[ John leaps for her, and of course he's too late. She's already slicing herself open, in public, which honestly isn't off-piste for her. He would always be freaking out in case someone saw, in case it drew attention to them. Now he's worried about it drawing attention to her. What are these people going to do if they see some girl slicing open skin to a metal endoskeleton?
But at once, he sees the problem is bigger. There's so much blood. And she's--
Oh god. ]
Are you crazy?
[ He drops to his knees, acting on impulse. He pulls his jacket off, and then the shirt beneath it, and he tears a strip off the arm. He pushes her hand away from the wound and takes over, putting pressure on above where she'd sliced. His voice stays low. ]
Do you know what they'd do if they knew what you were? God.
[ John shifts closer, using a strip of cloth to clean away the blood. There's just more blood. She'd cut through to find metal, and there isn't any.
Which means...
It means more than he can process right now. The how matters less than the what. This is impossible. Yes, but so is time travel. So is being older than your own father. John's life is full of impossibilities and it just doesn't fucking matter. He tears another strip off the shirt, making a makeshift tourniquet. The other, he wraps around the wound itself. That bottle was in the trash. ]
We need to find a doctor. [ He looks up, seeking her eyes again. ] Are you okay?
no subject
[ John leaps for her, and of course he's too late. She's already slicing herself open, in public, which honestly isn't off-piste for her. He would always be freaking out in case someone saw, in case it drew attention to them. Now he's worried about it drawing attention to her. What are these people going to do if they see some girl slicing open skin to a metal endoskeleton?
But at once, he sees the problem is bigger. There's so much blood. And she's--
Oh god. ]
Are you crazy?
[ He drops to his knees, acting on impulse. He pulls his jacket off, and then the shirt beneath it, and he tears a strip off the arm. He pushes her hand away from the wound and takes over, putting pressure on above where she'd sliced. His voice stays low. ]
Do you know what they'd do if they knew what you were? God.
[ John shifts closer, using a strip of cloth to clean away the blood. There's just more blood. She'd cut through to find metal, and there isn't any.
Which means...
It means more than he can process right now. The how matters less than the what. This is impossible. Yes, but so is time travel. So is being older than your own father. John's life is full of impossibilities and it just doesn't fucking matter. He tears another strip off the shirt, making a makeshift tourniquet. The other, he wraps around the wound itself. That bottle was in the trash. ]
We need to find a doctor. [ He looks up, seeking her eyes again. ] Are you okay?