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nowinprintOn the fifth floor of an abandoned construction project, Dmitri Lang has been conscious for about fifteen minutes, now. The first seven of those minutes were spent throwing up – yeah, this is a concussion if she's ever felt one, and the fact that there's a crust of blood over most of her forehead makes her feel ever so much better about all of this – and the next five were spent cursing and spitting in an attempt to get the taste of stomach acid out of her mouth. Because Dmitri Lang is exactly that ladylike.
For the last three minutes, though, she's been taking in everything she can about this room, in exacting detail, including the layout and those there. The people cuffed up in it seem to show a distressing concentration of people she knows for one reason or another, and while she has quite the expansive social network, Chicago is a big city. Granted, there is one kid there she doesn't know except for having him smash her face into the floor, but if anything, he looks more beat-up than the rest of them.
And April is gone. She's pretty sure she saw April, last time she was conscious in here, unless it's just the concussion messing with her, and she's wondering if that might be better.
She groans. Fixes on Tosh first, because she's easier to get answers out of than the Doctor, then registers exactly how Tosh looks, now that she can see, again. "Oh, kitten, you all right?"
For the last three minutes, though, she's been taking in everything she can about this room, in exacting detail, including the layout and those there. The people cuffed up in it seem to show a distressing concentration of people she knows for one reason or another, and while she has quite the expansive social network, Chicago is a big city. Granted, there is one kid there she doesn't know except for having him smash her face into the floor, but if anything, he looks more beat-up than the rest of them.
And April is gone. She's pretty sure she saw April, last time she was conscious in here, unless it's just the concussion messing with her, and she's wondering if that might be better.
She groans. Fixes on Tosh first, because she's easier to get answers out of than the Doctor, then registers exactly how Tosh looks, now that she can see, again. "Oh, kitten, you all right?"
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Date: 2008-10-03 11:21 pm (UTC)"You should wash that," she says distantly, because Dmitri default is to say whatever comes into her head, no matter how stupid it is. "...I have rabies."
She's expecting a flash of pain from the lie, though how that's going to manifest when her entire head is an echo chamber of hurt, she's not sure.
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Date: 2008-10-03 11:28 pm (UTC)And that brings Thane up short, because, fuck, he hadn't meant to knock her out again. He kneels, plating his knuckles on her teeth and registering the fact that she's still breathing, but....
His hand moves, patting her roughly on the cheek. "Hope it hurts just as much where you are now, darling," he says, and looks down at his forearm. Not healed yet. Goddamnit. Well, it'll get around to it. Not the first time someone's bit him, although recently – what seems recently, though everything has taken on a sort of distant edge – he's been smart enough not to let them.
He walks over to his bag, fishing out three pairs of cuffs, and walks back to her. Cuffs for the hands, cuffs for the wings, keep her spread-eagled with her wings pinioned up. She'll wake up eventually – the breathing's not right for a coma – and when she does, it won't be him with hands and fists, it'll be him with a full kit. And she won't enjoy that so much.
As soon as she's cuffed up, he turns on his heel and stalks out of the room. Once this kid is destroyed, and he means destroyed, she's going to be the first one to die. So how the rest of them like that.