Everest
'Oh.' A thoughtful look of understanding smoothes the wrinkles from Ever's forehead as he nods, accepting this piss-poor explanation as gospel. Clothed and yet still revealed, the paramedic stands as if at attention as Mateo places the watch on his wrist (it's so heavy). "I think they've left me a movey-chair." He explains, peering around the room as if it might be hiding behind the door. He of course means a wheelchair, but if they can't it, he's pretty sure he can carry Mateo downstairs.
The wheelchair was for Mateo, right?
"Maybe I can tattoo myself while we wait for me to heal." He says conversationally, glancing down at his bare chest which is currently free of ink (though it won't be for long). 'But first I should put food in my stomach, so the ink has something to stick to."
The wheelchair was for Mateo, right?
"Maybe I can tattoo myself while we wait for me to heal." He says conversationally, glancing down at his bare chest which is currently free of ink (though it won't be for long). 'But first I should put food in my stomach, so the ink has something to stick to."
I was a dead man walking,
with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
