"Pssh," I waved my hand, dismissing him. "I'm fine. With you all the way, baby."
Ooh, except everything got kind of dark around the edges when I sat up. That wasn't fun. Tipping my head forward, crying out a little as things got moved that shouldn't have - stab wound to the stomach was inconvenient - I breathed deeply and tried not to throw up. After a minute, I shoved myself roughly to my feet, swaying a little.
Okay! I was golden, now. Pushing off Peter's help, I stumbled into the bedroom on my own power, focusing on one step in front of the other. Finally, after what seemed like years, I was lying down, the blankets feeling clean and cool against all the sweat and blood and dirt I was coated in.
"No, seriously," I muttered. "I left my splat gun. And my bag. And Dean's machete... Oh, crap, he's going to be pissed at me."
It felt so good to be lying down, to stop fighting, but nonetheless I pushed myself back up. "I should go back now, while he's down. I think I got him before I left, I could go back." Room spinning, again, my skin flashed to an even paler tone, my freckles standing out in stark relief against my skin. I'd taken the pinkie ring off earlier, not wanting to risk losing it. I couldn't remember if Peter had ever seen me without it.
...Right, other, more important things to think about. Like going back and kicking Sylar's ass a second time so I could get my stuff.
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Ooh, except everything got kind of dark around the edges when I sat up. That wasn't fun. Tipping my head forward, crying out a little as things got moved that shouldn't have - stab wound to the stomach was inconvenient - I breathed deeply and tried not to throw up. After a minute, I shoved myself roughly to my feet, swaying a little.
Okay! I was golden, now. Pushing off Peter's help, I stumbled into the bedroom on my own power, focusing on one step in front of the other. Finally, after what seemed like years, I was lying down, the blankets feeling clean and cool against all the sweat and blood and dirt I was coated in.
"No, seriously," I muttered. "I left my splat gun. And my bag. And Dean's machete... Oh, crap, he's going to be pissed at me."
It felt so good to be lying down, to stop fighting, but nonetheless I pushed myself back up. "I should go back now, while he's down. I think I got him before I left, I could go back." Room spinning, again, my skin flashed to an even paler tone, my freckles standing out in stark relief against my skin. I'd taken the pinkie ring off earlier, not wanting to risk losing it. I couldn't remember if Peter had ever seen me without it.
...Right, other, more important things to think about. Like going back and kicking Sylar's ass a second time so I could get my stuff.