entrancelogs | OPEN | two can be undone by three

[ bullets are not what faith puts into the targets. the bolts in her quiver dwindle down as she puts them through the crossbow and into her current target with varying accuracy. she too had been shaken up by the zombies, but it had more to do with suddenly losing her power than anything else. she'd made do, but what happens when she can't?

after she fires the last one off, faith moves to turn and sling the quiver from her back and catches victor in her peripheral. she takes her time setting the crossbow down to lean against the post before turning fully to look at him. ]

Victor.

[ then her eyes catch the old piece and she lifts her eyebrows in surprise. ]

Didn't expect that.

_{[Guns are louder and their bullets arguably more deadly, but the quietness of crossbow bolts until they hit home makes the thunk they make on impact more solid somehow, meatier, promising to puncture the human body and severe vital arteries.

He's watching her unload on her inanimate victim, imagining just how long it'd take to bleed out under Faith's assault. It makes him queasy in a distant way, as violence tends to. He can dismember something that's already dead without batting an eye, but using deadly force on something living is...

Different. It's different.

She notices him watching instead of doing much of anything, and he swallows, looking down at the firearm he'd forgotten about in his hand.]}

My being here?

_{[Is that so surprising? (The answer is "yes," because not even Victor had thought this would be necessary for him to know until one day he'd started contemplating ending the life he'd created.)]}

Not for practice anyway. You're a brain type.

[ as if that should explain it all. he fits a certain column, and faith being something of an efficient combatant tends to file people quickly. there is of course another explanation, one more way he doesn't upset her initial assumption: ]

You build that?

_{[Oddly enough, her description fits, frank as it is. He's heard it a thousand times and in a thousand different ways since the days of being a sick child unable to play with his brothers--if he was going to have value as a person, it would never be for his physical gifts.

Eventually he'd stopped crying over it and had accepted he wouldn't be fitting in that column anytime soon. The man now hardly blinks at being barred from it.]}

God, no.

_{[The beginnings of startled laughter underpins the words. Him, build a weapon like this? Hardly.]}

It's true I bank on my brain, but I'm no arms manufacturer. I'm a doctor and a researcher.

_{[Someone who could make their own gun would probably be better at using it and harder to kill, all things considered.]}

[ the sound faith makes is somewhere in the realm of 'impressed' though doctor just generally translates to person-she-really-doesn't-bother-with, as she'd proudly proclaimed when last they'd spoken. ]

Bodies and books, right. [ but she keeps looking him over, trying to make the contrasting image in front of her make sense. ] So you are practicing. Paint me green and call me Gumby. How'd you do?

_{[Yeah, you really don't want to end up seeing this doctor. His "patients" are usually dead, or wish they were.

An amused sound, dry and faintly cynical, escapes him at just how accurate she is. Bodies, books, and a mind that works like no other. Yes, Victor has to admit, she has him figured out fairly well for a woman so... unlike most others of her sex. He can't say he has her pegged quite so well just yet.]}

Close enough, I suppose.

_{[Victor hasn't the slightest idea what the reference to Gumby means, so he just raises an eyebrow, looking instinctively in the direction of the target he'd been firing at. A steady hand and sharp vision has helped make sure he's actually hit it the majority of the time.

... The outer edges, at least. Two are close to center mass, but not perfect.]}

I think you win. You clearly have experience.

_{[He's never seen someone with a crossbow of all things.]}

Long as it's not a gun.

[ were faith a more careful person she wouldn't flaunt her weaknesses around other people, but a delicate tongue is something she's never boasted. still, it's both an offhand comment and some sort of attempt to meet victor in the middle as she follows his gaze to the sheet. hell, when she'd started she had barely hit anything at all. it was frustrating to say the least.

surprise lights in her eyes, victor's dissonance increasing even more. faith looks back to him, unable to file him anywhere specific anymore. ]

But I guess we're all full of surprises...

