Midnight Escapade {krystal}

[Jun Matsumoto]

Jun threw himself hard against the wall, his back hitting it with an audible thud. His breath came in short, ragged pants, his lungs straining to keep up with his bodies exertion. He had no idea how long he had been running, but the pain that twinged in his side suggested it had been long enough. Resting his head back against the wall, he inhaled, and then exhaled heavily. His eyes half closed, and he tried to get control over his breathing.

A warm, numbing sensation pulsed through his forehead, and he gingerly raised a probing hand, brushing over his eyebrows with the back of a loose fist. He felt something warm and sticky against his skin, and the hairs of his long fringe had been pasted together by a thick liquid. He knew instantly that it wasn't sweat, but he dropped his hand and looked anyway, only to have his fears confirmed. A long, uneven line of blood, overly crimson against his pale skin, coated his forefinger and knuckle. He let out a long sigh, and cursed under his breath. He should have been more careful.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, flicked open the top, and pulled one from their dented cardboard casing. He put it to his lips, and then replaced the rest, switching them out for his silver zippo. Flipping the top, he held the flame to the tip of the cigarette, and drew in a long breath. It lit on his first attempt, and he inhaled a mouthful of calming, cancerous smoke. He exhaled through his nose a few moments later, feeling much better.

“That's better” he said to no-one in particular, taking another drag, feeling the rush of nicotine cursing through his veins. His back slumped, and he felt himself beginning to rest. One or two more of these, and his heart would be returned to it's resting rate, and he'd be as good as new.

A loud clatter from the alleyway he had emerged from only minutes before startled him, and he jumped, his body stiffening. Quickly pocketing his lighter, he reached under his coat, behind his back, and drew the long, serrated combat knife from it's sheath on his belt. He tightened his grip on the blade's hilt, and edged toward the walls corner, back still pressed against the rough brick, cigarette still between his lips. His mind raced, unsure of what he was going to encounter. He thought he'd lost the brainless dead a while back, but he could have been wrong. He could have alerted more. Then, it could be something else, maybe scavengers... Either way, he didn't think it boded particularly well.

In a few steps, he'd reached the corner to the alley. He paused for a minute, closed his eyes, and let his free hand find his father's dog tags. He gave them a gentle squeeze, said a quick, silent prayer to his mom, and, taking a long drag on his cigarette for both comfort and courage, he peeked around into the dark side street, knife ready at his side.

[brighteye]

[/i] if only they had taken the time to search. Instead, it had fallen to ruin with the war, making it the ruins look older than they truly were.

She'd waved off an armed escort - the people in the Safe Zone needed them so much more than she did. Instead, she'd accepted a small pistol - one that she probably couldn't even fire (but she hadn't told them that) and a knife that she was pretty sure might be useless against an attack. Even with the odds against her, she wasn't too terribly afraid. She was out on a mission to help others that needed it - she'd be dying for something honorable if she were to die. Still, the girl kept them near at hand – she wasn’t a fool. The soldier who had given her the weapon had shown her how to click off and on the safety, but she wasn’t that sure of her aim or her ability to actually pull the trigger. It wasn’t that she was afraid to protect herself. It was just that she was a nurse – a healer – not a soldier – one who gave wounds.

As she poked around the ruins, her foot hit a can, making a loud, echoing clatter through the alley she was currently traversing. She winced, glancing around to see if anything was jumping out at her. She’d been careful not to attract attention up until now, but by accident, she had probably made everything in the area aware of her presence. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now – she would just press on and hope that nothing would jump out and tear her throat out – how horrible that would be!
[/ul]

[Jun Matsumoto]

At first, Jun noticed nothing out of the ordinary. The alley way he had come from seemed fairly deserted, and neither man nor beast lurched towards him in an attempt to eat his face or brain. His pale blue eyes darted left to right, scanning for anything, any sign of change, but none showed itself. He could feel the hairs on his arms standing on end, and his muscles were so tense he could barely move. Every part of him was ready to fight or flee. Yet, even after a good few minutes of waiting, nothing gave him reason to do either. He sighed, and he realized that he had been holding his breath, cigarette still in his mouth. A plume of smoke billowed from between his lips, obscuring his vision for a moment, further greying the already dim evening.

Reaching up to his lips with his bloody hand, he removed the cigarette, and quickly wafted the air before him, relaxing a little but still not wishing to be blind in such dangerous territory. Zombies could come from anywhere, and even if the way looked safe, he'd had experience that suggested that things in the dead cities weren't always as they seemed. The undead also had a habit of coming from more than one direction at a time, liking to surround their prey before feeding on their innards, and if there was one thing Jun liked and wanted to keep, it was his innards.

