Day 026: 'Least You Got Water
Summary: A Delinquent returns injured from the water-run during the Grounder-imposed blockade. He then gets stabbed in his tent, both literally and with cuteness. An apprentice Med-tech soon arrives to stitch him up.
Date: 24th June 2016
Related: Follows directly after Operation Camelback
Asher Cassandra Silver 


Asher's Tent — the Delinquent Camp
It's big. There's a bed made of ripped-out Dropship-seat cushions and an Apocalypse-ready arsenal of weapons.
26 Days After Landing (on the cusp of 27)

The glorious and triumphant return of those who went to secure water is anything but really. They came back to a silent camp, and there was only the sound of Stone and Morgan barking orders for injured to get to the dropship. Asher, being Asher, said, "Fuck no," and went to his tent without even returning his rifle. Most of his water was delivered to the cook tent, but he kept several extra containers for himself. The only person who tried to stop him there was given a rather murderous glare and backed off. So, Asher staggers into his tent and collapses promptly to the ground once the flap is closed.

There is little wonder why upon even cursory inspection: Asher is covered in blood again. He's wearing light grounder armor, which isn't what he left in. He's got a broken off arrow in his upper right chest, and his neck wound has some new flair: there is cross cut, going against the original spear wound to his neck. The bandage on his neck is pretty minimal, just the original one, re-wrapped after it'd been cut off by the new injury. Seriously though, Asher needs a neck guard.

Cassandra is hovering outside the tent when Asher returns, having emerged at the sound of the gate being opened as a dozen or so delinquents return, minus the injured. There's no hiding how she feels about this any more, the attitude that was masking it before they left having evaporated: she's worried. It's writ plain across her face, and when he steps through the tent flap, she's practically wringing her hands with concern as she follows him in.

"What happened?" she asks, but she has her priorities straight. When she sees all that extra water he's carrying, she's moving to help him with that first, lest he spill a single drop of it, before she makes any closer inspection of his wounds. She's dressed in Grounder gear as well, but less than before. Her leggings and boots are from the Ark, and her shirt is made from lighter animal hides than the one she gave Asher.

The blood loss from the neck wound has been somewhat staunched by the bandage, but it needs to be stitched. The arrow wound isn't as bad as some he's taken, just one more crippling blow to his once stunning physique (Ok, so scars don't actually impact his physique, but they do make him slightly less stunning). He's probably more tired than anything. "We went to get water when the Grounders are watching us…" Asher rasps out, "And Stone can't plan for shit."

He tries to push himself up, but his arms start to shake almost immediately, so he settles for rolling over onto his back. Smart, since faceplanting in the dirt probably shoved that arrow in a little deeper. It is bleeding freshly now. "I got water," he says, rather obviously.

<FS3> Cassandra rolls First Aid: Good Success.

"Green Eden," Cassandra swears, and that's about the only time she's ever sounded remotely spiritual down here on Earth. She must be feeling really put out to be missing out on that threesome.

The fact he's brought water is noted as she pulls the containers aside, out of reach of his rolling, bleeding form. It's not that she's trying to keep them from him, but she doesn't want them contaminated or toppling over. Once that's done, she crouches by his side and uses both hands to push him back down and inspect the injuries, lest he injure himself further. "I'm going to kill Stone. Why didn't you crawl away like I told you? I'd have come found you. Fuck, your neck."

Grumbling, Asher doesn't put up a fight at being pushed down. He has very little fight in him right now. Some sleep and some water, he'll be alright. "They ambushed us," he says quietly. "I killed one or two of em…" His voice is hoarse, quiet. "One had a spear… she was scary good. They were all being idiots, poppin' guns off non stop. Wastin' bullets." He coughs and then falls silent for a few moments to let her inspect.

The neck is not good. It's another deep laceration. He'll have something like an X scar now. Still, it missed the main artery… barely. It's deep though. Talking is probably a bad idea. "We got to the water, they ambushed us from the trees, killed two of us… We ran for it. I got shot when we were runnin'." A beat pause. "Four died total."