Why not a gun? _{[Incredulous, Victor looks down at the deadly-looking crossbow.]} You have that.

_{[Granted, of what little he knows about weapons, he knows a bullet fired from his gun could still be more deadly. Comparatively, though, pulling a trigger is simple, almost effortless on the part of the user--anyone with a trigger finger could do it. The same can't be said for her crossbow.]}

Clearly you're not new to weapons that require skill.

Just can't get used to it. [ she shrugs, and for faith it's explanation enough. she'd already tried to think of explanations, but considering the juniors all seemed just dandy with the metal faith constantly came up empty. ] Some kinda A-list slayer problem I guess. Me, and B both don't really do guns. Though I heard she used a bazooka once, so maybe I'm the problem child yet again.

[ though she does seem to have the slayer tendency to ramble and speak as if everyone present has the necessary context. ]

Can't get used to it... _{[Repeated with no small amount of doubt.]} You can strike a target with those arrow bolts, and you're in a world devoid of all sense and reason, but guns are too much?

_{[Another peculiarity about Faith to add to her often confusing colloquialisms.]}

Should I bother asking what you're talking about?

_{[What's a slayer? Or a bazooka, for that matter?]}

[ either she's amused with the fact that victor is finally outright asking instead of inferring, or she enjoys being something of a conundrum. either way, faith smirks and nods, conceding a time out on their unspoken game. ]

I'm a vampire slayer. Short story? There's only supposed to be one, but then she died and I came along even though she came back. [ brief pause to let victor chew on that for a second, but faith doesn't stop for too long. ] The two of us? Known as the a-list because we're the last ones called the normal way. There's a bunch now, but we magicked out their slayerness on purpose.

[ one more pause before faith nods at the gun. ]

The newbies are all just fine with firearms. Me, not so much.

_{[Now vampires are something he knows, and his expression changes with the recognition of the creatures that had been plaguing London--and walking the halls of the mansion here, as it turns out.

He's silent for a beat, eyes hooded, and then:]}

I may need the long story.

_{[After all of that, Victor only has more questions, not less.]}

[ it doesn't disappear, but faith's smile fades a little. he may not have meant it as a challenge, but there's a dead girl inside faith that thinks it is one. ]

Need's a strong word.

[ she should have known. her flippant nature and confusing words normally put people off, make them skirt and change the subject. she really should have known better, considering how very piercing victor tends to be.

even now she's kicking herself for the somewhat visceral reaction. paranoid, always so paranoid. ]

I mean, it's not like you're a vampire, right?

_{[He tilts his head in unspoken question, target practice pushed to the back of his mind for the time being. Had she expected him not to ask?]}

Is that a serious question?

_{[It's clear he doesn't think it is. The creatures he'd most familiar with wouldn't be walking around in broad daylight, making conversation and using man-made weapons to defend themselves.]}

Was yours?

[ her retort is lacking fire. she's legitimately caught off guard at this. perhaps she'd forgotten how ... acute victor tends to be? the idea that other dimensions' suns have differently rules is something she doesn't even think to explain. ]

_{[When will Faith begin behaving logically? That's the real question.]}

Did you think I was asking to be facetious? I'm well aware of vampires, not... vampire slayers.

_{[Whatever those are. The way his tongue curls around the term shows how odd he finds it. A year ago, he would've felt the same about vampires, but now he's learned not to underestimate them and the reality of them. The same with magic.]}

And I am human, for future reference. Should I be asking the same of you? Are you more than what you seem?

I'm human.

[ though a quick response, it again lacks conviction. just because a person's human doesn't make them safe. if anything it's the bits of her that are human which make her dangerous.

so maybe it's not a huge deal to share a little. a little. ]

All right, look. The first slayer was made by a bunch of old guys who made a demon merge with some girl. No more demon in here though. [ she taps her chest. ] Been too long, or something.

