nysalogs | april catch-all.

[ The rest of the house is quiet, save for the sound of someone moving about and putting on the tea. Bruce prefers it as quiet as possible, but in a place where anything can creep in and stay under the skin, it helps to know there's someone else there. Someone to keep it away. ]

[ He's rediscovered that instinct. It feels better than he remembers. ]

Tea.

[ Quietly, as he sets the tray down on the bedside table. ]

[ He chooses the bed: sheets are easier to change and wash than cushions, and it lets him stretch. ]

I can manage.

[ He's never seemed like a guy looking for an out, but Bruce offers it anyway. ]

[ A hundred things he could tell her, all the first things that come to mind absolve her of blame. It's always been the truth, that he's the mortal, vulnerable one. That even with her strength on his side death is still a certainty. He can't circumvent death of the body. But since the day they became partners the plan hatched in his mind: how to last beyond death. How to keep a promise to stay beside her even as his mortality stood against him. Bruce never believes anything is impossible, and nothing is, for Bruce Wayne. It's only ever a matter of time. ]

Tim's in stasis, [ he says, soft and wounded. ] I'm sorry there wasn't more time.

[Hunting. Rumlow had participated in his fair share of survival exercises and even gone on plenty of hunting trips. It was easy to simply fall in line behind Bruce and ease his way in the man's wake. It seemed to him that a deer was a bit of a large kill for one - even two - guys. He personally was an excellent shot when it came to rabbits.

However, he was here to check on up Bruce, make certain the guy was getting on since the big incident. He didn't say anything - wouldn't want to spoil the hunting - and he was content to observe how Bruce ran a hunting exposition like this anyway Two guys killing something to eat; that was life at its most simple and at times most pleasant.]

[ It's without fail his favourite kind. Hunting, just him, just blood and teeth at the end of it. Bruce has a taste for violence, all his anger is given over to strangers, who bear it with broken bones and a terror for things that move in the dark. ]

[ Bruce leads the moment he senses the man at his rear, alert, holding his crossbow. He simply gestures at Rumlow to fall in line beside him, instead of behind. The deer will slow down soon, and they'll have to move more silently. ]

I know. [ This much is obvious: Alan Foster (If That Is Your Real Name) is a uniquely capable individual. Jim doesn't doubt he can patch himself up, but since he decided to crash Jim's pad to do it in, he gets to endure a little attention over it.

Besides, things are always a little sturdier when they aren't done upside down.

No line or suggestive eyebrows about the older man being in his bed; he's shot Jim down a couple times so far, and while he wasn't overly serious about the kneejerk flirtations, no still means no. He pulls a chair up beside so he can see what he's doing. ]

You expose it to anything weird?

[ No lines about the choice or how swiftly the math was done. It slots into place with his other observations. ]

No, they're just lacerations.

[ Just lacerations. Like just a broken spine too, the only thing to do with constant pain is to be cavalier about it. ]

[Rumlow wasn't equipped to hunt a deer, not really. He had a sidearm and a knife, but neither of those were hunting weapons. Still useful, but he would hate to have to waste a bullet on a kill at this point; he didn't have much ammunition left.

Still, he settled walking next to Bruce, his eyes and ears strained to listen for sound of the deer. He was trying to determine the direction it was heading, so he could branch off and push it more towards Bruce for a shot, but that would come a bit later.]

Made with sterile blades, huh? [ Not actually giving him shit, there's a kind of humor in the casual question. That's not him asking, really, it's Bones, though the doctor would be spitting acid. Jim, personally, understands.

Anyway, thanks for getting tagged in such an intimate part of your body, birdman. Jim peels back the shredded opening in his trousers, has to cut away a little more to get a clear enough space to clean the gash. The items in his medkit aren't the same ones from the survival kit handed out at the station - home-made packets of this and that, cobbled together with items from Thesa and his own knowledge of chemistry.

He's not a professional, but he's serviceable medic. Steady, though not legendary, hands. ]

[ A kind of humor. A kind of understanding buried in that too — what the fuck, man. Serves him right for breaking into this room, of all rooms. He's got nothing in this world but all these things that crawl in uncomfortably, they simmers in his veins. He wishes for venom. ]

[ Alfred would have a few choice words. It helps to feel them. ]

[ Anyway. Bruce tears off part of the sleeve, looking curiously at a small cut that looks like a simple graze, but it's genuinely almost healed. ]

Do you have another needle?

You want stitches?

[ Jim glances up, eyebrows knitted together slightly. ] I have one, yeah.