There is a flinch in Cassie's dark-complected features when Asher mentions having killed people. It's subtle, but it's there, marking a twitch in her eyes and nose. She's no longer squeamish about blood, but the reality of murder is still something she's adjusting to. For now, she moves her hands to press down on the fresh blood trickling from his arrow-wound, shifting her calves to kneel rather than crouch. "Who died?" she asks, pursing her lips. There's no name she really wants to hear… not even Cameron's… but knowing is better than not knowing. It should say something, all the same, that she isn't heading out right now to check on anyone else. Asher didn't die, and for now that's good enough.

"Sara… Gertrude… Jason… Ummm… Billy Bob or some shit. Never knew his name." Seriously? Bill Bob? It probably wasn't that. Gertrude was a bitch, and ugly. No one liked her anyway. Sara was cute, innocent, didn't deserve to die. Jason, was a decent guy. Who knows who Billy Bob was. The names are listed off methodically. Asher isn't thinking about the people who died. The blood spattered across his clothes and face is a testament to his having killed with his axe. It always splatters blood around. Plus there is dried blood all over the axe on his hip. That might be another sign.

<FS3> Cassandra rolls Resolve: Great Success.

Cassandra is pretty sure that Gertrude called her a hooker that one time. She has a long of unforgiving memory. Jason was 'nice', and that's exactly what she deplores the most: hence being with Asher. Her expression remains stoic as he lists off the names, mourning them all silently all the same. As he speaks, she carefully pulls back his shirt and armour to better inspect his injuries, still keeping the seeping blood pressed down with one hand. It gets all over her fingers, but for now she doesn't complain.

"You were lucky," she reminds him. "You didn't die." Her eyes scan the bloodied axe and the spattered fabric she's pulling away, but don't linger. It's clear that the other deaths, the one he hasn't named and can't, bother her too; even if she's forcefully numb in the face of it. "'Least you got water. Stay still, okay?"

Asher falls silent… or he passes out temporarily. Either one of those are distinctly possible. He stays still, half-opened eyes flickering over Cassandra's face for a moment. A smirk tries to emerge, but it mostly fails. "You look worried," he states quietly. It's a dumb thing for a guy who looks half-dead to be amused about, but he's amused all the same. Good call, pointing out one of the few things she hates talking about while she's taking care of him. "I can't be killed… you know that." Uh huh. Blood loss is fun.

"…Shut up," says Cassandra. They are definitely not having this conversation again, if it's up to her. She won't be admitting to any feels. And to show just how serious she is, once she's removed the shirt and armour to better expose his wound, she pulls out a knife on him — his own, drawn from his right hip to expose that sharp, Grounder-forged edge that she's stolen from him before. For a moment it might look like a threat, until she turns it down towards the arrow wound. Her left hand bundles his shirt to keep the pressure on it before wrapping around the wooden shaft, and then carefully, slowly at first, she presses the point of his knife down beside the arrowhead. If he's going to fight her, she's going to be ready, and draw back her hand quickly enough to prevent him from cutting himself up further. This would probably go better with Grey, Silas, Cameron and Morgan here to hold him down, but for now she can only rely on his will to live. "Don't. Move," she warns him again.

<FS3> Asher rolls Resolve-1: Failure.

Asher does not shut up, because blood loss and exhaustion makes you say dumb things. "Just say the words and I'll let it go," he says in a quiet voice. Of course, then she's pulled his knife and he eyes her just a moment. It's sort of a delayed reaction and a reflex jerk. The knife tip goes against his skin and Asher jerks back. "Fuck!" he tries to growl out. His voice is hoarse, and he only croaks it out instead. "Why are you stabbing me?!?!?" Once again, it is croaked out. He tries to scramble away, but he can barely move. Chalk it up to blood loss and delirium. He has no idea what's going on. Trekking three hours with that wound in his neck was a bad idea.