_{[All right, he's looking... but at what? Victor questions her with his eyes, still needing more to go on before the whole picture reveals itself.]}

You haven't said what a "slayer" is.

_{[But he knows what demons are. May or may not have even stared into the eyes of one.

That, along with the time he's spent here in Wonderland, keep Victor from scoffing at the doctrinal image she presents of demons invading the bodies of young women.]}

You say they're made--what you describe is demon possession?

_{[What other term for it is there? That's what it sounds like to him.]}

[ were victor speaking with buffy, he might get a much more thorough answer. he might even get a lecture and the whole spiel but as it is victor is blessed with the presence of the rogue slayer. and while she may fight on the side of good these days, she's still not the whole package. ]

Yeah, I guess. Something about smoke and then poof this chick could run toe to toe with the demons and fight 'em off for the raisins that made her.

[ maybe she does realize how inadequate the information is, because she shrugs. nearly looks apologetic as her face softens. ]

Look, I'm kind of the budget slayer, here. I can teach you to shoot this thing but running down the history of what I am's a stretch. Unless you find one it in that library or whatever.

Actually, I think the biggest difficulty would be in making sense of your vocabulary. Has anyone ever told you speak a language of your own?

_{[Victor's always walked a fine line between rudeness and candidness, but he doesn't mean it in an abrasive way. He's mostly at a loss for what to do with her when she starts referring to "raisins," and he lifts an eyebrow at her, teasing in his own way.]}

I can't say I'm fluent in it.

[ her face screws up for a moment, a mixture of confusion and annoyance plain in her expression. were she not already feeling insecure, she may be in a better position to shake it off and allow it to roll on as the benign barb it's meant to be.

she's just a little too stressed to translate that telltale eyebrow. the sting of her own ignorance regarding her nature is deep and hardly fresh. ]

I wasn't supposed to exist. So if you don't like my info, hope for the Golden Girl to show up and she'll give you the four-one-one. Oh right, sorry-- she'll inform you of the details you desire.

[ the last phrasing is nearly spat out before she turns to grab her crossbow from the ground and hoist it over her shoulder. ]

_{[He seems to have touched on a sore spot with his observation. Usually when he does, it's on purpose, but it would appear that he'd taken a swing in the dark and hit something. He's just not sure what, or which part of his answer had been the cause. That's unusual--oftentimes he's already figured out where best to jab someone when he does it.

As Victor watches, she draws herself together defensively, burning hot with sudden indignation, and he cocks his head like he'll divine what had set her off if he watches long enough.]}

It wasn't meant personally. I apologize if I've offended you.

_{[This is why he finds the dead easier to work with--they're easier to understand in general, no hidden vulnerabilities to stumble into.]}

Yeah, no. Don't sweat it.

[ said probably much less convincingly than she'd like, faith opts to wave a hand in the air to try and help sell it. it's a kneejerk reaction to feeling embarrassed, and especially considering she'd steered things that way. if she trusted victor better, sure. she might own up. still...

she moves out toward the target then, pulling her bolts from the wood one at a time until her hand is full. when she treads back, she avoids eye contact until she's back behind the line. ]

Gotta run anyway. Good luck with the uh--? [ a handwave toward victor's hand should hopefully translate as "target practice" and let's face it: probably better than whatever vernacular she'd have spoken. ]

_{[Always with the unfamiliar turns of phrase, this one. But the meaning is clear--she's on the run from whatever their conversation had unearthed for her.

He's done it before himself, but it's somehow strange seeing it in a woman so far removed from the time period and custom he's used to, as though by virtue of being different, people from other worlds should behave differently, too. Victor doesn't say anything until she returns from collecting her projectiles. She seems more bothered by the aftermath of her flare-up than anything else, but it's difficult to tell how she's received the apology.

At any rate, he's hardly one to meddle in people's personal affairs. He nods and leaves it at that, ignoring the weight of the gun in his hand.]}

As you wish. Good day.