His hand left clear trails in the thick smoke, and as it began to clear, it was through the reeking haze that he caught sight of what had made the earlier noise. Dropping into a crouch, lowering his exposure to the other, he tensed up as quickly as he'd begun to relax, eyes fixed dead on the small, wandering figure who moved just beyond the alley. Narrowing his eyes, he examined the figure carefully, eyebrows knitted together as they often did when he was deep in thought. From what he could tell, the offending noise-maker looked to be a girl, no older than 15, in a slightly grubby white and red uniform. She was pale, if not somewhat pasty, with deep brown hair. The way she moved didn't seem exactly zombie like, but then, some of the walking dead had become quite clever and started to mimic humans... She didn't look all that decayed either, but then she many have only just crossed into the afterlife. But what if she wasn't dead, and rather just a lost child? Other than alerting any zombies in the area to her presence, she didn't look all that capable of defending herself...

Jun swore under his breath, and knew that he had to approach her. He couldn't leave a lost kid in the street to die, no matter how selfish he was, no matter how much his main concern was for himself and his mom. Anyone else his age, he could just about manage, but kids? He'd have to not have a heart to leave a 15 year old to die, and when his mom asked how his day was when he got in, he wanted a clean conscious. He couldn't face telling her that, because he didn't like taking the odd risk, he let a child get consumed by a ravenous horde of flesh eating maniacs. Anyway, even if the girl turned out to be a zombie, he had taken on bigger, nastier, more terrifying specimens in the past month.

Sighing, he popped his cigarette back in his mouth, and made his move. He ghosted down the alley as best he could, making sure each footstep fell on empty ground so as not to disturb any debris. His body was low to the ground, and his eyes darted about him cautiously. His knife was held before him in a defensive position, blade almost horizontal to the ground, the knife-arm braced with his other hand, now free of his cigarette. He hoped that anyone who saw him from afar would think he looked some what professional.

He emerged from the alley behind the girl, and did his best to sneak up on her, wanting to keep the element of surprise. He heard his heart pounding in his chest, and he was amazed that it wasn't echoing about the streets, the constant and quickening 'thump' reverberating off empty walls. As he approached, he began to focus only on her, watching her more closely for any sign that she may already know he was there. So far though, he seemed to have gone unnoticed, despite being the tallest moving being out in the open. She still wasn't giving off brain-feeder signs, and this comforted him...a little.

Just as he came into arms reach, his foot hit a decent stone, as he had stopped watching the floor to watch his quarry. It skittered forward, bouncing across the ground, finally coming to a sudden stop as it collided with the back of the girls ankle. If that hadn't startled her, aroused her to his presence, nothing would. Without waiting for her to turn, he dropped onto one knee, holding his knife forward so she could see the blade. He was so flustered at his mistake that his mouth fell open a little, cigarette falling to the ground, rolling off to one side. He had to be ready to move, to kill her if she turned out to not be quite as human as he'd thought.

“Okay, say something intelligent! Say anything, a big word, I don't care! Say something smart, coherent, whatever clever people call it!”

It was the only way Jun had found he could certainly tell the living from the dead. Living people had a functioning brain, allowing them to talk, to feel, to think. The dead only seemed to be able to talk in 'ughs' and 'garsshs', and thought mainly about eating people. It was a sure fire way to tell the difference, if they were able to actually talk to him.

Taking a deep breath, he readied himself for a possible dash, for the possibility he might, any second, be fighting for his life. He really wished he hadn't dropped his cigarette...

[brighteye]

[/i] didn't want to have to try to stitch up her own foot if she shot herself, which would probably happen. That, or she'd waste all her bullets jumping at shadows, attracting the enemy and effectively killing herself. No, she'd just hold it, a nice, safe weight in her hand, and wouldn't take the safety off unless she saw something that would justify her shooting it.

Her eyes scanned the walls - there was some graffiti on the walls; from the looks of it, the spray-painted obscenities had been there for quite some time. Nature had begun to erode it away, as it had the rest of the City. Krystal carefully made her way towards the end of the alley, avoiding small piles of undesirable matter, along with other cans and glass that might alert others to her presence - if her kicking the can hadn't already done so. Honestly - how could she have been so careless as to let herself become lax in such a dangerous territory? She should know better; this world was dangerous, and she needed to be smart to survive. Then again, one could argue that it wasn’t smart to go wandering around in zombie-infested territory with weapons she was unfamiliar with, and probably unable to use, on the hopes that she could bring back some medicines for others who would need it, at her own risk. Others needed her help – she was a nurse, and a pretty good one for her age. Most other eighteen year olds who wanted into this field were still learning, were still paired at the hip to other nurses. Her training from such a young age had helped her, but it was still so hard for her, someone young, to have so much responsibility for others. Not that she minded, she thought, barely keeping herself from stepping on a sharp looking stone, which probably would have hurt. It was good to-

Her train of thought was broken as a stone smacked into the back of her ankle, causing her to jump, her heart in her throat. Oh God, there’s a zombie behind me, and when I turn around, it’s going to eat me! She thought, her mind jumping to the worst conclusion possible. Krystal whirled, taking a few small steps backwards to place distance between her and the zombie she had imagined. However, what she found behind her was not, in fact, a zombie. A few steps from her was a young man brandishing a large dagger at her. Krystal’s eyes widened at the large blade that he threatened her with – she hadn’t done anything! Was he going to rob her or something? Her finger pressed gently against the safety of the gun – which was in plain sight of the guy in front of her – ready to release it and attempt to defend herself if he attacked her. However, what he said next startled her out of any sort of “battle readiness” she may have had. ”Okay, say something intelligent! Say anything, a big word, I don’t care! Say something smart, coherent, whatever clever people call it!” He yelled at her. He wanted her to say words to him? Okay, that was fine with her, so long as he didn’t stick her with that big knife.