"Shit, Asher, I said don't move!" Cassandra admonishes him, pulling the knife back away the second he does. She gives him an exasperated look, but since she isn't strong enough to physically hold him down, she focuses on keeping the shirt wrapped around the arrow wound and will follow him if he scrambles, rather than trying to stop him. She does shift the majority of her weight down into her arms and shoulders, which are pressing down on him, but there isn't much weight to throw around in the first place.

"I need to get the arrow out," she says, holding up the knife for him to get a good look at. The tip is now bloody, and this is a poor substitute for actual medical attention to begin with. The last time his fellow Delinquents were dealing with an injured Asher, that knife was boiled and sterilised, and he had Morgan to oversee. But since Morgan is injured too, along with too many others, and he is bleeding right now, there isn't enough time to follow all of these correct steps. "You pushed it in too far. If I just pull it, it'll do worse coming out than it did going in. Just trust me, okay?"

<FS3> Asher rolls Resolve-1: Good Success.

Things seem to become a bit clearer for Asher somewhere in this chaotic moment. His gaze shifts from Cassandra, to the knife and back to Cassandra. It's somewhere around the moment of her asking him to trust her that he stops moving away from her and takes in a deep breath. Or as deep as he can anyway. "Ok…" he replies in a still quiet, low tone. His eyes close and he lays his head back. "Stab away…"

In fairness, around anyone else, 'trust me' is just about the worst thing Cassandra could possibly say to anyone. People on the whole don't trust her, she doesn't trust them, and she isn't even going to refute that they're wrong not to. For now, though, she's trying her hardest not to carve Asher up for dinner. That would be wasteful. Her dark eyes settle back on the injury and the blood seeping out of it before she lowers the tip of the knife back down, carefully sliding it into the wound. No effort is made to cut at first, but she does gently prise away the flesh that the arrowhead's barbs are latched into — because Grounders are bastards — at all times tightly pressing down on the skin around it. Finally, the other side of the arrowhead is stabbed at before she's able to slide the beaten metal free. It was either that or she'd have to push the arrow clean through his chest, and with Asher being a big guy, and her lacking in medical expertise, that could lead to deeply unpleasant results. When she's left holding the half-broken arrow in front of him, she lets his knife clatter to one side, leaving him bleeding just as much as he was before, but without a projectile sticking out of him; and with someone to help keep pressure on the wound.

In retrospect, Asher should have gone to the dropship when Morgan told him to. Why does he have to be so contrary? Asher gasps in pain as she starts to work at the arrowhead and it takes about all the will and energy he has left not to punch her in the face. His initial response is always to fight. Somewhere between the cutting and stabbing and pulling out of an arrowhead, Asher passes out. Either too much pain, or the blood loss has gotten to him. He'll come to easily enough with persuasion, but for now, he's unconscious.

<FS3> Cassandra rolls Survival: Failure.

Although she is, in fact, worried, and shows it a lot more intensely when he closes his eyes, a part of Cassandra is probably okay with Asher passing out. It means he isn't fighting her, or punching her in the face, and it means that she can prise the arrow free without accidentally carving him up. Waking him up right now would probably not do much good, and so she first takes the time to clean the wound and bandage him up. It takes her some rummaging, both within her bag and around his tent — a hard feat to accomplish, since she's forced to stretch, and refuses to lift her hand from the wound — but eventually she finds half a skin of alcohol, and is able to grind a thin paste of yarrow and goldenrod to apply to his wound. This isn't a terrible idea, but the Grounders could do better. Finding Morgan or one of the other medtechs in the Dropship at some point would be a good idea.

When she's finished, she opts to let him rest. If he happens to die, well, that's not her fault. She did what she could. She doesn't move from his side, though, and waits for him to wake up.

If only he could actually see this happen, Asher would probably vomit from cuteness. Make no mistake, as Cassie goes, this is cute. And bloody. Bloody cute. Totally a thing. It's probably thirty more minutes before he wakes up, and it's a slow, groggy awakening. Energy is something he doesn't have in reserves right now, but pain is something he has to spare and he can't sleep through it. Wincing, Asher tries to sit up and blinks at Cassandra, watching her. "You stabbed me," he says.

