[ blitzø is bleeding black from the wound in his shoulder as he books it toward fizz and mammon is shouting shit but he can't hear it thanks to the blood pounding in his ears sounding like rushing water so loud nothing else matters. he doesn't hear what blitzø says either, too overcome with what he's caused.
blitzø got hurt because of him. protecting fizz. because fizz couldn't fucking play along with mammon for ten fucking minutes until he could get oz to where he was.
it's the shriek of tires that finally drag him out of it, that have him grabbing for blitzø's good shoulder as soon as he's close enough, eyes wild and frantic. ]
We have to—
[ wait, that's velvette? she's—
—shit, fuck, he doesn't need to get someone else on mammon's shit list. but since it's money and she's throwing it where mammon can get it, maybe it's fine? it's probably fine. mammon loves money more than anything else.
he realizes, belatedly, that he's dissociating again. he snaps himself out of it and turns to haul ass toward the car as best he can with blitzø both in tow and helping fizz move. the broken leg drags along behind him, still in a slightly extended state because it can't fully retract now that it's busted.
they get to the car, they should be hopping in, he can hear mammon's horrible booming laugh and that's the final straw.
he holds up a hand before he can be dragged into the vehicle, one finger pointed in a 'hang on' gesture.
then he leans over to the side and pukes from a mixture of pain, anxiety, guilt, and terror. he makes sure it's not getting on anything but the ground because he doesn't want to be even more of a bother. ]
Sorry. I'm good now.
[ yeah, as soon as he says it, he starts to list to the side, his grip on blitzø slackening because he's too woozy from the blood loss to reliably control the motors. ]
no subject
blitzø got hurt because of him. protecting fizz. because fizz couldn't fucking play along with mammon for ten fucking minutes until he could get oz to where he was.
it's the shriek of tires that finally drag him out of it, that have him grabbing for blitzø's good shoulder as soon as he's close enough, eyes wild and frantic. ]
We have to—
[ wait, that's velvette? she's—
—shit, fuck, he doesn't need to get someone else on mammon's shit list. but since it's money and she's throwing it where mammon can get it, maybe it's fine? it's probably fine. mammon loves money more than anything else.
he realizes, belatedly, that he's dissociating again. he snaps himself out of it and turns to haul ass toward the car as best he can with blitzø both in tow and helping fizz move. the broken leg drags along behind him, still in a slightly extended state because it can't fully retract now that it's busted.
they get to the car, they should be hopping in, he can hear mammon's horrible booming laugh and that's the final straw.
he holds up a hand before he can be dragged into the vehicle, one finger pointed in a 'hang on' gesture.
then he leans over to the side and pukes from a mixture of pain, anxiety, guilt, and terror. he makes sure it's not getting on anything but the ground because he doesn't want to be even more of a bother. ]
Sorry. I'm good now.
[ yeah, as soon as he says it, he starts to list to the side, his grip on blitzø slackening because he's too woozy from the blood loss to reliably control the motors. ]