orangetoughguy | phone post

All right.

[ Not knowing what else to do, Eames pretty much just hangs up and goes back to trying to keep pressure on his stomach, waiting for Freddy's freckled face. He breathes slow, concentrating on not panicking, despite not knowing what's happened to him, where the attack came from. He didn't hear a gunshot, only felt it. ]

[RING RING RING HOPE THAT DIDN'T SCARE YOU EAMES.]

[ He fumbles a bit with the device but gets it open to speakerphone, at least! ]

Yeah.

I'm a minute away.

[Listen closely, Eamesy. That's the sound of a car coming through Xanadu. Yep. Don't ask how he managed...]

Great.

[ Pancake has taken to laying across his ankles, and he wiggles them around a bit, ensuring he can still feel them as well as to dislodge the pup. The car comes as some sort of surprise - and here Eames'd thought he might have to cling to life on the back of Orange's motorcycle. ]

Don't wreck yourself. [ It's a bit of a dry note. ]

[And do what with Pancake, let him perch on the handlebars? Terrible idea. Vroom vroom, the vintage car in a cool minty color turns just right to line up the rear passenger door at Eames' feet. He's mindful of the dog but admittedly that bastard's really low to the ground so watch it, mutt!]

Fuck you're a mess.

[He says as he climbs out, phone off and tucked into his pocket. Freddy's got a bandaged hand himself, nothing quite as lethal as a gutshot. Already he's thinking about ways to use the leash in case his mango can't stand up.]

[ Eames lets the phone drop to his lap, eyes focused on the stark white of the bandage against Freddy's already pale skin. ]

I looked great earlier today, [ he quips a bit grimly, offering the other man a quick quirk of his mouth. Pancake has hopped off his legs, first scared by the car, but he recognises Orange well enough, a happy bark tapering off into a small whine.

Eames grunts a bit, trying to get his legs under him so he can stand and get into the car. ]

I'll bet.

[Freddy grabs the fallen phone and pockets it. Arthur would kill him if they left it behind rendering Eames incapable of contact.]

Hey mutt, get in the car. Can you do that?

[He asks Pancake while putting his hands on Eames to help the guy up. He's bigger and taller than Freddy but the younger man's no weakling and he makes a good support.]

Don't make me drag you into the back, it'll hurt like a fuckin' bitch. [He 'threatens' Eames as a form of encouragement.]

[ Pancake's never been in a car before, but he's smart enough to get the general jist, hopping into the back and clambering up on the seat with a slightly confused wag of his tail. Eames is more than appreciative of the help, though, finally able to stand with a short grimace. Maybe Freddy's been cutting back on the Mexican and working out more, hey. ]

It already hurts like one, [ he grits out as they make the short distance to the car, trying to ease down into it as one hand goes back to clutching his gut. This is far worse than the thigh incident, he has to say, but at least they don't have to walk all the way.

Funny how they keep getting tangled up like this. ]

I didn't hear anything. [ A gunshot, he means, waving Pancake further into the car so he has more room in the back. ]

[Oh god bloody paw prints on the upholstery to add insult to injury. And hey now his metabolism is magic.]

Silencer?

[No stupid it's a curse. Aw fuck look at all this blood he's leaving in the seat not to mention Freddy's clothes. He waits until Eames is fully inside the vehicle before he says:]

I'm taking you to the hospital.

I don't think so.

[ He didn't think he'd been in a good line of sight, either. Closing his eyes, he only nods at Freddy's statement, though he grunts somewhat dryly. ]

If they pin me for excessive defense again... [ Eames trails off, concentrating on keeping his breathing steady. Going into panic or shock isn't going to help either of them, pressing his hand against another warm gush of blood. ]

Is this Saya's?

They're not gonna.

[Because Freddy's going to feed them a great line of bullshit and uh maybe call in a favor or two to some hospital friends. He shuts the door and dives into the driver's seat.]

What is?

[He's pulling out with no regard as to whether or not Pancake's got his seatbelt on!]

[ Pancake will probably end up sliding all over the seats but hey, he can handle it, his fat rolls will cushion him against danger - though Arthur might get pissed about all the blood on his fur. As for Eames, he just grunts, resting his head against the window of the door. ]

The car, man.

[ Then, as an aside: ] I should've finished off my will this year.

[Poor puppy.]

No. She'd kill me.

[Because of all the blood, though really nowadays Freddy has some leverage where she's concerned. Wait a second.]

Why do you have a will? [This better be a joke!!]

[ Eames tries to give Freddy his best withering look from the backseat, but it's only a pained, fatigued glower. This face isn't really prone to looking altogether too upset so it might be akin to finding Samara on your television, but whatever. ]

We have the chance of being killed every other weekend in this bloody place - or outright disappearing - and you're asking me why I'm constructing a will?

[ Also whose car is this... ]

I look like a burst grapefruit. [ Fuck, fuck, fuck.

When Arthur died, he came back - but without a heartbeat, always cold to the touch. The price to get so much of a glimmer of warmth back, Eames still thinks, was too much. ]

If I pass out, you're my proxy.

[He drives the car like somebody stole it for him. Also what's with that face Eames stop making it!]

Am I in it? I don't wanna get left with another animal.

[That bird of Ariadne's, while worth a heavy weight in sentimental value, was not something he and White could keep for long. The most important part is Freddy made sure he sent it somewhere it could stay alive! (The zoo.)]

No shit, motherfucker, you've been shot in the belly--!! I can't take that kind of responsibility!

[ What kind of assholes parse off their gifts :|

oh wait these ones. ]

What year were you born?

[ He's going somewhere with is if he doesn't black out before he gets there, shifting (sliding, rather) uncomfortably in the seat as he presses his hands harder into his abdomen. ]

Your birthday.

[Better parsed off and alive than held onto and...well. If Ariadne ever does return the bird ought to be there for her and that's that!]

Uh, 1965?

[Where are you going with this, Eamesy. Because he's rolling and bleeding and probably getting squished with the dog Freddy doesn't hesitate to answer.]

December 21.

You freckled arse.

[ Have another look as Eames attempts to straighten up in the backseat. All of these nice clothes are going to be ruined by blood, thanks City. Also his stamina. Also the whole losing gallons of blood thing. ]

You're older than me, the least you could do is be my proxy!

No I'm not look at you look at me! [Still tight scrotum compared to the leathery thing Eames has.] What if I do it wrong!

[He's never had to manage anyone's personal affects before. Booking things into evidence doesn't count. Fortunately the hospital's not far away. Eames isn't going to die. Right??]

What if your dog wants to leave home!

The dog's more Arthur's than mine, anyway. [ Even if... maybe that's missing the point, but whatever. And even if Eames ends up walking the fat dog plenty of times because Arthur works late at the casino and thus sleeps late. Even if mostly that just entails letting him out into the backyard, these days - Eames should have gone for that option today, apparently. ]

You can't do it wrong. I want to be cremated and I don't believe in life support. See? It's easy.

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