Cass is still bloody when Asher wakes up. It's all over her hands, much like her worry, which is still all over her face. She's too stressed right now, and relieved by the fact that he's awake enough to talk, to cover this up. "You had it coming," she demurs, knees hugged to her chest as she slides her eyes towards his face. "I missed out on an orgy with Quinn for this."

"Preachin' to the choir…" Asher replies with a weak smirk. He has no idea what that saying means, but he remembers people saying it in situation like these. They don't have choirs on the Ark. Or Preachers. His gaze slides to her face as well, locking in with hers. A frown is offered. "I'm sorry," he offers, and then adds on, "I'll make it up to you." Once he can move. "And I'm sorry I worried you."

Tensing, Cassandra looks back away and wipes the worry from her face, to replace it with irritation. "…Shut up," she recommends again, then stands to go fetch some water for the both of them. "I liked you better when you were just an ass."

That weak smirk is back. Asher may be a killer through and through, but he's not entirely heartless. One day he'll really annoy Cassandra. He watches her as she goes to get the water. "I'm too tired to be an ass right now…" He admits, and then coughs, "Also… I probably need a doc…" Not that she didn't do a perfectly mediocre job.

"Yeah. You also need to lie down," commands Cassandra, returning with a refilled skin of water for Asher, and one for her. "Did Ruth survive? Morgan? Layla? Silver?" She does allow some of her concern to slip back into her gaze when she crouches back down beside him. "You know there's no way you're going to fight now when the Grounders come. We need to get you medical attention and then high-tail it out of here."

The command comes and Asher sighs, laying back down. He isn't arguing right now. "Yeah, they are all fine. Silver didn't go." He frowns at her, then lays his head back. "Bullshit I can't fight. Just get Morgan to sew this shit up," he states more firmly now, some of the natural power to his voice coming back in that moment. He's a stubborn ass. "I've fought worse than this." No, he hasn't.

Cassandra doesn't doubt it. Asher is a murderer, by five counts now. She heard all about the brains that got splattered on the walls of Mecha station. But even believing that he's speaking out of more than bravado, she shakes her head. "I got one thing I promised I'd do for Stone. I'm helping him take out Sonia." A pause, and she glances towards his rifle. "How is Stone?"

Asher tries to shrug. He winces; that was painful. He grumbles and eyes Cassandra. "Since when are you makin' deals with dudes like Stone?" Apparently the rumor mill hadn't had time to get to Asher, as he doesn't elaborate on that. He eyes her for a moment or three and sighs, "He's better than me, worse than others I guess. Used up more bullets than I did though." As if that were some measure or standard that mattered.

"Since I make deals with everybody, 'cause I'm not an idiot, and not a proud idiot," Cass replies, rising to her feet. Her hands brush down her leggings before she starts towards the entrance of the tent, looking at Asher over her shoulder. "Look, depending on Stone's condition, you can help me spot Sonia up top to take her out. But then we're —" And it suddenly hits her that she is A) giving Asher orders and B) saying 'we', as in, making plans for the both of them; neither of which she has a right to do. She could just ask politely, but instead she sets her jaw, looks him in the eye, and takes a stand. "I'm getting the hell out of here. Our best fighters are down." She's including Asher, Stone, and everyone who went to get water within that group. "You can either join me, or stay here and die."

With that, she's stepping out of the tent, to go find Silver.

Asher actually doesn't respond to any of this. Normally, he'd be up for a fight on this matter. He likes arguing, it's like fighting without actually fighting. Still, he's tired and he's losing blood fast. So he doesn't yell, or argue or anything else. He just lets her go. And since he has no idea that she's going to find Silver, he assumes she's just leaving in general.

Silver may not feel like she's particularly useful, but she's been lending a hand in several departments. Some time spent rotating with Cole with the hydrazine, other time sharing some of what she's learned about the bracelets while trying to convert them to comms, and other time spent stitching people up after the water mission. She's in between tasks when Cassandra finds her, coming out of the dropship and rubbing at her eyes with the back of her forearm.

