[A. 339 Brady Lane]
[It's a lovely Saturday; the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and Mika Whitepaws is holding a box addressed to her! What is it? What could it be? She turns it over in her hands, looking surprised, then shakes it a little to see if she can hear anything rattling inside. No, the box makes no noise, and it's small and
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It depends on the wound's location.
Do you need help, Miss Whitepaws? I'm not actually a nurse, but I know enough about gunshot wounds to be of some help.
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[Her voice rasps when she makes a derisive huff.]
They were trying for a headshot and missed. Probably thought I'd bleed to death when they left me to rot.
I know. It's been a few weeks, everything should be closed up, I just...probably should be on bed rest and taking some kind of medication, but I don't remember. I was so drugged when they were telling me about it, everything's a haze. I hadn't even been home from the hospital for a full day when I was brought here.
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The wounds do need to be checked daily, and cleaned if they aren't completely closed.
[She sighs on the other side of the line.]
Someone probably needs to check look for you though; it can't be easy to do on your own. Are they bandaged now? If not, I can bring bandages from the hospital and come clean them myself.
I know that much, at least.
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I hadn't even thought about that part, and I fell earlier. I can't check the wounds myself, not easily. I think they're closed, but if my fall messed things up, I won't be able to tell.
No, they aren't. I didn't know if they needed to be, I haven't bothered getting undressed since the package arrived this morning, and I was dressed for work.
Thanks, Riza. Somebody else was offering to check me, but she's a psychologist, and I...well. I don't really trust shrinks right now.
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Whoa! Mika, are you--?
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[She cocks her head to look at him over her shoulder, her ears twitching toward him. Her arms trembling, she slowly pushes herself to her feet, only to have her right leg almost buckle as soon as she puts her weight on it.]
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Yeah, I'm fine. My right leg's just a bit weak, is all. Hellbeast got me in the ghost town, nearly chewed it off.
Don't mind the help, though.
[She glances down at the photo in her hand and sighs. It's a photo from sometime after she was found in the basement of the haunted house. One that she knew had never been taken.]
This town has a hell of a sense of humor, Quinn.
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Do you need any help?
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[She cocks her head, her ears twitching as she thinks about this.]
I think I'm covered for the moment. I'm not sure.
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