”Who are you?” She asked, replying to his demands while asking a question of her own. ”What’re you doing out here? It isn’t safe.” Oh yeah, like it was totally safe for her out here. With the way he held that knife, he was probably better suited to being out in the City than she was, with her shaky hold on the gun that she couldn’t use. But that wasn’t the point. She was trying to help others, and he was in her way with that big knife of his. Now, if he wanted to help her, that was all well and good, but if not, she really didn’t want to try to use the weapon in her hand. She’d feel so bad after wards.
[/ul]

[Jun Matsumoto]

Jun held his stance as the girl stumbled away from him, and his eyes scanned over her front quickly. She had a young looking face, large blue eyes, and skin unmarked by rot or decay, usually a good sign. A full face of flesh, with eyes intact, tended to suggest the person he had stumbled across, the person he had so foolishly kicked a stone into, was no immediate threat. As of yet they looked to have no intention of eating his face. He relaxed a little, muscles easing. It was only a girl. A human girl. Relief began to wash over him, and he lowered his knife point. Then his eyes caught movement at her waist level, and he dropped his gaze, seeing the light of the waning moon catch on polished metal.

He immediately tensed again, and cursed himself inwardly for not being more astute. In her shaky grip she held a pistol, a new, what looked to be functioning pistol, and there he was with only a knife. He didn't care that she didn't look trained or ready to use one. At this range, she wouldn't have to be. All she had to do was point and shoot. Jun couldn't move that fast, and he doubted he could reach her before she pulled the trigger.

His eyes widened with fear, and then he looked back to her face as she spoke, her voice soft, not fitting the weapon she carried. He paid little attention to the questions she asked, and thought more on his course of action. What the hell was he going to do? The girl had a gun! That was almost as bad as her being a zombie. He had sneaked up behind her, and it looked like he was about to pick pocket her, take her shit, shank her and leave her for dead. He was amazed she hadn't already pulled the trigger. What was it they did in the movies?

As if a light bulb lit in his mind, he held up both his hands, pointing the knife blade away from her, off at some random house to their left, to show that he wasn't about to use it. Then he stood up straight, legs locking into position, so that even if he'd wanted, he couldn't sprint off in any direction, let alone towards her. Any threat he had posed was effectively reduced to zero, and he blushed a deep red, though he wasn't sure if that was from fear or embarrassment, or a mix of both.

“Hey, lady, don't shoot me! I saw you from like, back there,” he motioned to the dark alley with his head, inclining it a little to the right, “and I thought 'hey, that kid doesn't look that old. She shouldn't be out there on her own.' Then I like, came over here to try and save you, and figured when I got closer you could have been a zombie. That's why,” he inclined his head to his left and the knife blade, “I pointed the tool at you.”

Gulping, he hoped the kid was as nice as she seemed. He was a good fighter, and he'd gotten by in the past with street smarts, but there wasn't much he could do at the wrong end of a gun but pray they didn't fire it at him. And pray he did.

[brighteye]

[/i] He said hurriedly as his face turned a deep shade of red. She wasn't sure if he was afraid or what, but that was a good sign, right? He wasn't going to stab her.

"I saw you from like, back there, and I thought 'hey, that kid doesn't look that old. She shouldn't be out there on her own.' Then I came over here to try and save you, and I figured when I got closer you could have been a zombie. That's why I pointed the tool at you." What he said made sense. The whole time he spoke his hands didn't move in any way, especially not the knife, to her relief. Then, her mind backtracked through the conversation. Wait. Kid? This guy thought she was some kid? Well, yeah, she looked young, but really?

"I'm not that young." She replied, indignant and exasperated - but not at him. This wasn't the first time this had happened - you'd think she'd have gotten over it by now. Patients would try to refuse her treatments because of how young she looked and other nurses would balk until she flashed her badge a couple times. "I'm eighteen, for your information." She told him in her best matter-of-fact voice. Now that he wasn't threatening her with a knife, she let her eyes check over this guy who was hanging out in the City. Her eyes instantly spotted the blood on his hand.

