operation robodachi

[sloshing]

Who| HK-47, Eridan, Dave, Clara, and OPEN
What| Catch-all: HK gets shot in the shoulder, has to treat his wound, and then ends up dying anyway a few days later.
Where| Multiple locations: Lockers, A Touch Of Class, Centurion Cineplex
When| Week 2
Warnings/Notes| Injury (gunshot) and death (tbd). The open prompt is for anyone who'd like to show someone from a futuristic universe how to work an archaic first aid kit. Operation Robodachi.

[If you'd like a specific thread starter somewhere else, let me know via private message or on plurk: assbanditkirk.]

Comments

[sloshing]

There is only one possible reaction to the sanitation of his wound, teeth clenched down on the leather: "FHHHCK!" Afterwards, he was sure to take deep breaths as she finishes cleaning it up and taping on the gauze.

When she returns, he isn't sure what a "twerk team" is but it sounds ridiculous. He takes the bit out of his mouth, wiping the leather taste out of his mouth with the back of his hand.

He could answer seriously, but his nature was not necessarily inclined that way.

"Oh, I absolutely doubt that. Please, assist me so that I might feel the light caress of your hands once again upon my body and I can become filled with awkward sexual interest."

[molotov]

Look, it's been a few weeks, and pickings on shirts have gotten slim. It was either 'twerk team' or a shirt that said 'gay is the new awesome', so Molotov went with the better option, she thought. Don't be picky, buddy.

She glances around when he says that, and while she thinks that's sarcasm, she's actually not one hundred percent sure about a robot's capability to be properly sarcastic. Is that something they're programmed with? The only robot she knows talks mostly in beeps and only a small group of people really know what it's saying, so.

Molotov doesn't have the time or patience to figure this shit out. She's barely slept for the past few days, she's kind of grungy, and she just saved someone instead of killing them. So she just shrugs and starts tearing the remainder of his shirt off, so that he doesn't have to lift his hurt arm.