[ That he hadn't planned on using. He flops the medkit on the older man's stomach. Enjoy. Meanwhile he's going to use tape to hold a portion of the gash on his leg together and apply ... something. It'll probably feel like skin glue, move like skin glue, but it's somewhat miraculously holding a lot better as it dries. Not as efficient or effective as a regen, but better than stitches. ]

Unless you had a —

[ New sensation. Boyish wonder is well beyond him in a world that no longer held much wonder, but intense curiosity leads to the look, the silence as he watches the skin glue. Softer, ]

— better idea.

[ His hand had reached for the needle, trusting what was familiar, but it hasn't done more than that. Jesus, Jim must think this is the Stone Ages, if he's got this on his hands. ]

What's that?

A protein-modified octyl cyanoacrylate, [ Jim says, testing to make sure the first portion has set before moving on to a lower part. The smell will probably be hitting Alan any second now, an unpleasant burning plastic undercut with something a little like ginger. ] In this instance it's a polymerizing bacteriostat. And I definitely overcooked it... [ he pokes the warped edge of the first stripe, gently, with a pinkie finger, watching it turn a little orange. ] Usually it's superheated briefly with actual medical equipment but I just used a phaser and.. [ mumble. ]

It's fine, though. I've used it and I'm allergic to like, half the binders in medication that exist, and it was alright.

[ His nose wrinkles briefly, cataloguing it. Wound adhesive. Bruce waits a moment before pressing on the skin around it with care, so he can see how it's sealed up. ]

You don't happen to know a John Watson, over at the Sanctuary?

[ A bullet's wasted on this kind of kill anyway. Arrows will do, so will knives, when it comes to that. He signals to Rumlow to circle around, pleased he's already looking for the opening (good, the less people he has to train into this kind of teamwork, the better), when the deer have stopped to drink. Drive them to him, and this will be over in a flash. ]

No. Should I?

[ There's still some blood oozing where it's not patched up yet, so Jim's careful, making sure it's as clean as he can get it before spreading the gloop on. ]

This is just chemistry, [ Jim says absently. It's not actual medical care, it's a bandage. ] But at least if you pull it, you won't also rip open perforated edges on your skin.

[ If Alan is starting to think that humanity eventually decided stitches are super unsafe and unhygienic, he'd be correct. ]

He'll be happy to know this.

[ Given that John's complaints have largely been about how medicine is practiced here, locally. Imagine there'd be a lot to talk about for what happens in the future. ]

Even if it is "just chemistry".

[ Bruce knows the apothecaries for more than needing to expose himself to their drugs, he's substituted several types of pharmaceuticals using as many of the local ingredients as possible. Better painkillers, sleep aids — his own anti-anxiety meds are safely replenished when all of that was done. ]

[He noted the signal as he disappeared into the foliage, moving quietly and slowly around until he could catch sight of the deer drinking. He eased into position carefully, aware that he could startle it in the wrong direction if it picked up his scent. He looked in the directions that it could go, but the easiest path was directly back towards Bruce.

He waited, and then clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth to raise the deer's attention in his direction. Then he rose slow and easy before charging out like predator (or maybe a madman), driving the deer back down the path.]

Sure, just give me his contact info. [ Slightly wry, because it is just chemistry-- chemistry that he's considered sharing with natives, honestly, but he's not sure how Violating The Prime Directive that would be, or how badly mis-managed attempts might go. He's willing to play medical meth lab with himself, but other people? MMm. ]

Alright, tiger. [ It should sound flirtatious; it doesn't. ] Sit still for a few minutes to let it cure. Shouldn't take so long on any smaller ones.

Sure.

[ His phone is securely in a pocket on his belt, a quick unlock and Jim's pings with a new message to John's inbox. ]

No, that's enough. They'll heal.

[ suspiciously?? quickly?? He can't justify using this when they're going to seal up the moment he's in the same room as Diana. ]

Alright.

[ You weirdo is silently implied.

And so, Jim is just ... going to clean up, now, because it's not like tall dark and spooky came to socialize. (It's also not like Jim doesn't still think he's pretty cute FOR THE RECORD he's just not that kind of guy when someone is radiating Fuck Off. This is only slightly a mixed signal, for how much Jim recognizes competency.) ]

[ There's a sticky sort of silence his end, Bruce isn't really in the neighbourhood for thank yous. Most people aren't so calm when a random guy breaks into their house and bleeds all over their floor, but he expected nothing like that from Jim. It's good to have it in front of him. Good to rely on — ]

[ Shit. Feelings are an instant bye, Bruce is gone when Jim turns around. ]

Thank you.

[She says it quietly, reaching for a cup and wrapping her fingers around it. It's warm, and she draws her legs up, putting her knees to her chest.]

I could get used to you waiting on me like this.

I'd rather you didn't.

[ Even, firm. It's not something to challenge him on — or ask of him very much, it's not especially in his nature. He is not a continuous, watchful keeper unless it's from a distance. ]

april catch-all.

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memory share.