Summary:A call for aid results in Scandal receiving some gory hints as to quite how unusual Eve might be Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related Logs2020-05-09 - After The Gore Has Gone Theme SongNone |
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Scandal's phone lights up with a text.
"Hey, I need some help."
It takes a few minutes, then a reply comes back to Eve.
'What do you need?'
"Clothes from my apartment. I've told them to let you in. Get fresh clothes and then come to the subway entrance and down a little ways into the tunnels. Sorry. Things got messy."
OH NO.
Scandal blinks at the phone… then purses her lips, chuckling faintly and shaking her head. Quite possibly incorrectly, she presumes that she can imagine the kind of mess that might wind up on a vigilante's clothing….
Before too much longer, the part-time student - clad in her customary black with a single flash of blue around her throat - descends into the subway, moving with the balanced caution of someone accustomed to danger as she ventures into the tunnels. Once out of sight of the station platform, she flicks on a small flashlight, then secures it with a strap on the shoulder of her heavy-duty leather jacket.
Scandal will, of course, have to spend some time moving down the tunnels per instruction. Thankfully, in a shadowy nook down a ways from the main platforms, is Eve. Obviously, avoiding metro tranist had to be done, but it wasn't gonna be hard for someone of Scandal's skillset.
In that nook, a blood soaked Eve is holding a hand out. "Hey, thanks. I reallllly need clothes," she tells her.
She is absolutely drenched.
Fortunately, though she lacks any preternatural abilities that might help her to see in the dark, Scandal seems to be quite untroubled by roaming around dark and smelly tunnels on her own. She keeps up a steady pace, making sure to watch out for the safety-nooks into which she might have to duck should a train come along. Thus, she hears Eve before she sees her… and upon bringing the (normally) blue-haired Goth into view, she arches her brows.
"When I began smelling blood even over the *other* scents down here…." Shaking her head, she sighs ruefully. "I'm not sure I brought enough in the way of cleaning supplies. But we can see how we do."
Moving closer, she swings a pack off her back crouching down to unfasten and then delve into it. "Wet-wipes. Water. Saline and a first aid kit, in case you needed them. Two towels. And the requested clothing. Also some energy-bars and a drink."
She steps into the light, and yes, torn clothes and all are quite visible. It's hard to believe she's not mangle;d from the sheer amount of damage they took, but well, she's not. Not apparently, anyway. There may be a slight limp or twinge here and there, but no sign of real damage.
"Naw, I appreciate it. No need. I'm fine. Just got a little ugly is all." But there's also no sign of /what/ got ugly.
"I figured you might be within range to help and now I need ot change. Thanks." She seems wry. A little embaressed.
"Should I ask what happened to you, or remain able to swear under oath that I have no idea?", Scandal asks wryly. First up, she offers a wad of simple paper kitchen towels, to try to wipe off some of the worst of the gore… and sorts out a sizable bin bag for the resulting waste to go into.
"I mean you totally can. I fought something and it lost. It hurt a lot. That's about the end of it, thoiugh," says Eve. The distinct use of 'it' there at least informs her that whatever it was, it wasn't human. Then again, who's to say Eve is?
Scandal nods sympathetically. "I hate regrowing organs," she says - tone so dry that it might be hard to tell how serious she is. "Do you need anything urgently? We can put clean-up on hold while you get some calories into you, if required. Otherwise… I think that the cleaning might be good to focus on. The sooner we can risk someone seeing you without the cops being called, the better."
Snorting at Scandal, Eve just sort of waves a hand and proceeds to strip off the ruined clothes with her back to Scandal. She has lots of piercings, including in her back along her spine.
"Ugh," she tells her. "Naw. I'm good. I ate already." Wait, what.
Scandal first arches one brow at the spine-piercings… then the other at mention of having eaten. Perhaps Eve had some emergency supplies with her, after all…
"Should I ask if this was trouble you sought out, or if it found you instead?", the (probably) older woman asks.
It's certainly possible. She gets dressed, still smeared with blood here and there, and proceeds to wipe it off her face.
She looks a lot better.
The rest of her rags are, well, left there.
What's she gonna do with them? Carry them with her?
"Come on. Let's get out of here."
Scandal nods agreement, packing up everything - either to be securely zipped up and then swung into place back on her shoulders, or carried in the bin liner. "Sure. Do you have somewhere in mind to go? You're still not exactly, ahh, entirely presentable, so I'd advise against spending *too* long out in public."
Scandal nods agreement, packing up everything - either to be securely zipped up and then swung into place back on her shoulders, or carried in the bin liner. "Sure. Do you have somewhere in mind to go? You're still not exactly, ahh, entirely presentable, so I'd advise against spending *too* long out in public."
"Definitely home," replies Eve, "home is where the bath is." Presentable or not, she is on her way there and seems not to mind that Scandal will be coming with her for the time being.
Scandal laughs, flashing a rather sympathetic smile at Eve. "I'd personally suggest a shower first, at least if you have decent water pressure. It can help to get… bits out of hair, I find." After a last careful look around for anything that ought to be coming with them, she breaks into a brief trot, to catch up and fall into step beside the bloodied Goth.
"No bits," says Eve. Honestly, had Scandal been any later, there wouldn't have been any blood either. She's soon out on the quiet streets and making her way towards her building. Late hours and all.
Scandal keeps a wary eye out for any trouble, but seems to have little actual *fear* in her demeanour, and no difficulty in keeping up with her companion. "How are you feeling?", she asks. Perhaps part of her attempt to foster this whole 'human contact' thing she's supposed to be working on…