[ If the zombie event had taught her anything, it was that she could never underestimate how much weaponry she had. She's already made a note to practice more weaponry for when she can't attract attention, but at the moment, she's at the shooting range, her FNP-45, a Glock 17, and a Glock 19 spread in front of her. Beside each gun are a line of bullets. She considers for a moment, then selects the Glock 19. She loads, aims, and doesn't stop firing until the gun is empty. After, she does the same with the Glock 17, her movements easy and assured.

Only when all the bullets are gone does she pause to survey her work and criticize herself. Three of the holes weren't in the cluster.

Okay. She'll start over again, then. If shit goes down again, she needs to know she can hit the bullseye, no matter what. ]

_{[Firearms, as he's come to learn, improve in the future with far less fuss involved. Ethan would have probably enjoyed the spectacle. It's not just that Sharon, practicing nearby on her own targets, is more at ease with a gun in her hands, though that's obviously true just by looking at her--it's that she can fire rounds one after the other without pause, over twenty that he counts between the two guns before he stops keeping track.

If a threat isn't dead after that, Victor doesn't know what could possibly bring it down. What's amazing to him is that she doesn't look all that impressed with what she's done when she stops for a break.]}

You're very good.

_{[He offers this sincerely, looking slightly intimidated and earnest. Had they been in a lab or an academic setting, Victor would probably feel differently, but this is hers and Ethan's jurisdiction, without a doubt.]}

[ Sharon startles and turns to blink at him, and her eyes run over him in a quick assessment. He isn't exactly STRIKE force material; she doubts he could pass the CIA physical. So already, he doesn't seem like he'd be someone Hydra would recruit.

She offers him a friendly smile and sets her gun aside. ]

Thank you. A lot of practice.

[ She eyes his own gun, and her own smile widens in appreciation. ] I haven't seen any guns like that except in books and museums. Is that what you prefer, or is it what you're stuck with? [ She leans back and starts reloading the Glock 17. She makes a face as it occurs to her how her comment could be construed. ]

Not that I'm judging. I'm not. Older pistols are an artform you don't come across much these days. I was just thinking that if you want something newer, you could try one of mine. [ She hesitated. ] I wouldn't mind trying out your pistol, either, if you want to switch for a couple minutes.

Oh, it's...

_{[She draws attention back to the heavy weapon in his hand, and he looks at it like it's a paperweight that he's not sure why he's holding, either. It's what he'd been shown how to use, but to others from far-off times and places, he can see how it would seem like a relic. The same with himself, dressed and styled in a way that appears to have gone of fashion a century or more ago.]}

I believe it's standard for my time.

_{[So yes, "stuck with" is perhaps closest to correct.]}

The man who introduced me to them would might appreciate that slant. He's a precision shooter. _{[His eyebrows lift as he looks at the array of firearms between them, a self-deprecating awareness in the act. Victor knows he's far from Ethan's level, and offers by way of explanation:]} I hadn't touched a gun before in my life until recently. You're free to try this one, but you'd have to show me how yours works. Their mechanisms seem... different.

_{["Different" as in "alien and confusing."]}

[ Sharon looks him up and down again, notes the era his clothes are from - or tries to, since she's not a history or fashion expert - and then makes a face. ]

Oh my God. Sorry. I'm still- [ She shakes her head. ] I'm still getting used to how people are here from all different times and places.

[ She moves aside to give him a better view of the Glock-19 and the FNP-45. ] I'm Sharon. 2014. You?

_{[He hadn't gone with a neck tie today, but suspenders and a waistcoat do make regular appearances in Victor's wardrobe, so Sharon might get a sense that something is not quite up-to-the-minute about his general Victorian aesthetic. Someone hasn't quite learned to diversify yet, unfortunately.]}

It's... fine. _{[He looks resigned to his fate.]} It's not something one usually has to get used to. The impossible made possible requires a bit of getting used to.

