[It takes Rory a slightly shorter time than it might have done otherwise, when he has an owl-daemon able to swoop about, somewhat, and scope out what "up by the barn" entails, exactly. He has a bag with a couple of water bottles, bandages, and sort of....hopelessly some cloths and disinfectant, buuuuut this is a cowboy. Almost THE Cowboy. So, feeling a bit silly, he's also brought a bottle of whiskey. Do a bait and switch, maybe? Or...as a trade in order to be allowed to use slightly more advanced methods, or...something.
Fiona flies down to land on his shoulder again as he approaches the shed.]
Hello? [No...name.] It's Rory...? If you're there?
[Not like he could really shut the door on the thing, so it's almost certainly hanging ajar or half-open. Anyway, he's still mostly propped up against the wall, making sure to keep breathing. And he's actually glad to hear Rory call through the door. It wakes him up a little, at least. He's been bailed out of a mess like this before--it's something to be a little grateful for.]
[Rory pushes the door slightly further open to get in. As he comes over and starts to crouch by the cowboy, his owl flaps over to stand on a shelf. Out of the way. He does a bit of eyeballing of The Man and decides that he can do with treating the dehydration first. Probably. Hopefully. Taking out a bottle, Rory opens up the top and holds it out towards him.]
[Owl. All right, okay, so there's an owl with him. There are weirder things in this town. But the owl is unexpected, and it gets a little eyeballing itself (with, you know, the eye that can see at the moment).
As does the bottle of water. Popular legend holds that drinking too much water after getting too dried out will make you sick. That's desert folklore. So he hesitates. ... But, damn, he is thirsty. And, with a look up at Rory, he'll take it.
He'd grab it with his left hand (habit), but that's the one that's especially sprained, bruised, and burned at the moment. Right-handed, then (still cut up, but not nearly so bad).
[Okay. Various things. Sort of....nurse's kit time, now. A bit hesitantly, he reaches to at least start with The Man's left hand. Try and dab it clean, or...slightly cleaner because it needs some sort of burn ointment and....everything needs treatment, holy crap.]
Look, if you'll trust me, please...you can't drink too much of that one. It's just the next one will taste a bit weird...and it's going to properly [...rehydrate...] fix you. Medicine, basically.
[You try getting in fistfights with outlaws sometime, see how you turn out :'(]
That so?
[Medicine. All right. Anyway, he can put up with a little stinging and some weird taste if it means getting patched up. He's maybe a little hesitant, but he's not outright fighting it. (Means he trusts you.) He's just, you know, hesitant. But he'll offer his left hand, there, since that seems to be what's going on here...]
[....Rory would rather not. He'd come out of it dead. Again. Though he gets the hesitant. Hesitant is practically his middle name.]
Yep. Just....here.
[He takes the bottle of regular water, puts it down to the side, and takes out the bottle of rehydration solution he put together. Sugar and salt in the right quantities, basically, in water. It has ORS written on some masking tape he's stuck to it so as not to mix it up. He takes the lid off this one as well and hands it to The Man.]
Oh...yeah. The owl's mine. She's a curse, actually. [He carefully takes TM's hand as he talks and starts cleaning it.] Sort of...my soul, on the outside of my body....and she looks like an owl for some reason.
[Fiona's keeping mum. Tangible souls are weird enough without also talking.]
[Which he, as he said he would, takes a swig of--and immediately makes a face. Medicine, huh? That's like a rule about medicine: it's got to taste awful. He'll drink it, though >:| And watch what's going on with his hand and all...]
A curse. ... Figured she probably was.
[Well, they say that some of the tribes out in the desert and up on the plains believe in things like animal guides and animal spirits. So an owl as a soul. Maybe it's not so farfet--no, actually, it's pretty strange. But it is the City. Anyway, it's a curse. It's just curses all around.]
Could be worse.
[He'll just sit here, being Exhibit A on that one.]
I...can't. [Left hand finished, in a moment, just fastening the bandage.] If she gets too far away it...hurts. A lot. For both of us. I'll do your other hand, now, if you want. Unless there's something else you want looked at first.
Hey. I'm a nurse. Do you need... [Not help. 'Help' is the wrong word to use here.] ...bandages? Water? ...something?
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Anyway, bandages and water sound really good right about now. And the person offering them seems mostly harmless. So:]
Yeah. ... Not a bad idea.
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The City side.
[He was sort of on the edge of town when midnight struck and this is about as far as he got himself thereafter.
If he had his way, he'd listen for you, Rory, and call through a knothole in the wall when he heard you or something equally peculiar.]
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[It takes Rory a slightly shorter time than it might have done otherwise, when he has an owl-daemon able to swoop about, somewhat, and scope out what "up by the barn" entails, exactly. He has a bag with a couple of water bottles, bandages, and sort of....hopelessly some cloths and disinfectant, buuuuut this is a cowboy. Almost THE Cowboy. So, feeling a bit silly, he's also brought a bottle of whiskey. Do a bait and switch, maybe? Or...as a trade in order to be allowed to use slightly more advanced methods, or...something.
Fiona flies down to land on his shoulder again as he approaches the shed.]
Hello? [No...name.] It's Rory...? If you're there?
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Yeah. I'm still here...
[Mostly. In pieces.]
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[Rory pushes the door slightly further open to get in. As he comes over and starts to crouch by the cowboy, his owl flaps over to stand on a shelf. Out of the way. He does a bit of eyeballing of The Man and decides that he can do with treating the dehydration first. Probably. Hopefully. Taking out a bottle, Rory opens up the top and holds it out towards him.]
Water first, I think.
[He intends to keep a hand steadying it.]
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As does the bottle of water. Popular legend holds that drinking too much water after getting too dried out will make you sick. That's desert folklore. So he hesitates. ... But, damn, he is thirsty. And, with a look up at Rory, he'll take it.
He'd grab it with his left hand (habit), but that's the one that's especially sprained, bruised, and burned at the moment. Right-handed, then (still cut up, but not nearly so bad).
...best water ever.]
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Look, if you'll trust me, please...you can't drink too much of that one. It's just the next one will taste a bit weird...and it's going to properly [...rehydrate...] fix you. Medicine, basically.
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That so?
[Medicine. All right. Anyway, he can put up with a little stinging and some weird taste if it means getting patched up. He's maybe a little hesitant, but he's not outright fighting it. (Means he trusts you.) He's just, you know, hesitant. But he'll offer his left hand, there, since that seems to be what's going on here...]
The owl yours?
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Yep. Just....here.
[He takes the bottle of regular water, puts it down to the side, and takes out the bottle of rehydration solution he put together. Sugar and salt in the right quantities, basically, in water. It has ORS written on some masking tape he's stuck to it so as not to mix it up. He takes the lid off this one as well and hands it to The Man.]
Oh...yeah. The owl's mine. She's a curse, actually. [He carefully takes TM's hand as he talks and starts cleaning it.] Sort of...my soul, on the outside of my body....and she looks like an owl for some reason.
[Fiona's keeping mum. Tangible souls are weird enough without also talking.]
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A curse. ... Figured she probably was.
[Well, they say that some of the tribes out in the desert and up on the plains believe in things like animal guides and animal spirits. So an owl as a soul. Maybe it's not so farfet--no, actually, it's pretty strange. But it is the City. Anyway, it's a curse. It's just curses all around.]
Could be worse.
[He'll just sit here, being Exhibit A on that one.]
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Yeah...I have noticed... The soul thing's a good curse, really.
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As long as you don't lose it.
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[He's flexing his fingers experimentally--not bad. Still hurts, but at least it's bandaged.]
You've done this before.
[He looks at his right hand...]
It's not that bad.
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