snowblindrpg | [network] @ASolomons; text, morning of 374 [open]

Alfie lets out a low whistle, taking the skewer if Rhys will let him. "Beautiful." If he ever needs to stab someone, this will absolutely do the trick. You know, along with all the other stabby things he and Royce have collected. He pulls the pens - two black ones, as promised - out of a coat pocket and tosses them to Rhys.

"And my tea?"

Rhys snags the pens, only slightly slower than usual with his injured side and offers out the wrapped packet, pleased that Alfie seems to like the skewer so much.

"It might be the last for a while, but the convenience store does sometimes have iced tea in bottles, even if it's not the same." It's actually probably a monstrosity to an old-time Brit like Alfie, but Rhys is at least trying to be helpful.

After a moment, he adds, "I can spare a strip of duct tape if you want a better grip on that, for what it's worth." Since he's pretty sure that it's going directly into the 'stabby things' pile anyway. "Otherwise, I think we're pretty much done?" His tone is light, comfortable. Happy with the transaction. Even when he adds, "I'm still curious what it is that you're holding back for the doctors, though."

"Iced tea isn't very appetizing to me, mate," he says dryly. Gross, Rhys. He does perk up in interest at the mention of the duct tape, though.

"Yeah, I'll take some tape; all right. And the doctoring supplies - would you like to see them?"

Rhys holds his hands up in an innocent gesture. "Sorry, I'm being a terrible American." He's not actually sorry. "...I like it with frozen raspberries, when I drink it cold."

He misses raspberries. Fresh ones, right off the vine by the handful.

When Alfie offers to let him see the secret stash, he does his best not to brighten too much. There's a lot of things that Rhys knows damn well that he should not be allowed to get his hands on, but on the other hand, Alfie's already made it clear he won't part with these things for the witch, and knowing that the other man has them would simply be for the sake of information and relaying it to the real medical professionals. (Sour as the idea leaves him)

"That would be great, actually. I'm okay with keeping the important stuff in the hands of the real surgeons and shit, but knowing what's available and from who...if I run into a situation that helps keep things moving and getting to the people they need to get to."

Perfectly reasonable.

Definitely reasonable, but Alfie is still going to keep an eagle eye on Rhys, just in case. He trusts him, but only to a point.

A lot of it is packed away, and he pulls things out one by one, setting them on the ground next to him: some empty, unlabeled medicine bottles, neck and wrist braces, a surgical cap and gloves, gauze and adhesive strips, a reflex hammer. "There are syringes as well," he adds at the end, but those he doesn't take out.

Rhys would think less of Alfie if he wasn't at least a little watchful. Just like Rhys likes Alfie but doesn't completely trust him, the same in return is perfectly fair.

He feels a small knot loosen in his chest, relief at seeing the empty medicine bottles. While he wanted to know if Alfie was carrying...it makes Rhys's life easier that he's not

Or if Alfie's decided that Rhys doesn't need to know if he is. That's fair, too. Either way, it's off Rhys's mind. And even better, now that Rhys knows what Alfie's holding, he feels his pricked pride settle a bit.

"Gotcha. I've got quite a bit of good cotton left, so I've been doing okay. Also, in a pinch, instead of gauze, you can use women's sanitary pads to cover a wound. It absorbs a lot of blood, and out of the wrapper they aren't a hundred percent sterile, but they're a lot cleaner than most things here." He reaches into his smaller bag, and shows a wrapped pad. "Most working bathrooms have them, so I always take a couple. Saved my ass when I got stabbed."

His side is still sore, but he didn't bleed to death and he hasn't gotten an infection. Expertise at work.

He nods slightly to the wrist braces. "Stephen might want to talk to you about a brace, if you have a left-handed one. Just by the way."

The not empty bottles of Vicodin and Tramadol that he's keeping secret say hi, Rhys.

"I've seen these," Alfie says, picking up the pad. He's careful to keep it in the wrapper. "Never needed to use one, and I thought they seemed flimsy." It's definitely good to hear that they're not. "How many have you got on you now? If they're in most of the bathrooms, I don't suppose you could hand this one off for free...?"

Smart man, Alfie. It would make Rhys a little sad if he knew, but also grateful. Temptation is bad enough, but at least it's manageable when he knows he can't get his hands on anything.

"They aren't going to cover a really huge wound, but they absorb more than you think. I mean, that's what they're made to do, and the bag of the pad is a thin layer of plastic, so they keep water out pretty well. The only annoying part is you have to tape them on to really get them to stay."

He looks at the pad, then raises his eyebrows. There's a small smile on his face, indicating this is friendly negotiations, but it's still negotiations.

"Free, huh? Weeeeell, you also wanted some tape on your new stabby thing, right?"

"Yeah. Surely that's not too much, is it?" he says, his voice just as light. "And this, the pad - you can just go out and get another one."

Rhys considers that heavily. Alfie had already skinned him a bit on the pens, but he'd needed them. And Rhys isn't particularly in the mood to bargain hard, but he knows from experience that he can't establish himself as an easy take, either.

