but will attempt to roll them, now that Squalo doesn't have an immediate brace with his arm on that side.]

Fuck --

[ Alright, he misjudged, if maybe not entirely, as he would be choking on the contents of his jugular right now otherwise. He growls in frustration as he tips easily without the support of his arm, but at least he's trapped that goddamn scalpel. ]

[ He expects to break the other's bones easily, but no matter how much he tenses the muscles in his arm, he doesn't hear that lovely crack. Was his grip not strong enough? Did the cold somehow damage his hand? There's definitely a hint of confusion on his face when he finally locks eyes with the other man. ]

[ Was he... actually losing? ]

[ He struggles and attempts a headbutt, whether John's close enough for it or not. ]

[While Squalo might not be breaking bone, it's painful enough to make John drop the scalpel. Which is bad. It's especially bad when Squalo's head connects with John's child.]

Jesus! Would you just-- Christ!

[The man is already bleeding. John doesn't want to hurt him more, but Squalo is really forcing his hand here. His free hand, specifically. Unless Squalo defends against it, John will aim to bring the heel of his palm crashing into Squalo's nose to break it. Mostly, it's designed to be excruciatingly painful, but relatively harmless.]

[ He should be familiar with the whole "there's no giving up when fighting for your life" thing, even if it's not exactly that dire in here right now. Old habits die hard and all. ]

[ The clatter of scalpel hitting the floor is like music to his ears. Squalo does try to block that strike with his right, having noticed it at the last moment, but it still connects, if with less force than it would've otherwise. There's still a small spray of blood and he reels back in pain, letting go of John out of reflex. ]

[ What the other doesn't know, however, is that after literal years of similar abuse and having his face bashed into solid surfaces, Squalo is pretty damn good at getting over it quickly. He kicks at the other man, trying to get him off, and grasps around for the scalpel. ]

[ It sure is a bitch that he has to raise his head to see where it actually is since he can't feel it with the fake hand, which costs him another second. ]

[Why is every bloody person here except John seemingly immune to having their nose broken? Joker, Bucky, this man. John remembers seeing stars the last time that happened to him. It's entirely unfair. But there's really no time to dwell on that.

The kicking is mostly irritating, and John just shifts forward to straddle Squalo's waist. When the man's head comes up, John uses the distraction to reach into his other pocket and pull out a boxcutter. He really does have all the toys after an age here. He flicks the blade out and bears down on Squalo. If the man tries to block him with his flesh hand, John will move his own free hand to push it away so that he can set his blade right next to Squalo's eye, nestled up against the bridge of his nose. This worked to get Alfie to settle down.]

Keep moving, and you'll be losing an eye, son. I'm a surgeon. I'm really good at removing bits and pieces without killing you. Get your hands up and then tell me what the hell you think you're doing. I came to give you some supplies, not get into a bloody brawl.

Edited 2017-10-22 17:12 (UTC)

[ Long story short, Squalo has an abusive ~~boyfriend~~ boss back home. It's pretty surprising he still has all his teeth, honestly, but the advanced medical technology in his world may have helped with that. ]

[ Also, you know, the whole psychopath thing. ]

[ Squalo goes still, whether intimidated or calculating, his left hand spread inches from the lost scalpel. To end up in this kind of situation is humiliating. But he also has options here. There's being brave, and there's being stupid, and there's literally no reason for him to get his beautiful face disfigured without trying the other ones. ]

[ And he's already tested this guy before. He can definitely go for what he's saying, and he's likely not lying about the surgeon thing either. ]

[ Slowly, keeping an eye on that unnerving blade point just to be sure he's not being tricked, Squalo moves his hands upwards, a skew smirk still on his face despite him bleeding from several places. It's almost a little unsettling, that resigned amusement. ]

I give, I give. Hey, can you blame me for tryin'?

Yes.

[John is not the least bit amused at the moment.]

You want to tell me why you were trying in the first place? Because I'm seriously reconsidering giving you anything but a couple of stitches to clean up your jaw.

[ Wow what a sullen guy. He can fight, however, which means Squalo is holding him in a certain level of respect from this point on. ]

[ He turns his head a bit to cough and get rid of the blood that had run up his nose. ]

You seriously gotta ask? Thought you're selling me short. 'Nd looks like I was right.