<FS3> Cassandra rolls Medicine: Success.

Cassandra has blood on her hands and worry on her face when she exits Asher's tent, but with all that's happened today, she's not unique in that regard and gets no strange looks from anyone around camp. Silver was just the person she was hoping to find, like a lot of people are, which is why she hurries her steps the second she sees her.

"Silver," she greets the overworked medtech, and is herself visibly stressed. "Asher's in a bad shape. I really need your help. He's lost a lot of blood, and he needs stitches, and a fresh bandage. I stopped the bleeding but I can't do the rest. Please?" One of Cassandra's hands rises to try and lightly grab hold of Silver's arm, directing her towards where she's just come from.

Silver blinks, seeing the blood and starting toward Cassandra on reflex before she even recognizes the other girl. She's halfway through the explanation before recognition sets in. "Hey. Cass? What —" Right, Asher. Silver smiles faintly, letting out a slow breath. "Yeah, of course," she says evenly. "Let's go. What happened?" she asks, right to business.

The blood on Cassie's hands is indeed not her own. Her forehead still has a large bruise from her first experience riding a horse (and getting shot in the head), but she's obtained no new injuries since then. All things considered, she's doing rather well. "He got, I think… stabbed in the neck. Again," she surmises. "And shot in the chest." Looking Silver over, she double-checks before leading the way over to Asher's tent. "You got your things? Needle and thread? I know Morgan got given surgical needles by that guy Que. We need it."

"What were you guys doing out there?" Silver asks, then cuts herself off, shaking her head. "Never mind, doesn't matter. Those things are too valuable for me to be carrying them around, it's all in the infirmary. Or whatever they're calling it. You go get a needle and some thread, tell them I'm here and I'll be the one using them," she says as she follows. "It's going to take me a minute to take stock of the injuries anyhow."

"I didn't do shit. He went to go get water," says Cass, and by the grimace on her expression, she disapproves of this bravery. She nods her head in the direction of the tent flap for Silver to go in, then turns away towards the infirmary again, to go get the needed supplies.

Asher is laying on the floor, with his head propped up against his makeshift bed. The bed is made of cushions stolen from the dropship seats, or many of them anyway. Quite the lap of luxuruy, but early on Asher was an asshole and took everything he could get his hands on. Of course, he's no less an asshole, but he's a little less grabby. He has no shirt on, and has some sort of paste over a puckering, bleeding arrow wound on his upper right chest. A bandage is wrapped around a seeping wound across the left side of his throat. His eyes were closed until Silver came in, and they open with his hand on the rifle next to him. Seeing that it is Silver and not someone coming to kill him and take his dropship cushion bed, he lets go of the gun.

"Hey, Asher. Fancy meeting you like this," Silver chatters absently as she steps inside, kneeling next to him and starting to inspect the wound and the work done thus far. "How's the breathing?" As she asks, she sets a hand feather-light over the wound in his chest, testing for any unnecessary movement of air.

"Seems like it's the only way we ever get to hang out," Asher replies in a weak tone. The blood is mostly all over his now crumpled up shirt. And on the ground. And on him. "Air's comin' in, and goin' out. Guess it's ok. I'm just tired." He watches her, still a little wary.

"Hey, as long as it goes in and out the right holes in the right direction, we're ahead of the game," Silver smiles faintly back at Asher, moving away from the chest wound to get a better look at the slash in his neck. Close as he may watch, she seems infinitely more interested in the wounds than in anything else in the tent. She's indifferent about so many things, keeps herself aloof… but something to fix gets her undivided attention.

But his stuff is so nice! He has swords and knives and axes and a bed! Sure, it's not a fur bed, but whatever. It's better than floor. "Ok…" Asher replies and continues to watch her as she works. He asks more quietly, "Cass seem ok to you? She seemed a bit freaked." Like he's never been shot and stabbed before.

"No, she seemed worried about you," Silver murmurs distractedly as she tries to clean around the wound without breaking any of the scabs open. "And I don't think she worries much about anyone, and she asked me to fix you, so do me a favor and try not to die until you're fixed enough that I'm not responsible for it. Did you keep any of the water in here? Cleaning up dried blood with wet blood doesn't help much."