"You're hurt. Are you alright?" She asked, switching from indignant to professional like the flip of a switch. Well, that was how it was for her. Even at work - if she were laughing and joking, and then all of a sudden there was a patient in need of care right away, she had to be ready to go in a heartbeat. On her back sat a small pack with medical supplies. "Put that away so I can look at you." She ordered, glaring at the knife. Krystal didn't feel safe putting away her gun - even if she couldn't use it - if he had that out.[/ul]

[Jun Matsumoto]

Jun watched the girl with wide eyes as she thought over what he had said. His gaze constantly flicked between her face, which seemed lost in thought, if not a little more relaxed than it had been, and her shaking hands that held her gun. Why the hell was she still shaking? He'd told her that he wasn't going to attack her. Did she think he was stupid? Did she think he'd run at a fire arm with only a knife in his hands? He may not always be noted for his genius, but he was well aware that he couldn't outrun a bullet. The last thing he wanted was her trembling hands catching the trigger of her pistol and her blowing a chunk out of some part of his anatomy. However, before he could tell her to watch where she was aiming, she shouted at him.

“I'm not that young!”

There was such ferocity in her voice that Jun nearly stepped back. His eyes only widened, and he stared at her gun. Was insulting her age a shootable offence? He really hoped not. It was still pointed at him. “Hey. Look. I don't care what age you are! I just don't want you pointing that thing at me! I like my body with no holes, and you look to have an itchy or shaky trigger finger!” he glared at her hands again, trying to make his point. Her next sentence drew his attention back to her face though, all fear forgotten for a moment, and he eyed her with shock.

“Woah! You're 18?! No fucking way are you older than me! I risked my life for a grandma?! I thought you were some sweet 15 year old kid! I still think you're a 15 year old kid!”
Jun berated himself silently. He could have been half-way home already, to a warm bed and his mom's cooking. Instead, he'd been lured in by some girl who looked young, innocent, unprotected, but who was actually older than him and packing a serious side arm. Why the hell had he risked his life to try and save her? He would have been better off leaving her. His friends had always told him he cared too much for people that didn't matter, and the soldiers in the camp had always talked in hushed whispers about survival being about the self, not about others. And there he'd been rushing forward to what could have been zombiefied territory in order to save a cougar.

“You're hurt. Are you alright?” The girls voice snapped him back to reality, and he thought about what she said. A dull aching pulsed through his head for a minute, and he murmured a quiet “Oh yeah...” , only remembering his injury at her mention of it. He lowered his free hand, gingerly poked the gash in his forehead again, and winced. “Owch!” confirmed that yes, in fact he was hurt, and that he was not as 'all right' as he could be.

“Put that away so I can look at you.” Raising an eyebrow, Jun looked at the girl wearily, and then remembered her gun. It would probably be better to follow her orders. Lowing his knife hand slowly, he slipped the blade under his jacket, and into it's sheath on the back of his pants. Then he stooped, picked up his still lit cigarette, and took a drag, still moving slowly like criminals in cop movies, as if she could shoot at any time. He breathed deeply, filled his lungs, and then blew the smoke out his nose; appearing almost like an angry cartoon bull. “What do you wanna look at me for?” he said, his voice raising in a questioning tone.

[brighteye]

[/i] Okay, she had to give him that. She was shaking a bit. Gently, and slowly, she lowered the gun, even though the safety was still on, removing her finger from the trigger. It was better to be safe and not accidentally shoot him, than to be sorry later when she did. Even being a nurse, she didn't know if she had the supplies to save him from the wound she'd cause.

His next exclaimation completely startled her though. Grandma? At eighteen? How did that even work out? Grandma's were like, old with gray hair. She didn't have gray hair! "Hey! I'm not a grandma!" She complained, for lack of anything better to say. Anyway - she was older than him? He looked young, but she'd learned not to take that for granted. After all, she looked younger than she looked - three years younger, if what this boy said was true. She wondered if she should chide him on his swearing, but she decided against it. He might get mad at her.

"Oh, yeah... Ouch!" The boy cried softly, as he slowly probed the cut that appeared to be on his forehead. So, he was injured - he hadn't just gotten blood on him from... whatever he might have been doing. After she ordered him to put his knife away, he did so - slowly. It disappeared behind his back. She then watched him slowly lift up a cigarette, taking a drag before exhaling the smoke.

"Those are so terribly bad for your lungs." She told him, tucking the gun in the holster that was hidden underneath the stuffed penguin doll at her hip. That probably didn't help the opinion on her age, but she didn't care. Mr. Penguin was her favorite stuffed animal, and it helped to soothe small children. Then, she slung the small pack around and off her back and into her hands.

"I'm a nurse." She told him absently, in response to his question. "I have the badge to prove it, if you'd like." Krystal had taken to carrying it around with her everywhere - not many would let her work on them without it, unless they were in a lot of pain. She took a few steps forward towards the guy, to see how bad the cut was. He might need stitches, if it were bad enough.[/ul]

[Jun Matsumoto]

Jun watched the girl carefully, through narrowed eyes, as she lowered her gun. He held his cigarette between his first and second fingers, the filter resting between slightly parted lips. He took another drag, this time exhaling the smoke through pursed lips, channelling it into a funnel, directing it straight into the face of the girl before him. Grinning afterwards, feeling much safer now she couldn't shoot a chunk out of him, he merely shrugged at her statement. “You're older than me. You're a grandma.” He spoke so off handedly that anyone listening would think he was stating obvious fact. He turned his head away from her, tilting it down, and then looked at her with a devilish grin. “Unless you're interested in me. Then you're a cougar!” He finished his sentence with pathetically childish growl.

