log post II

[orangetoughguy]

third person narrative, action bracket spam, anything goes
log post I | log post II | log post III

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[whitetwoguns]

That's the one. You got it.

[Dimick is no doctor by anyone's measure. If he can get some hot metal or something to cauterize the wound though he'd stop bleeding from the outside. Hell, could do good until they were able to get him some help. For now he'll offer up songs and bullshit to keep him awake, thinking less on expiring.]

You said you didn't know any. Know the one that starts out like I lay on the prairie and looked at the stars in the sky? Heard that one sometime ago.

[orangetoughguy]

I just--I just heard stuff. [He nods, green green eyes looking over at Lawrence Dimick.]

No, no...just what I know--shit.

[He feels a twisting pain again and the kid groans, curling like he might just ball up around Larry's fist.]

[whitetwoguns]

Listen. Listen okay?

[Fuck. He's having a hard time thinking of the exact words. The man is in agony, there's nothing he can do but get them there as fast as he can with that horse that's already getting tuckered out. There must be a bad moon rising.

The old man puts his lips together and whistles out the tune, light and none as enthusiastically as it is called for. He feels like an idiot, but it's better than allowing the squirming to continue uninterrupted. Letting go of Mr. Orange's hand is not an option.

For a second he thinks to haul him up beside him but then anyone riding past too closely would get suspicious.]

[orangetoughguy]

Okay okay, I'm listening, Larry...

[He swallows and rolls tightly towards the back of Larry's seat. Freddy tries to keep his groans down so as not to drown out the whistling. He's making an effort to listen, to memorize that melody, as if it's really gonna save him. If anything it's almost comforting...comforting enough that the kid tries to whistle it back, but his mouth is too parched and his body too weak.

So weak he starts losing consciousness.]

[whitetwoguns]

Melody first and--[he swallows watching words like if or any other indicator that the end to this day is uncertain] we'll work on the words later.

[Like they're important at all. The old man hauls at the reins to pull the horse to a stop so he can turn completely to try and get him more comfortable. Even though he's seen blood before it still is a shock. So much of it and all coming out of that body. And a shame. Larry was hoping they'd get closer but not like this. No how.]

Think I got a drop or two in my canteen.

[orangetoughguy]

[What? What? He wakes up a little too suddenly like for Freddy the moment of shutting his eyes didn't last as long as it did.]

No keep it--keep it for yourself, man. No canteen's gonna [Swallow.] save me.

[whitetwoguns]

Come on. Just a bit. [He's already pulling it out and stepping over his own seat to be near where the kid lays.]

Wet your lips. [If there was more water he'd be cleaning the man's forehead with his handkerchief. For now he'll dab the sweat there.]

[orangetoughguy]

[A little frustration creeps in for Larry's insistence. Why is he being so kind? Doesn't he know what Freddy is? Regardless, he does lick his lips, but it's more than just for wetting them. It's his anxiety.]

Keep it for yourself, Larry.