Asher reaches behind him onto the bed and grabs the water skin Cassandra brought him before. He holds it out for Silver, watching her, and then nods. "I know she is." He pauses. "I'll stay alive to keep her from shanking you, no worries." A grin follows that. He sighs and leans his head back again. "They need to stop slicing up my neck…" It's like Grounders have a hard on for trying to cut his head off.

<FS3> Cassandra rolls Stealth: Success.
(For stealing the needles.)

<FS3> Cassandra rolls Survival: Good Success.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Cassandra=stealth Vs Silver=alertness
< Cassandra: Great Success Silver: Success
< Net Result: Cassandra wins - Crushing Victory

Had Cassandra followed Silver's instruction and just asked for the needles she was supposed to get, she might not have been so lucky. People are unlikely to believe her intentions are good, even were she to explain she was there on behalf of Silver, which is why without speaking to a soul in the makeshift infirmary, she chose to simply lift them. With so many injured sprawled on the floor, she was able to do so without too much trouble… for now. She was seen entering and leaving the Dropship in the suspicious timeframe during which certain items went missing, and someone is sure to follow up.

Her questionable actions aside, she soon returns with what Silver asked for: needle, thread, clean bandages, and one addition of her own in the form of some herbal tea inside a tall, scrap metal flask. She doesn't immediately speak when she steps back in, but instead tries to catch Asher's eye over the good doctor's shoulder and quietly slips along the hanging walls of the tent towards his water supply. Silver may have already noticed that he's taken more than his share, but in the event she hasn't yet, Cass likes to be cautious. A spare blanket from the raided supply-depot is cast atop the containers before she makes her presence known.

"Everything okay?" she asks, peering over.

"Or, alternatively, you could learn to duck," Silver suggests to Asher as she takes the water skin, the faintest smile quirking at one corner of her lips. "Thanks, Cass. Good news is, his lungs are solid. Air's going in and out of his chest through the proper channels and not through the hole he got in it. Otherwise, yeah. The next hour's not gonna be a lot of fun for you, Asher. I need to sew this up, then we bandage it so you don't manage to damage any major arteries just because someone gave you a hug."

"I'm ready to fight… bring on the tree fuckers." Asher says with a glance at Cassandra, and then one at Silver. "Doc says I'm totally cool, no big deal." Which isn't true, but Asher likes to pretend he is more than human. He looks at Silver then, brow raised. He nods to her. "Let's get to sewing… Cass, bring some of that 'shine." Because he needs to take the edge off. "You really think someone is gonna try to hug me, Silver? I'm not exactly cuddly."

"Silver, please tell Asher he's not good to fight," Cassandra beseeches, but her tone is light and resigned. That, and she's now making every effort to pretend not to care. Expression aloof, she heads back over towards the medtech and her patient, kneeling in front of the two to set down the equipment Silver needs. The flask she places by Asher's head, tapping the rim. "You're gonna need that 'shine to clean up your wounds. Drink this instead; it'll help." It's no aspirin, but there's a good helping of willow mixed into it, which is the best painkiller they have.

"Asher, you're not even good to lift heavy objects," Silver notes clinically at Cassandra's request, checking the supplies and rinsing them off before she settles down cross-legged to start with the stitching. "I'm not kidding about that. You're lucky this didn't open up your carotid, but it took a piece out of your neck around it. You're short some serious protection around a major source of blood. You so much as get your blood pressure up and it could burst."

Well that sounds ominous. Asher watches Cassandra, and then flicks his gaze Silver. These aren't really words he has any intention of hearing. "Yeah, well… Grounders show up, I'm fightin' all the same." Because it's that or die. Or run. He could run. He takes the flask of tea and sips from it, cringing. Bitter. "Pretty sure the 'shine would do me better." Because thinned out blood from drinking jet fuel is exactly what you need before getting stitches. Once Silver starts stitching, Asher grimaces, but otherwise doesn't move.

