restroom | ( open general rp post )

I'm not taking you to my home.

( because then he'd know where it was and if they didn't come out of this okay, it'd give spock easy access to come and find him. )

Just a place I've crashed before.

[ He squints. Thinks back. ]

It is highly unusual that you refer to a place to which you have little attachment as "your place."

[ Yeah, that's what he's taking away from this. The blood loss is really getting to him. ]

How about you just focus on not dying?

( he thinks that would be a better use of all his energy. he chances a look back and frowns. )

You look like shit.

[ Spock waits a beat to reply, curious if there will be anything further. When there is not, he answers: ]

So you have said. As you have requested, I am extremely focused on not expiring.

Good.

( he focuses back on driving, eyeing the road behind them before he takes a few turns and pulls up in front of a building. there's a chinese restaurant in front. )

Come on, up. We gotta go.

( he'll get spock inside and then ditch the car. )

[ Spock has no choice but to accept "Roger's" assistance to limp inside. He takes in the gaudy restaurant front with dazed curiosity, but does not have it in him to comment at the moment. He allows himself to be hauled up stairs to the rooms above the restaurant. By the time "Roger" returns from seeing to the car, he has managed to drag himself to a beat up couch and collapse across it. Every burdened breath has him breathing in the smell of grease and cooking meat. A trail of blood marks his path from the curb to his pile of limbs on the couch. ]

All right.

( so, one problem is taken care of. now, he has to figure this out. )

Do you want me to heal you? It'd be less painful than you toughing it out.

[ It takes a second for Spock to respond; he is moments away from slipping into a healing trance, and fighting against the lassitude. To allow himself to be so vulnerable would spell likely not only his death, but "Roger's" as well.

He blinks, and finally manages: ]

Healing would be appreciated. I believe they were forewarned of my presence.

[ He isn't healing as fast as he should. There must have been venom or some other toxin on the claws that made his wounds. ]

Okay.

( jim crouches down closer to him, looking him over and frowning. )

Where first?

At this point, it does not matter.

[ He turns his head to look at "Roger." His eyes are slitted, the sclera bleeding red with his body's distress. ]

Fine. Then, let me do this.

( reaching out, he grabs at spock's shirt and starts tugging it upward so he can see the worst of the wounds. )

Stay still.

( and then he leans in closer and licks at one laceration, using his saliva to start healing the other man. )

[ At first, Spock is barely aware enough to notice what "Roger" is doing. The closer proximity is of course expected. Even lifting his shirt is nothing out of the ordinary, if he assumes "Roger" wishes a closer look at his wounds. But the abrupt way "Roger" bends his head and drags his tongue over one of the incisions is enough to shock Spock out of his injury-induced state of shock.

He makes a soft, startled noise and attempts to jerk upright. He is less than successful, only managing to lift his head and give "Roger" a wide-eyed look. ]

What— are you doing?

[ He is too bewildered to notice the way the wound is slowly beginning to heal. ]

It's how I heal. Don't make a big deal out of it.

( he hadn't told spock how it was gonna happen because he didn't want him to get all weird. )

It works. Just relax.

[ Spock's eyes flicker down. The wound is indeed healing. That does not prevent him from going ahead with getting all weird. Maybe not weird — more like fascinated, his eyes fixed to "Roger's" mouth again, mind, despite the haze of blood loss, ticking away at how this peculiar method might work. ]

You are aware that allowing me to imbibe your blood will serve as well.

[ Almost a question. ]

I know.

( he flicks another look up at spock as he finishes healing one wound. it's something he's known since he started this and he figured if spock had an issue with it, he'd say so. he hasn't yet.

he sits back on his heels and rubs at his arms. )

Anywhere else?

There are multiple other lacerations of significant concern.

[ He doesn't move from his supine position, but he does lift his shirt more, revealing another set of deep claw wounds leaking rivulets down his chest. ]

Are you aware that allowing me to imbibe your blood would be a significantly more efficient method of healing?

[ At this point, "Roger's" behavior has been so unusual that he is not even complaining about the lack of efficiency — he is curious. ]

Yeah, but I didn't think you'd go for that.

( a few hours ago, spock had been pretty dead set on trying to kill him. and while he's staved that off for awhile, he still doesn't exactly trust the man. )

You can me to drain some blood into a glass and you can have a mimosa?

Addition of alcohol would severely dilute the blood.

[ He squints at Roger for a moment. Then: ]

Ah. You are making a joke. [ The word joke said like mess on the carpet. ] If that is preferable to you, I find it acceptable. However, I am not currently at liberty to refuse any means of healing.

[ He's desperate enough that he'll drink straight from the source if he needs to. ]

Look, I'm trying to make it easier for you, buddy. You want me to keep licking you? Or do you want it in a glass?

( what's going to stop you from dying quicker? )

Come on, tell me quick before you wither away right there.

[ He blinks, one eyelid, then the secondary in quick succession. It seems he has irritated "Roger." ]

A glass would be preferable. [ Almost, he refrains. Almost — but the blood loss has eroded his control significantly. He adds: ] As you are yourself a vampire, you should be aware that upon death, we do not wither.

Fine, I'll get you a glass.

( he makes a face and disappears for a few seconds. when he comes back, he has a glass. he bites into his wrist, grimacing and then turning the blood flow into the glass. )

Good stuff right here. Tasty.

[ Spock eyes both the way "Roger" tears his wrist open and the resulting glass of blood, but he says nothing until it's offered to him. ]

I find the taste of blood to be mildly unpleasant.

[ He reaches for the glass, but his hand is shaking too much for him to hold it steady. ]

Yeah, that doesn't surprise me.

( frowning, jim crouches closer and reaches for spock's hand to steady it. he guides the glass to spock's mouth and nods. )

Drink.

[ A faintly arch glance, but Spock props himself up as much as he's able and slowly sips at the glass. And then more rapidly— quicker and quicker until he's gulping down the blood, messy spills dripping from the corner of his mouth, his breath coming sharp and hard. ]

( jim feels weird just standing there and watching so he goes back into the kitchen and grabs a towel since spock is being messy.

he gives the other man a few moments before he comes back in and passes it to him to wipe his face. )

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