Another shrug followed, and he sighed as she started to mess around with something at her waist. Her gun was put completely away, holstered behind a fluffy penguin. A fluffy penguin? No way was this girl older than him. And if she was, she should be down right embarrassed. Who carried stuffed toys around any more? How could any one help but think she was a kid? “Those are terribly bad for your lungs.” And when she talked like that, how could she complain that he called her grandma? He sighed again, getting ready to make his point. “So is living in a place where the air may as well be bomb smoke. Don't hear you complaining about me breathing.” He took another long drag, childishly proving he wasn't going to listen to her, and then blew his smoke at her again. He had to stifle a laugh.

“I'm a nurse. I have the badge to prove it, if you'd like.” Jun nodded, and looked at her cautiously. What was a nurse doing with a gun? And where were her armed guards? No way had the army sent her out into no man's land alone to look for survivors? Were they loosing that badly that they couldn't even spare her a soldier to protect her? “Yeah. I want to see it. I ain't letting you anywhere near my head until I do. I don't trust random people out in no man's land with needles on their person to look at my face, or touch me, or anything like that.” The truth was, he'd never been in the situation before, but he felt that saying what he had made him sound more experienced, more like a tough survivor.

She took a few steps toward him, and he initially shrank back. Then he remembered that she was smaller than him, and her gun was out of sight. If she made any wrong move, he could overpower her. His knife was in easy reach, and he wouldn't hesitate to kill her if she tried anything. That's what he told himself anyway. He'd never killed a human, just an undead one. Surely, it couldn't be that different, could it?

“Don't you try anything.” he said wearily, leaning forward again, and lowering himself to her level so she could get a better look at his wound.

[brighteye]

[/i] He turned away, before looking back at her, his grin now devilish. "Unless you're interested in me. Then you're a cougar!" Krystal rolled her eyes. What was with this boy? They had just met, and now he was calling her names?

"Are you really this immature, or am I just a special case?" She demanded, curious. He then told her off on her comment about his cigarette. He did have a valid point though, with all the dust from the ruins to the explosives going off on the battlefield, it was hard to believe the air around her was any safer. Which wasn't, not really. In fact, it was probably more dangerous for you than the cigarettes. "Even so, you're just speeding up the time to your demise." She told him, undeterred.

"Yeah. I want to see it. I ain't letting you anywhere near my head until I do." Well, that wasn't a surprise. She had heard that hundreds of times before, and she'd probably hear it thousands of times more before she finally looked old enough - or familiar enough - to be trusted to know what she was talking about. Then again, she really couldn't blame them. She wouldn't want a child working on her body either. "I don't trust random people in no man's land with needles on their person to look at my face, or touch me, or anything like that." Well, that was good sense. She might have poison or whatever. Then again with the mixture of narcotics on her person, she could create a poison. It probably would be best to leave that little tid-bit out.

Krystal grabbed the badge that sat in an easy to access side pocket, used just for this purpose. Then she took the few steps forward, noting that he shrunk back. She remained silent about it though, since he probably wouldn't like it if she taunted him like he taunted her. Not that she would anyway - that wasn't her way.Krystal held the ID out to him. "Here. My badge." He could take it or just read it from her hand, it was all the same to her.

Then, after he told her not to try anything, he leaned forward to be onto her level. "As if I would do something like that. Honestly." She said, her tone matching his own. "Really, I don't know what kind of characters you've met, but I'm probably nothing like them. I'm a good guy, honest." She told him, her eyes going to his head wound.

As all head wounds were prone to do, it was bleeding profusely. That didn't mean it was serious, but it also meant she couldn't tell how bad it was. After a quick moment of rumaging through her bag, she produced a small cloth square. "It's just a hankerchief, so don't freak out." She didn't want to ruin a whole roll of bandages, and she didn't care to cut a piece off, so she'd just take one of the nicer pieces of linen she had. It could always be washed. Gently, she pressed the cloth against the wound, wiping carefully, trying not to give him any pain.

Once the blood was mostly gone, she got a good look at the injury. It wasn't too large - just a scratch at an idle glance. However, it was deep. "What did you hit?" she asked, curious. It would need a few stitches, but she doubted that he would like that. She could put some topical anesthetics on it, but there really wasn't much she could do to dull out any pain from it. "You need a few stitches." She pronounced.