"You really want to lay down your life for douchebags like Cameron? He and Morgan probably have a villa set by the sea by now," Cass remarks, tone flippant and disdainful. "'Sides, if you die, I'm gonna have to enlist Silver as my muscle to help run this camp. And bigger is better, no offence, Silver." She glances towards the medtech with silent gratitude for being backed up, but leaves it to her to decipher if she's serious or not about conquering the chaos-torn camp. "I'll go get some more 'shine after you're all stitched up and good to go."

"I think if you're down to me for muscle, the only folks left in the camp to conquer are you and me," Silver points out with another flicker of a smile, though she doesn't look away from the job at hand. Her hands are sure and steady, the stitching done with efficient neatness. "You might have a better chance of surviving by hiding under the rest of the bodies, though, Asher." Another stitch, quiet. "How'd Morgan and Cameron end up on your bad side?"

A wince at the stitch. Or maybe Cassandra's tone. It's hard to tell. "Ain't about them," he states flatly, as if it were perfectly obvious why he'd stay and fight when in reality there's no real reason for him to protect this place. Asher sighs and falls silent to let Silver do her work. He isn't going to argue, he'll just do what he does. Another sip of the bitter willow tea is taken. A long sip. Very long. This shit better kick in quick.

While Silver works on the stitches, Cassandra eyes her from the side, with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. "Some people just rub me the wrong way," she says, because even if she has a better reason than that, Asher's right that it isn't about them — and it isn't about her, either. "You got a, uh… contingency plan, I guess." This comment is directed at Silver, and spoken less confidently than she'd normally confront someone with. The fact that the medtech has a needle to Asher's neck may have something to do with that.

"Yeah. Hide under the bodies." Silver… doesn't entirely sound like she's joking about that. At least she's got realistic expectations about her chances in a fight. "If you mean Wren, though, not really." She grimaces, still working. "I can't pass for a grounder, and I won't get him killed for sheltering me if it really comes down to the grounders wanting all of us dead. He might not agree with me on that front, but I get the feeling no one's going to have a lot of control if it comes to that."

"What other option do I have, Cass? You want me to run before it goes down?" Asher eyes her while Silver does her work. Compared to the pain he's already in, getting stitched up is only mildly excruciating. "They'd shoot me down before I got twenty feet and you know it." Plus Asher would get lost. In like ten feet.

As much as Cass is freely criticising Asher's bravery, it's now Silver she turns a vaguely confused, leery look towards. "I dunno," she says, to both of them. "I kinda want to not die. So I plan on helping Stone give us the best chance we've got." Her tone implies there should be a 'but' somewhere in there, or an 'after which', but in Silver's presence, she opts not to make that explicit. She shakes her head, shrugging her shoulders, and visibly resigns. "Do what you want, Asher. I'm not your keeper, and you're not mine."

"I'm not a fighter," Silver shakes her head to Cassandra as she works. "It's not just a choice, I just don't have the temperament or the build for it," she admits. "I'd be more likely to get into everyone's way than to actually hurt someone. If it comes to a fight, I'll get supplies, I'll keep an eye out, I'll patch up the people who go down. But I've got some doubts about our chances. Not that it matters, they're the only chances we've got anyhow."

Do what he wants? Asher eyes Cassandra for a few moments, but decides that in this moment, he's going to err on the side of shutting up. Talking hurts when there's a needle in your neck. He sips more of the tea, wincing at both the pain and the bitter after taste. This stuff sucks. What he wouldn't give for a real pain killer.

There's definitely tension there. When Asher eyes her, Cassandra eyes him back, but like him, doesn't add more verbal meaning to her statement than was already there. "Not judging you for that, Silver. We need our doctors," she says to her.

It's a longer job than Asher would like, no doubt. Silver's practiced enough and confident enough that it goes smoothly and relatively quickly, but it's still a lot of stitches. In the neck. Once she's done, though, she leans back again, cracking her neck with a pop. "All right. That should hold it. If we're all alive in a couple weeks, I'll take them out."

