we're always running scared but holding knives
"S...wh-- oh gods fucking damn it," Isla snaps as she - luckily, as it happens - notices the warping of Remi's fingers and the careless restraint against his wrist. A commotion occurs over the wendigo's head at that point, as someone frets about his claws, dithers with the straps, and then finally Isla's own hands fasten the restraint properly to the bed.
"Thank you," she echoes back to Remi, and soon enough the wheels are back in motion properly, the walls turn Pepto Bismol pink, and a radio begins playing rain sounds. A few voices argue about whether or not it is safe left in here, only for them to promptly be dismissed by Isla and for the door to slam shut behind them.
Heaving out a long, shivering sigh and shaking the trembling from her fingers, it feels like a hundred years before she can do little more than sag back against the closed door. And when she finally does straighten up, it's with a sad smile across to the gurney Remi is strapped to. "If I come close, what are my odds of being bitten?" she asks, for all the world sounding reasonable about it.
"Thank you," she echoes back to Remi, and soon enough the wheels are back in motion properly, the walls turn Pepto Bismol pink, and a radio begins playing rain sounds. A few voices argue about whether or not it is safe left in here, only for them to promptly be dismissed by Isla and for the door to slam shut behind them.
Heaving out a long, shivering sigh and shaking the trembling from her fingers, it feels like a hundred years before she can do little more than sag back against the closed door. And when she finally does straighten up, it's with a sad smile across to the gurney Remi is strapped to. "If I come close, what are my odds of being bitten?" she asks, for all the world sounding reasonable about it.
Isla