_{[Almost shyly, like he's afraid of making this difference in culture and time periods more awkward than it already is, Victor approaches slowly, splitting a glance between her and all of her many weapons. She doesn't have that many, truthfully, but they look like a lot from where he's standing.]}

The year is 1891 for me. _{[In England, of course, but that part she could probably figure out from the accent alone. He offers his free hand.]} Victor. Victor... Frankenstein.

_{[You better believe he's steeling himself for weird looks that might earn him. He's resigned to that, too.]}

1891. Wow. I'm from 2014. [ She grins and shakes his hand. That explains so much about him. The way he was dressed, the gun, using proper grammar. She wonders if there's someone here 123 years from her future.

She also has to wonder if her last name will ever hold the same connotations his does. Of course, there was no way he was that Frankenstein. The poor guy must have put up with a lot of crap if anyone else made the connections she did. ]

And Frankenstein? Not Fronk-in-steen?

[ More importantly, the time difference gives her an idea of what she needs to show him. She holds up the Glock 17. ]

This one's called a Glock 17. It's the most popular weapon of choice for law enforcement. I don't think you need to worry about extra ammo right now, so you're left with a magazine of 17 bullets. [ She slips the magazine out to show him and clicks it back in. ]

Basic gun rules. Always assume the gun is loaded. Never aim a gun at something - and especially someone - that you don't intend to shoot. Keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot. This is the safety. They weren't around in 1891, but as long as the safety is on, you can't accidentally - or purposefully - shoot the gun.

Here. [ She holds the gun out for him to take, holding the gun so it's aimed at the target. ]

Let's see what you've got.

_{[The "wow" just about says it all.]}

I know the feeling. The pleasure is mine.

_{[He grasps her hand in a quick shake, firm and polite, before stepping back with a wry curl to his lips. In a little less than three months' time, he'll have officially been living like this for a full year--time enough to process the huge divides in time and his legacy as Frankenstein.

Getting comfortable with them are other beasts. The mispronunciation is, he assumes, some kind of reference, but he's not aware what it's from. He gives her a curious look.]}

Just the former, I'm afraid.

_{[But quickly enough, they turn to the firearms. Sharon's explanation is efficient and gets to the point, much like her slim, modernized weapons. Efficient killing tools, to be sure. Victor blows out a breath, impressed.]}

So many bullets for such a small thing... Remarkable how more dangerous weapons become. _{[He shoots her another look, this time gauging her intention.]} Are you sure? I didn't mean to interrupt your practice.

[ Talk about the curse of a name. Oh, well. At least he didn't have the last name Hitler or Mussolini. The poor guy must get a lot of flack.

She grins and his look and nods. ]

I need a break anyway.

Stand here. Feet apart, like this. [ She parts her feet to demonstrate. ] Shoulders up level.

[ And she'll decline to enter into a philosophical discussion on how weapons have become more dangerous because the people using them have, or maybe people became more dangerous because the weapons allowed it. Ha. As if. No, people are dangerous.

And they should be able to defend themselves against dangerous people. ]

Go ahead. Take a shot.

_{[A break? It had looked to him like she was just hitting her stride, but then she seems to have the bar set higher than him--he would consider it an improvement to consistently hit a target at all, let alone refining his accuracy beyond that.

He blinks a few times in silent debate. If she's willing to advise him, how could he turn down an opportunity like that?]}

If you're certain it's no trouble. You clearly have a sense of what you're doing.

_{[Setting his down, Victor takes the gun she offers tentatively, looking it over. A far cry from the heavy revolver Ethan had taught him on, requiring one cock the hammer before each and every shot. The principles of steadying his stance and straightening his shoulders bare some resemblance to Ethan's lessons as well; doing as she suggests, he wonders where she'd learned this, and what possibly for.

Had mortal danger been a motivator as it had for him?

He fidgets for a few moments, raising the gun to stare down it at the target, focus intense. Then he holds his breath and and pulls the trigger. The noise no longer surprises him, but he is surprised at how simple and seamless her gun feels.