(( I totally can't believe you said cougar in your post. I kind of sort of God-Modded that last bit, picking your injury for you. I hope you aren't mad.))[/ul]

[Jun Matsumoto]

“Are you really that immature, or am I just a special case?” Jun noted the girl's eyes roll, and wondered how much more prudish she could get. She was like a spoiled posh kid. She didn't seem to have any sense of humour at all, and it irked him slightly. Hell, if she had it in her to carry a stuffed penguin around with her, he'd have thought she'd have to have at least a small streak of fun running through her. Clearly, he had been gravely mistaken, and the title 'granny' suited her perfectly. He'd only just met her and he was bored of her nagging, the lack of laughter at obvious jokes. “No one gets special treatment from me, other than my mom, and while you nag enough to be one, don't flatter yourself thinking I'd act up for you.” Finishing with a slight nod of his head, Jun felt pride rush through him. He'd said something that actually sounded smart, and was somewhat insulting at the same time; a first for him.

“And think about it girlie, I'm speeding up my demise, like, being out here, in frickin' no man's land, rather than being tucked up nice and warm in the safe zone. But I don't see you complaining about that.” Another nod. He was on fire. Jun doubted that he'd ever strung two such eloquent sentences together, and felt as though the girl before him should be bowing at his feet. Today, of all days, when he really needed it, Jun had become a master wielder of quick wit and ready repartee. He was smiling so widely, so lost in him own accomplishment, that he nearly missed the girl's badge when she held it out.

He quickly reached out, snatching it from her, and narrowed his eyes, holding the ID before him. He looked at the name, one Krystal Clarke, and then at the photo. His eyes roamed from it to her face, and it didn't take much to figure they were the same person. They had the same kiddish face, the same big blue eyes, the same old woman hair cut. She was definitely the nurse she claimed to be. However, Jun decided he'd hold onto the ID a little longer, theatrically examining it in front of her, angling it from side to side, bringing it closer to his face, and then holding it further away. Eventually, he just shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you're the same person.” Offering it back to her, he had to stifle a grin. By winding her up, he was proving he was the superior of the two, proving that he could keep calm, hold his temper, and was therefore a more capable survivor than her, something important to establish in first meetings, especially in uncharted territory.

Jun watched her carefully as she started rummaging in her bag, complaining again about his slight hesitance in trusting her. If she knew the kinds of people he'd met, then she might be a little more accepting of his somewhat detached nature. “Yeah, and guess what the bad guys say- 'hey, you can trust us, we're the good guys.' Better safe than sorry Krystal, that's what I say.” He decided to use her name, once again showing he had one up on her. She'd revealed her identity to him, when he'd made no such move toward her. If he'd been someone who wanted to harm her, that could be invaluable information.

He stood still while she dabbed at his wound, doing his best not to wince. Now he'd stopped running and relaxed a little, the cut he'd received actually hurt. It pulsed with every heart beat, and each time she poked it, it felt like a number of needles were being forced into his eyelid. At least, that was the best comparison he could come up with. Doctors had always told him to describe pain when he was little, and he liked to think of theatrical ways to do it. “I was running, and I like, tripped over some bag someone had left lying around. I was looking behind me so I didn't see it and then boom! I hit my head on a rock. Didn't really have time to lie around though, y'know?” Jun cursed silently as soon as he'd finished his sentence. He could have hyped his head injury up a lot more than that. He could have made it seem like an epic war wound. Remembering this, he resolved to do it the next time some prissy nurse found him in no man's land to treat his wounds. Not that he minded her help or anything; it's just, he'd have preferred someone less kid-like and, truthfully, much hotter. That's what really lessened pain.

The mention of stitches brought Jun out of his short reverie, filled with half-dressed nurses, and made his momentary worry about needles in his eye lid come back to mind. What had been a fleeting fear had now become a real possibility. He looked at her wide eyed, like a rabbit (an awesome rabbit) in the metaphorical head lights. “You're going to put a needle near my face?! Are you even qualified to do that?!”

((No worries about that! The thread had to move on somewhere! And yes, I used the word cougar. XD *felt proud*))

[brighteye]

Generally, Krystal was a nice, fun person who got along with everyone. However, she was finding it difficult to be friendly with a guy who had called her a kid, a granny, and a cougar! Honestly, that isn't the best way to go around making friends. In this time, with war pulling everyone apart, everyone could use a friend. Going solo was a fast way to get yourself killed - but she couldn't say that aloud. She was walking around alone herself, with no way to keep herself safe, not really.

"No one gets special treatment from me, other than my mom, and while you nag enough to be one, don't flatter yourself thinking I'd act up for you." While most people would insult him for being kind to his mother, or for still living with her, Krystal was not that kind of person. She didn't get her kicks from other peoples pain; she relieved them of it. Nor would she bring his mother into the conversation, as others would have done, assuming that their parents would feel a certain way about their actions. She had no way of knowing what his mother thought, so she wasn't even going to postulate about it.

The kid snatched her ID from her. "Hey, calm down. I wasn't going to keep it from you. Geesh." Honestly, the way he'd taken it, it was like the thing was some holy relic or something. It was just an ID badge. She waited patiently, watching as he turned it side to side, brought it up close and further away, doing whatever he felt was necessary to determine it was real and that was her photo. Finally, "Yeah, I guess you're the same person." He offered it to her, and she took it back lightly, before carefully tucking the card back into her bag.

