Thirteen

[offthepigs]

A quart of rum and a bottle of cough medicine. That's all I needed to complete my night. What, with my charred turkey, it's skin crusty and black, and my usual sense of American pride. My hopes and dreams, and a little red typewriter with the words "Property of Fat City" painted on it's side. Is it stolen? The good Lord only knows. And I thank him

Comments

[suitcaseofnails]

I've been feeling rather generous these past couple of days, darling, so I'm sending you a little gift of various narcotics.

[offthepigs]

Greatly appreciated...but I'd prefer a doctor, at any point.

[suitcaseofnails]

A doctor? Mmkay, I think I know of a couple that could be talked into house calls.

[offthepigs]

Any specific experience with gunshot wounds is preferred.

[modern_truths]

...Good Lord, I really shot him.

...

[offthepigs]

What do you want?

[modern_truths]

You're very talkative for one who has just gotten shot. Is it only in the leg?

[offthepigs]

The left.

[suitcaseofnails]

[and Elendira recruits Lilith to take a look at Raoul, so it shall be an interesting meeting to be sure.]