[ Baby indeed, Tim's feeling quite infirm needing to be helped along to the bathroom. He doesn't resent it, of course, but instead uses the time afforded by Ann's help to think of what to do next: to make use of not only the first-aid kit she keeps around, but the first-aid kit he keeps in his utility belt. He knows he'll have a hard time convincing Ann he's mended worse, so he holds his tongue... knowing all too well that generally, the wounds he's sustaining are still egregious. That doesn't change just because he does this shit on the regular. ]
Worst case scenario, you could always take me there. See what good it does to use some healing magic.
[ It's like he read her mind. Or more accurately, has been a quick study of how things are done in the Metaverse. ]
Right now, though... whatever it takes to patch me up. Please. Don't care how much it might sting.
[ Despite being the one in pain, Tim seems more invested in assuaging Ann's fears. There's a calm deliberation in his voice, like he's trying not to let himself freak out either. Like it's indeed more practical to keep things as calm as possible, in a way that ought to steady her hands and make the work of patching him up as precise as can be.
Before Tim takes off the bandages, he uses one of his feet to scoop out his utility belt from among the pile of his fallen costume. He grabs the belt with one hand and searches for the first-aid kit with the other. Upon recovering it, he simply places it on some empty space on the sink countertop. ]
Okay. We may need this for later.
[ It's while speaking that he finally undoes his bandages, exposing not only the offending wound, but several more bruises and cuts that hardly compare. Stuff that'll heal eventually, things that'll eventually join his scar collection... but damn. He really bit off more than he could chew this time. ]
It's surreal. I didn't even see some of these cuts form. It's like the demonic forces that came at me were invisible.
[ Despite incorporeal demons being a Hollywood staple, Tim's just shocked because he's come to know so many corporeal demons. Etrigan and Kid Devil come to mind.
His astonishment doesn't distract him from the matter at hand, though. To make things easier for them both, Tim leans on the sink, his unwounded side facing it. As a result he stretches the opposite side, the one sustaining the wound, to give it as much exposure as possible. ]
Still a big nick, all things considered. Feels like more would be coming out of me if it was a real puncture.
[ Yet a steady flow of blood's leaking out of him now. Dark red. Skin was obviously penetrated, and a vein had very likely been cut. Better that than an artery. ]
I think I'll still have to stitch this, Metaverse or not. Got some in my first-aid kit.
If you've got a gauze on you, just... I don't know. Wash your hands first, then apply pressure on my wound.
Gonna need five minutes of that to stop the bleeding. Then some antiseptic, and I'll stitch myself up.
[ For him, this is all still a tad unusual. That's the reason that suddenly, he chuckles softly to himself. Like, when faced with the strangeness of this situation, he can't help but laugh... even if that might fail to reassure Ann. Despite the pain he's going through, the ridiculousness of this situation is not lost on him. Its avoidability.
Thing is, he's more used to this kind of medical talk around Alfred, or Leslie Thompkins. People who are used to seeing the likes of Bruce and Tim in such states. People who'd also lecture them on their own recklessness. Reprimanding them for how far they're willing to push themselves for the mission.
Tim just never expected to burden Ann with this. This likely won't be something any one breakfast buffet can make up for. ]
no subject
Worst case scenario, you could always take me there. See what good it does to use some healing magic.
[ It's like he read her mind. Or more accurately, has been a quick study of how things are done in the Metaverse. ]
Right now, though... whatever it takes to patch me up. Please. Don't care how much it might sting.
[ Despite being the one in pain, Tim seems more invested in assuaging Ann's fears. There's a calm deliberation in his voice, like he's trying not to let himself freak out either. Like it's indeed more practical to keep things as calm as possible, in a way that ought to steady her hands and make the work of patching him up as precise as can be.
Before Tim takes off the bandages, he uses one of his feet to scoop out his utility belt from among the pile of his fallen costume. He grabs the belt with one hand and searches for the first-aid kit with the other. Upon recovering it, he simply places it on some empty space on the sink countertop. ]
Okay. We may need this for later.
[ It's while speaking that he finally undoes his bandages, exposing not only the offending wound, but several more bruises and cuts that hardly compare. Stuff that'll heal eventually, things that'll eventually join his scar collection... but damn. He really bit off more than he could chew this time. ]
It's surreal. I didn't even see some of these cuts form. It's like the demonic forces that came at me were invisible.
[ Despite incorporeal demons being a Hollywood staple, Tim's just shocked because he's come to know so many corporeal demons. Etrigan and Kid Devil come to mind.
His astonishment doesn't distract him from the matter at hand, though. To make things easier for them both, Tim leans on the sink, his unwounded side facing it. As a result he stretches the opposite side, the one sustaining the wound, to give it as much exposure as possible. ]
Still a big nick, all things considered. Feels like more would be coming out of me if it was a real puncture.
[ Yet a steady flow of blood's leaking out of him now. Dark red. Skin was obviously penetrated, and a vein had very likely been cut. Better that than an artery. ]
I think I'll still have to stitch this, Metaverse or not. Got some in my first-aid kit.
If you've got a gauze on you, just... I don't know. Wash your hands first, then apply pressure on my wound.
Gonna need five minutes of that to stop the bleeding. Then some antiseptic, and I'll stitch myself up.
[ For him, this is all still a tad unusual. That's the reason that suddenly, he chuckles softly to himself. Like, when faced with the strangeness of this situation, he can't help but laugh... even if that might fail to reassure Ann. Despite the pain he's going through, the ridiculousness of this situation is not lost on him. Its avoidability.
Thing is, he's more used to this kind of medical talk around Alfred, or Leslie Thompkins. People who are used to seeing the likes of Bruce and Tim in such states. People who'd also lecture them on their own recklessness. Reprimanding them for how far they're willing to push themselves for the mission.
Tim just never expected to burden Ann with this. This likely won't be something any one breakfast buffet can make up for. ]