[ He gestures vaguely at the pile of bags and two goddamn bladed weapons with slight tilt of his head, still keeping his hands put. No need to provoke the vicious tiny man further unnecessarily. ]

[John narrows his eyes on the blood for a moment, considering whether he needs to get Squalo's wounds tended to now or later.]

I offered you the clothes I could spare for what you need. There's a man who had to crawl through the snow and is probably gonna lose parts of his face and fingers to frostbite because of it. And I don't hand out weapons. Those you find on your own.

Edited 2017-10-22 18:07 (UTC)

Why not? You've got more than you need.

[ Not that, you know, having multiples totally just saved his skin or anything. Squalo is more concerned about the frostbite though, judging from the way his expression shifts to that of mild terror when John mentions it. ]

Because I don't like people having weapons when they attack me.

[John switches hands on the boxcutter and then reaches out to grab the scalpel.]

Are you gonna keep attacking me, or are we gonna play nice so I can patch you up and get you some warm clothes?

That does make sense.

[ Squalo's tone may be mildly regretful, and he's totally trying to slip that scalpel into his sleeve with unexpected grace. John's evil clutches descending on it makes him feel about as wronged as a kid who tried to grab the whole cookie jar and leg it. ]

[ Nonetheless, his other offer is also tempting, so he'll let him have it, if looking clearly displeased all the while. ]

Are you gonna get that thing out of my face?

[John stares down as Squalo for a long moment.]

If either of my blades have to come out again because you're attacking me, I'll be taking one of your ears with me. All right? Right.

[He pulls the boxcutter away and flicks it closed before pocketing both it and the scalpel and getting up. John offers his hand down to Squalo.]

I've got some real food, as well. Not much, but it'll be better than the ration bars they gave you to start. First I want to stitch you up before you bleed much more.

[ And Squalo stares back, apparently completely disinterested in that offered hand, until the boxcutter retreats. It had been humiliating enough to get put on his back, he was not going to graciously accept help like an old pal. Maybe that's what he's thinking while he's so perfectly still, or maybe -- ]

[ He sneezes, and John will get a delightful piece of spray art comprised of snot, blood and spit right across his palm (but look on the bright side, at least it's ~~probably~~ not his face). ]

[ Then he pushes himself up, bringing one sleeve up to try and wipe his nose off and immediately grimaces on contact. Not to mention that the leather does little to clean him up and instead just smears everything to look even more grotesque. The red contrasts starkly against his hair and skin. ]

What's black and blue and red all over?

[ He's being fucking hilarious, thanks. But more importantly -- ]

If you're just sayin' that to make me watch you eat it, I'm definitely mugging you again.

[John's a doctor and that's not the worst he's had on him, but it still makes him grimace as he moves over to his pack and fishes a washcloth out of it to wipe his hand, then offers it to Squalo.]

I'm saying that to offer you dinner tonight. Have you never been helped before, or something?

[ He gives the washcloth a suspicious look, too, but he does actually take that one, turning it over and using the unused side to wipe up his face somewhat. Then he presses it to the cut, but it doesn't look like that one will be as easy to dry. He responds a bit grudgingly; ]

I've never needed to be.

[ It's totally a lie, and we're not just talking about the times he was a hairless baby. He's had "friends" more or less save him from death at least thrice, but apparently that did not count. The tundra was totally ruining his track record, not that he'll admit he needs help now either. ]

[John gives him a Look because he doesn't believe that for a moment. People with mindsets like Squalo tend to come in gangs, not individuals.]

Right. Just... give me a minute to get my sewing kit and needle out. D'you have any other injuries while we're taking care of this?

[Might as well get them all attended to if Squalo's hurt himself moving through the tunnels.]

[ Listen it doesn't count when it's his gang, they're like, his body part or something. Though ironically it usually wasn't them saving his ass. ]

[ the grimace he makes at the mention of needle definitely doesn't befit a gangster though. does it haaaaaave to be stitches? ]

Don't think so. Got patched up when I got here. [ he frowns, for a moment just watching John dig around in his ample supplies. ] Why?

[ why are you helping him ]

Because I don't want to have to get my medical supplies out twice. I'll need you to hold the light while I do this, unless you'd like crooked stitching.

[He pulls out the mini-torch he has and offers it to Squalo. John's entirely oblivious to the suspicion related to his actions for now.]

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... child was meant to be chin. Thank you, autocorrect.

My brain must have translated it, so no harm done.

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