"Yeah, and guess what the bad guys say- 'hey, you can trust us, we're the good guys.' Better safe than sorry, Krystal, that's what I say." He retorted to her comment. She shrugged as she left her bag alone. "Yeah, but you're the one who came to save me remember? You should have thought about that before you came over here." She pointed out logically. If he thought her to be a "bad guy" then he shouldn't have bothered helping her in the first place, right? Right. It wasn't her fault the guy had trust issues.

As she cleaned and examined the wound, the guy explained what had happened. He'd tripped over something and slammed his head into a rock. So, besides a head wound he might also have a concussion. After determining the wound needed stitching, and telling him this, she went to her bag again to find some topical anesthesitics to apply to the wound. As she did so, the guy responded vehemetly. "You're going to put a needle near my face?!Are you even qualified to do that?!" She looked up to see his eyes were wide with fear, and she sighed.

"Yes, I'm qualified to stitch your wound up. It only need about," she glanced at his wound again, counting mentally, before continuing. "seven or eight stitches. You won't even feel it, and if you close your eyes you won't even know it's happening, I promise." She spoke gently - but not in a condescending way. She was trying to placate the kids obvious fear - either of stitches, needles, or whatever it was that was making him afraid of this - without offending him.

Krystal turned back to her bag and found some alcohol - to sterilize the wound -, a small tube of strong anesthetics - he'd need it as strong as she was able to give it -, a small flashlight, a cotton swab and a Q-tip to apply the anesthetics. She tucked the flashlight, q-tip, and anesthetics into her pocket, before opening the alcohol and pouring some carefully onto the cotton swab. "Let me clean your wound. It might sting a little." She told him carefully, showing him the swab.

(( I have no idea how many stitches are needed for what kind of wound, so I made a number up. Bear with my medical-idiocity. ))

[Jun Matsumoto]

As the nurse examined his wound, Jun did his best not to look too uncomfortable. He didn't want to seem unmanly or disturbed, but then, he found it very hard to do so when some unknown woman was poking his head, attempting to work out if he actually needed any treatment or not. Every time she touched his cut he winced, and then glared at her, as if she had meant to hurt him.

“"Yeah, but you're the one who came to save me remember? You should have thought about that before you came over here."

Jun blinked, a little surprised that he hadn't thought of that. He'd gone to save her because he thought she was a kid, yet she'd turned out to be a girl even older than him. She'd also had a gun. There was nothing to say that, in his lax moment of judgement, that girl wouldn't have been a murderous scavenger all too ready to kill him, wanting to steal his clothes and knife. He gulped a little, and thought of how badly things could have turned out. In his want to be a hero, in his eagerness to help a little girl, he could have overlooked important details and ended up losing his life. He quickly resolved not to go and try and save people again, at least not without proper inspection first.

“Yeah, well...It's not my fault you looked like a helpless kid is it?!” It was all he could manage, and despite the fact it was a little pathetic compared to his previous retorts, he still felt that he had overcome her nay-saying and demonstrated that he was still more awesome than her in every way. Not that that was hard to prove or portray.

However, any such thoughts of being superior had left Jun's mind when needles were mentioned and she started rooting around in her bag for her supplies. She was really going to do it, wasn't she? She was really going to try and stitch him up? His body ran cold, and he shook a little, watching her cautiously, ready to dart away if she pointed the needle she was most likely looking anywhere near his eye, body, or groin.

“But how can you be qualified to stitch up my wound?! How?! You don't look any older than those kids in high school! They aren't doctors, or, or nurses, and I sure as hell can't stitch and I look way older than you! How do I know this isn't some lie so you can get close to me and sow my eyelids shut, or some other devious scheme?!”

He took a step back when she told him how many would be needed, and she tried to assure him that he wouldn't even feel it. He wanted to call her a liar and tell her that such things couldn't possibly be true, because it made sense that someone would feel a needle being driven through the damaged and ripped skin of their forehead.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. I won't feel a thing! You're gonna be poking my skin with a needle for fuck's sake, and it's gonna be fine because there will be no pain!” The sarcasm was evident in his voice. He didn't even try to hide it. However, she seemed to pay little heed to him, taking numerous objects, including a flashlight, out of her bag and then stuffing them in her pockets. Finally, she was left with a cotton sheet, and a bottle of something that stank of the strongest of whiskeys. She took a step toward him, and showed him clearly the rag she held. “Let me clean your wound. It might sting a little."

Pointing at her hand, and the cloth she held, Jun glared. “What is that, and why is it about to touch my face?! It smells!”

[brighteye]

[/i] bad, else he'd have yelled at her or stepped away, or done something else that would have signaled to her that she was causing him real pain. Pain was one thing, but discomfort was another all together. He could take a little discomfort. He blinked in surprise as she responded to his comments so calmly, but she doubted it was because she was calm that he blinked. "Yeah, well... it's not my fault you looked like a helpless kid, is it?" She sighed, not even going forth to try to glare at him. It just wasn't worth it.

