How To Say ILY To A Killer

Jeong had taken longer than Jett thought to get used to. Jeong needed a lot. It wasn't necessarily that the tiger was cling, per say. Jett had met more dependent people, but Jeong did need things. Things he didn't like to tell Jett and Jett had never been good at reading other people's needs. So, yes, he was often late when he said he wouldn't be, and at times he brought people home to fool around, sometimes he just stayed out all night. Living with Jett was a good way to 'see it all' but even Jeong hadn't seen every bad thing. At least, not yet.

That night, when Jett came home, he'd pushed the door open with his shoulder, holding his gory side. His face was pale and a cold sweat had broken out on his forehead. Christ. Silver hurt. It hurt like a bitch. It was burning, sizzling. Once inside, Jett shut the door and slumped against the wall hard. He slid to the ground, leaving a streak of gore on the wall.

"Fuck. Sorry for being late," he laughed a little. "Mind grabbing me the first aid kit from the bathroom?" Jett had been shot before, even with silver, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. There were certain pains the Skinwalker liked. This was not among them. It felt like acid was ingraining itself into his bones. Everything ached, and if he didn't clean it soon, he'd be shit out of luck and sick for days.

Jett laughed breathlessly. God, that hurt. That was worse. He felt cold, though he hadn't lost enough blood for that. It was an effect of the silver. Hot and cold. Burning and chill. Like a terrible fever. "You'll have to clean the silver out. I ripped the bullet out, I think. Don't want it getting infected. Silver is.... not good."

He breathed out, closing his eyes and trying not to focus on Jeong's work. He was dizzy. Distant. He should have been talking but for once, Jett wasn't sure what he wanted to say. "Well if you kill me, that kind of... ruins the point of me not passing out, right?"

Blood kept coming. Over the ground, over his clothing. His pants. His skin. Jett liked blood, even his own. He'd always been fascinated by it. Like names, blood held power. So much power. He could feel the tickle of it over his hands, and it made him smile, if only slightly.

"Don't be angry. I got you a present. Hrng, probably -- we're going to have to wait on that for now, I think."

Jett's mind wasn't in the best place to remember how to clean the wound properly. He motioned to the bottle of disinfectant. "Just pour that in the wound and start stitching. We can clean up the blood after." Okay, the stitching was going to be a bitch. Jett didn't bother retorting to any of Jeong's threats and jabs. He had to focus on things right now.

"See if there's an exit wound for the bullet." There wasn't, because naturally things were difficult. "Some fragments might still be in the wound. That -- we can't sew those in. I'd -- well, bad things would happen.

"Yeah, it'll be worth it. Give me something to talk about. Want me to sew the wound?" Shakily, Jett held out his hand. He was fully capable of sewing his own wound, though he'd have rather not. It was more difficult than letting someone else do the work.

Jett breathed in sharply at the sting the disinfectant gave his wound. Yeah, that would do it. A few pieces of silver pulled out later, and Jett felt somewhat better. He wondered if Jeong had gotten all the pieces, but he wasn't sound enough to question.

Jett accepted the shirt and bit into it as Jeong took to patching him up. Jett was, more silent than may have been expected. He groaned and made a few pained sounds. His eyes squeezed shut, and he gripped at his pants, but he didn't cry out.

He could tell Jeje was nervous and despite himself, Jett spat the shirt out and smiled weakly at his friend. His voice was soft, both for comfort and due to weakness. "Hey, you're pretty good at this. You do this before?" It'd have sounded more suggestive if Jett could gather the energy.

Jett winced when he saw Jeong's handiwork. No doubt that would leave a nasty scar. Gently, he reached out and took the rag to gently swab away the remaining blood. "It does its job," was all he said in response. "Grab me some Tylenol, please." Yeah, that wouldn't help the pain much, but it would be enough. Jett was used to being stabbed, shot, you name it. Sometimes, he even enjoyed it.

"Just gimme a second and I'll be up and grabbing you your present, eh?" He closed his eyes, breathing slow and steady, relaxing. He let his mind work through the pain. He'd wait for some meds before attempting to stand. When Jeje had left to get the medication, Jett tied off the end of the stitching, having not wanted Jeong to know that, well, that needed to be done.