A couple weeks? At the rate he's going, Asher won't last a couple days. It's been less than a month. He's been shot five times, stabbed three times and had his neck sliced open twice. And that was without there being an all out war on. Asher continues to watch Cass until Silver is done. He prods tentatively at the neck wound and nods. "Couple weeks. Should be a breeze."

Although normally she'd have looked away by now, this time Cassandra holds Asher's gaze for as long as it takes Silver to finish stitching up his neck, taking it as some sort of challenge. When she's done, she turns and tries to pull the medtech in for a hug. They might all be dead tomorrow. "Thanks, Silver," she tells her.

"Hey, any time." Silver might be surprised by the hug, but she doesn't pull away, returning it gingerly. "I mean that. You need help, come find me, and if I can, I will. And you…" She nudges a hand at Asher's shoulder. "Just try to keep yourself in one piece. You're making life difficult for Cass."

A brow is arched at Silver by Asher. "How do you figure?" He takes up his blood-soaked and tattered shirt. He sighs and tosses it into a corner. So much for having his own shirt. It was already cut up and in bad shape. Now it's a useless rag. Topless Asher it is!

Cassandra releases Silver with a disapproving look when she's spoken for, but in answer, just looks down at Asher and frowns. She's very good at talking with her eyebrows. That said, she brings her knees up to her chest again and sits on guard.

"You made her go out and ask for help," Silver points out, gathering up the medical supplies with a wry smile. "Damned inconsiderate of you." She winks, standing up slowly. "I'll just go drop these back off," she says of the supplies. "Then figure out what I'm up to next. Keep that clean, Asher."

Asher pulls himself up and crawls onto his bed, collapsing there. So comfortable. Better than lame furs. Nylon is better. "I'm an asshole, what can I say?" He glances over at Cassandra, then back at Silver. "Thanks for the help, Doc." Asher states, "I'll try to keep it clean."

Silver's explanation at least is fair, and Cassandra takes it on the chin without further complaint, verbal or non-verbal. She does look up at the medtech, tearing her gaze from Asher's collapsed form, and says, "I owe you one." She sounds like she means it, giving her a sharp nod.

"Maybe I'll even live to collect," Silver laughs softly on her way out. "Take care, Cass. I'll see you around."

Asher watches Silver leave, his gaze settled on her until the flap closes. Then his attention shifts back to Cassandra, and he watches her instead. "Hi," he offers finally, after several long moments of silence. Hi. That's a good way to be less of an asshole, right?

Cassandra, who earlier told Asher that she prefers him when he's an ass, isn't terribly interested in hi. But she is tired: it's been a long day, and she's spent it tensely negotiating, fighting with Asher, fighting with Ruth, worrying about Asher, and trying to make sure he didn't die. So instead she just closes her eyes, pulls off her shirt and crawls on over to curl up by his side. She keeps her back to him while she peels away the rest of her outerwear, but there's body-heat, all the same.

Asher can't blame her, he wasn't very interested in it either when he said it. But he has to keep his blood pressure down, so he needs to be bland apparently. He falls silent when she pulls off her shirt and crawls into the bed with him. He drapes an arm over Cassandra's side and kisses the nape of her neck lightly. That's about all the energy he has though. "Thank you for keeping me alive." Because gratitude is important, even if you are an ass.

Lightly, Cassandra nods her head. "Needed you in one piece," she lamely explains, keeping her back to him. It's hard to imagine really for what purpose, at this point. He's not much use as a shield in his current condition, and that staying alive thing remains an issue with him that seems a bit touch-and-go. But it's all she has to offer, apart from body-heat, after scraping off her shoes and kicking them to the side.

There a smirk she can't see. "Ok," he replies in a sleepy tone, his voice fading out as the 'k' is drawn out. Even in this shape, he'd probably still get in the line of fire for Cassandra. He won't say it, or why, but he'd do it. Whether or not she knows that is another matter. Of course, right now, that's probably one arrow and he's a dead man. The arm draped around her draws her in close once the shoes are off and a few moments later, Asher is passed out.

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