"No, it isn't your fault that I look young. But it is your fault that you assumed that I was as young as I look. And you know what they say about assuming." She responded as she tucked away the hankerchief. Then, as she pulled out her other gear, he continued to talk. Now, his next spiel she could understand, even if it annoyed her. It wasn't his fault that countless others had said the same things to her before. But, unlike those other times, she didn't have other nurses to back up her claim. All she had was her own persuasive skills.

"Look, I've been learning how to nurse since I was fourteen, alright? My mom taught me everything she could before she died. I started formal training at sixteen, which was mainly learning everything I wasn't allowed to do at fourteen. Stitches, shots, anesthesia, all of that. I'm qualified." She sighed as he blew it all out of proportion. "Look, calm down, okay? I'm not gonna sew your eyes shut. You can watch me the whole time if you want." Really. She understood fear quite well, but it was difficult to deal with a kid in the middle of an abandoned city with no other help. "Yeah, sure, whatever. I won't feel a thing! You're gonna be poking my skin with a needle for fuck's sake, and it's gonna be fine because there will be no pain!" Krystal raised an eyebrow.

"I realize that you might not enjoy the thought of a needle coming near you. However, unless you want to get an infection and have that part of your face get really nasty, I suggest you let me stitch it. You won't like the treatment for an infection." It included some painful scrubbing and stitches. So, in the end, one way or another, he'd end up getting stitches. This way was just a bit more pleasant. She noted the heavy saracasm in his voice, especially at the part about pain. "As for not feeling pain, thats why I pulled out this tube here." She pointed at it with the cotton swab, which would soon be covered with alcohol. "Its a strong anesthetic. I won't do anything that will cause you anything more than mild discomfort until it's properly numbed, okay?"

She poured the alcohol onto the cotton and moved towards him, only to stop as he pointed at her. "What is that, and why is it about to touch my face?! It smells!" He really was paranoid, wasn't he? Well, she could hardly blame him, in the world they currently lived in. No one could trust anyone, not even a doctor or nurse.

"It's alcohol. It's to clean the wound so that when I stitch your wound, there isn't anything bad trapped inside to infect it from the inside." She explained patiently, as some of the alcohol leaked out of the cotton onto her fingers. It was chilly, but it didn't sting her as she didn't have any wounds on her fingers.[/ul]

[Jun Matsumoto]

“What, that it makes an ass out of you and me? Are you seriously that much of a grandma you use that saying? My mom uses that!” Jun shook his head, surprised at how odd this childish looking cougar was. Did anyone in high school even use that phrase? Did anyone in high school carry around a stuffed penguin? Then again, clearly, this girl had never been to a normal high school. She'd probably gone to some lame nurses school, which, in his fantasies had been filled with women in their early twenties, half dressed with needles. Clearly, his fantasies had been very wrong. He resolved quickly to try and come up with new ones. “Then again, it might want to hope that saying is true. You could do with more 'ass.' The fifteen year old boy look doesn't suit anyone.”

Jun remained tense through out the girls long speech, explaining how she'd been taught everything before her mother died, and how she'd learnt how to give shots at sixteen and yadayadayada. The only part he paid much attention to was her mention of infection, and the thought of having one of those scared him more than the nightmarish image of having a fifteen year old girl masquerading as a curve-less eighteen year old, only to attack his forehead with a needle. For some reason, the word infection conjured images of zombies with crabs, and the last thing he needed was that spreading to his face.

Gulping, he nodded slightly, and tried to loosen himself up. He repeated over and over that she wasn't going to hurt him, that she could have killed him already, and that if the shows on tv had been right, stitches left scars; girls dug scars, especially if he could find an elaborate story behind it.
“Okay, jessh. Chill. I'll let you stitch me. I don't want your life story.” He tried to act calm, as if her talking about infections hadn't terrified him. “But, it'll scar right? When you've stitched it? That's what happened in the movies.” The more Jun thought about having a scar, the more he liked the idea. He wouldn't be able to move for women. They'd be swarming him constantly. Rugged, charming...that's what he'd be.

When he finally came back out of his mind, rejoining the real world, he noticed the 'nurse' was holding out the cotton toward his face, waiting patiently for him. She told him a little about what she was going to do to him, and he nodded, agreeing with only slight hesitation. “Yeah, whatever. Go for it. I don't want any puss leaking out my forehead or anything.”

Even though he'd become much calmer, he still eyed her cautiously. While he'd figured she meant to do him no real harm, he could never be too careful. While this devious, lying fifteen year old was safe, not all jailbait would be so kind, and it helped to keep practised about such things. Now, if only there was a way to zone out while she got a needle and thread and used them to hold together cut flaps of skin...

“Hey, that alcohol stuff you're gonna use...can I drink it? Like whiskey or whatever?” That'd be nice. If he could steal some of her alcohol, he could get drunk, and if he was drunk, the chances of him remembering how bad his stitches hurt, or how scared he was would be slim to none.