His eyebrows are still up when he says pointedly, "Well. I'm only needing to change my bandages every couple of days, now." It's been a little over a week since he's been stabbed. He's been moving around a lot in spite of having a finger-sized hole in his side.

He's also been lucky that he's still a good healer, and that he took care of the wound immediately and carefully, with his own stashed medical supplies.

"I can throw that in, but next time you get something really good? Think of me first. Don't think anyone else who knows what a canny old bastard you are is going to let you get away with this kinda thing." He does grin, though, and takes out his roll of plain silver duct tape, holding out his hand for the skewer. "At least, that's what I'm assuming you want to do with it?"

Satisfied, he tucks the pad away into his bag, handing Rhys the skewer. "Using it as a bandage? I think I'll experiment with it first. Test it with water. But if it's good as you say, then you've given me some valuable information, friend. Some very valuable information." He's done well, is the implication here, and that won't be soon forgotten. He might not think of Rhys first when something good comes in, but he'll definitely be up there on the list.

Rhys takes the skewer back and peels off a tab of the tape, wrapping a secure amount around the base as a grip before tearing off the strip and pinching it secure. Clearly, this is not his first shiv.

"Test it? Dude, no reason to waste a clean one." He shoots a quick glance toward Karkat, not concerned but curious how the teen will react to that he says next.

It's Norfinbury, and life is raw here, but he doesn't want to push anything unnecessary on anyone.

He looks back to Alfie, and lifts his shirt to expose his heavily tattooed chest and stomach and the unwrapped pad taped over his lower side. "I need to change my dressings today anyway. You can see how well it works in action, and I'll show you some water on it without using up a clean one."

No, clearly it is not, and Alfie makes a note of that. You're pretty practiced with weapon-making, Mr. Inoffensive Everyman.

"If they're in every house, then there shouldn't be any problems with using one for testing. I haven't got any dirty ones on hand." But Rhys's idea is also fine by him, so he nods in assent. "Seeing it with the blood on will be all the better."

Hey, it pays to be handy with tools...every sort of tool. And if the context of that happens to be monster-hunting and prison, in no particular order, well, it's just that much more useful in a frozen artctic murder-hell.

"Normally you'd be right, but considering medical supplies are running out, we don't know what's gonna go next, so might as well conserve what we can, right?" He hands the wrapped skewer back with an easy flip, the proper way- handle-first.

He glances around again, then shrugs, leaving it totally up to Alfie. "They are made to soak up blood over the course of several hours, so, uh. Yeah. They definitely do the job." He glances back toward the door. "I usually do it outside since it's cleaner, but it only takes a minute now. Since it's starting to heal up. Whenever you feel like it? Let me know."

"Let's go off now." He nods towards the door. Karkat and Royce can follow if they want. "How long has it been since you changed them last?"

Rhys nods, and grabs his smaller backpack, the one that holds what counts as medical supplies. Going outside to do this in the cold isn't exactly pleasant, but it's kept him away from infection and he plans to keep it that way.

"It's been...bit over a day, maybe? I don't have to change them so often, now, it's been a few days and it's starting to heal pretty well," he comments, waiting at the door for Alfie to move. He knows that the other man has been having trouble: he's patient and making sure that they both get out in one piece. "There was a lot of bleeding at first, but it's okay now. At least, as much as a stab wound can be while it's healing."

He immediately starts to scrub his hands in the cleanest patch of snow he can find, once they're out. Hygiene counts, even if it's improvised.

Alfie moves slowly but steadily, shuffling along and using the walls and his cane for support. Royce gets a nod as they pass by him - he's all right, he doesn't need help.

Outside, he leans against the side of the building a few feet away from Rhys, watching him work. He nods to his snow-wet hands, asking, "You warm up easily after that?" He gets that it's a necessary evil, but even so, he's vicariously wincing a little bit here.

Rhys makes sure that Alfie gets out safely, lingering to be sure the door doesn't close on him. He invited him outside, so he'll take his safety seriously in getting there, before settling in the shelter of the Bunker wall to do his business.

Scrubbing up in the snow is one of Rhys's least favorite parts of the routine he's settled into, but he gives Alfie an easy shrug. At least the weather is nearly above freezing, which makes it a little easier. "I've always run warm, so as long as I keep moving, I can deal with it. It's not fun, but it's better than infection."

He works swiftly and easily, lifting his shirt to get at his heavily tattooed midsection and the maxi pad taped over the wound. He peels it free carefully, revealing the sore-looking but healing stab wound underneath. On the cotton of the pad are multiple splotches of pinkish fluid and spots of blood soaked in, but not through the plastic backing. It looks like the dressing did its job, and without sticking.

"See, no leaking on either side, and doesn't leave fibers behind. It's healing slow, but it's healing."

He's probably more pleased with himself than he should be, but it's a useful contribution to the first aid cause. And if he doesn't have painkillers he's at least going to enjoy a little self-satisfaction.

[network] @ASolomons; text, morning of 374 [open]

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cw: Addiction, menstrual references

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