Even so, despite his best efforts to line the shot up properly, the round lodges in the outermost circle.

Ugh.]}

It's so light--it's impressive how light it is. _{[Finally, Victor releases his breath to turn to Sharon.]} Another try?

[ She grins as he manages to hit the target, if not in a vital organ. She gives him a nod as he asks for another try. ]

Try shooting as you exhale. When you practice, it's best to try and stay relaxed. That way your muscles develop a sort of instinct for how to shoot better. Trust me, tense muscles don't help.

[ Neither does anger. As much as she may try to harness her rage to make her better, she suspects it works better as a motivator in the general sense. When she actually puts in the work, it's better for her to focus on the technical aspects - how to better shoot, how to better punch, how to better block. If she's overcome by anger, she makes more mistakes.

She moves closer for a second and gently pushes down his right shoulder a little bit. ] Try that.

And I've got a couple more cartridges. Let's see how close you get.

Why are you working on shooting, anyway? Just defense, or something more?

[ She should have asked sooner, but the fact of the matter was that he didn't look like a threat at all. But Steve had warned her that some of the residents here couldn't be trusted... She should be more vigilant. ]

Easier said than done, I think.

_{[Being a doctor, it should be easy to exert control over his body, but it's not. It's usually never that easy and he's never been a terribly relaxed person--forever knotted up with fears, and regrets, and hopes, and thoughts, too many for any one person to handle, is closer to the truth.

But he tries, forcing himself to relax and obediently dropping his shoulder at her prompting. Handling a weapon had seemed easier when the vampires had been present, but perhaps that had been the threat of death and dismemberment talking.

Meticulously lining himself up for another shot, he spares a glance for her, showing little reaction to implication buried in the question.]}

Is there any other reason besides defense?

_{[What other logical reason is there to pick up a weapon? Even thoughts of murdering Caliban had been fuelled by an interest in self-defense.]}

You mean you find it difficult to relax when you've been kidnapped to a foreign world where everything is run on magic and people are here from different times and different world, forced to go through hellish events for the place's amusement?

[ She lifts an eyebrow at him and shakes her head. ] You're a weird one all right, Frankenstein.

[ She cracks the slightest of grins at his question, though. Is it possible for anyone to be this genuinely naive? But then, given the time period he's from, when guns were far less common, maybe he meant it. Regardless, there's no sign that he's trying to deceive her, no sign that he's Hydra. She crosses her arms and leans against the wall, relaxing a little as she looks between him and his target. ]

Some. But if you're not learning to shoot for any reason but self-defense, there's no reason we need to talk about it.

_{[Despite himself, he feels his lips quirk at her joke. Perhaps it's his momentary amusement that saves him from overthinking his next shot--scrunching his nose up, he forces himself to exhale and fires. The round hits not far from the last, but within the cluster of circles this time.]}

I think I can see the appeal in this model. It's easy to hold.

_{[But then he returns to her earlier remark, still smiling at one corner of his mouth.]}

You mean would I pick up a gun to use it on others? Not quite. I wouldn't say I was fond of them before. I'm a doctor--I study how to preserve life, not take it away on a whim. But it's... become necessary to change that view. Is that how it was for you?

_{[Unless that falls under the category of "things we don't need to talk about."]}

[ She purses her lips, debating how much information to give away. ]

I signed up for law enforcement, actually. So no. I've been firing guns since I was a kid.

[ She'd gotten into it to save people, of course, but- well. Things don't always go according to plan.

She straightens as she assesses his aim, then nods faintly to herself. ]

It's more than that. It holds a magazine of seventeen bullets. That's seventeen shots before you have to reload. So you don't have to stop after each shot. Seriously. Try and do some damage.

What kind of... medical stuff are you trained in? Maybe we can do a trade. Shooting lessons in exchange for more than basic first aid.

[ She'd talk to someone else to learn modern first aid, but she's curious about extending her medical knowledge, and... well. She might as well get something out of teaching him to shoot, right? And there are worse things than knowing medical stuff. ]

Law enforcement?

_{[Victor echoes it with faint curiosity. A woman in law enforcement isn't exactly conventional for England in 1891. Perhaps a girl growing up with dreams of being a constable is a sign of their different cultures, or just as likely, a sign of differing times; either way, he's seen too much not to believe the fairer sex are capable of more than what common society claims.

He stops what he's doing long enough to turn the gun in his hand as she speaks, thumbing the spot where the magazine disappears into the pistol. Seventeen? His counting had been almost spot on. But then the question steals his attention, another flash of curious amusement crossing his face.]}

You wish to study medicine? _{[Upon reflection, it's no more unexpected than his interest in shooting, he supposes.]} The easier question to answer would be what don't I know. In general terms, my specialties are the human body and surgery, but I doubt you'd find my teaching skills agreeable.

_{[He doesn't go easy on anyone, least of all himself. Like Ethan, she'd probably find him insufferable.]}

A place called SHIELD. Best of the best. [ And she was proud of that. Or at least, she'd been proud of it until it had turned out that it was rotten from the inside all along. ]

[ As he hedges at the prospect of teaching her, she lifts an eyebrow. His teaching skills might be disagreeable, huh? He probably doesn't realize that he's just made lessons with him sound even more tempting. She forces a somewhat reckless grin. ]

You really think your teaching style is worse than a woman going through military and spy training?

I'm not familiar, but that is far after my time. I can only assume your female predecessors would look kindly on how the tides change.

_{[Then again...]}

But perhaps they don't change all that much if your sex is still of concern. _{[He mimics Sharon by lifting his eyebrow back at her at her remark, her amusement kindling his own. An odd thing to be amused by, but most things here are odd.]} I take no issue with women undertaking medical training, but in my experience few of either sex have the mental agility to do what I do.

_{[Victor doesn't discriminate; when you're him, it's open season on everyone's acumen, man or woman. But she hadn't asked to keep pace with him and learn how to reanimate the dead--she'd suggested something of equal value, which isn't quite the same thing.]}

What skills of mine would you consider a fair trade for yours? Are you interested by something in particular?

[ Her grin is dark, dangerous. ] Oh, sex is always a matter of concern, one way or another. Thankfully, most of those people are the kind I get to shoot, or my boss tells off, and I just get to fantasize about shooting them. [ She shrugs. What harm is a little daydream, right? ]

But don't worry. I won't shoot you. And I can keep hold of my wits just fine. I've had my hands inside people before. I'm not squeamish about blood.

You're the only medical expert of any sort I'm aware of here, so... medical knowledge. Anything that can be used to keep people alive. [ She'd had enough knowledge to keep Fury alive until until medics could get to him, but she doesn't think she'll have medics rushing to help her here. She has to prepare for the worst. ]

_{[With a grin like that, her natural beauty takes on a predatorial gleam, turning soft edges sharp. Despite the fact he'd been the first one to bring the term "sex" into the conversation, he's slightly embarrassed at the way she says it so outspokenly and glances away for a brief second.

When he looks back, his look is hooded. Considering.]}

I should be relieved you'll refrain from bloodshed.

_{[Victor still manages a wry remark, but the humor fades in light of the request, replaced with curiosity. In another time and place, he would have refused on the grounds of having too little time and too many secrets, but now both his work and his private life have been scattered to the wind thanks to this place. He's no longer as occupied as he'd been at home, and to tell the truth, her desire to learn is intriguing if just to see what would happen if he did try something so ludicrous as teach.]}

Have you not been told about the clinic yet? I've spoken to the woman who oversees it, a Dr. Meyers. As far as I understand it, its services come with little to no cost and she has an interest in volunteers.

OPEN | two can be undone by three

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject