[His hands pause during the worst of Roman's writhing, giving the man a few seconds to breathe before he continued the slick bloody work. Raylan let a few long seconds of silence linger between them.]
You're real weird about the shit that you care about doin' you harm. You're not untouchable and assholes here aim to fuck around and find out.
[He finally manages the last stitch and ties it off, making sure it's secure before getting the scissors and snipping off the tail. The bottle was grabbed again and poured over the wound.]
Stay there. [It was his turn to pull deep from the bottle, bloody fingerprints already soaking into the label paper. He swallows and just stares at the wound, jaw working.]
You're still gonna have to go to the infirmary. But at least now you won't bleed out. I'm gonna havta refill my first aid kit if you're comin' home with shit like this.
Are you gonna leave that man alone now? [Izzy that is; Raylan's brain was doing a few tasks at the current moment, too many thoughts produced this.]
[ He might have started to protest about going to the infirmary--hell no, absolutely not, if Misty's there he's never going to hear the end of it--but he's still a bit rattled from Raylan calling him out seconds before. That, and the alcohol being poured over his body, which makes him yelp in a rather undignified, pained way.
He presses his lips into a thin line, looking down at his (gross) wound and trying his best not to throw up about it. That's a lot of blood, and sure, he won't die, but it's still his blood... ]
I won't start shit with him. [ It's not a no, but Roman's genuine about his word choice at least. He frowns, forcing his gaze away from his wounds and back up at Raylan. That's too difficult, too, so he settles for a nice spot just above Raylan's eyes so it's not complete eye contact. ]
[Raylan takes a deep breath and sighs it out his nose, nodding shallowly as he studies Roman's face, fully cognizant of the fact that Roman wasn't quite meeting his eye.
There were some easy concessions that could be made. Roman was going through a lot right now.]
Okay. [He wouldn't make Roman Promise. Not this time. This time, Roman was going to get the benefit of the doubt that he was, in fact, promising to not start shit.] And don't let him get within arm's reach again. Don't sit with your back towards a public door neither. Don't leave a drink out around him - if he's in the bar or somethin' get your drink to go. No chance for him to go all Jonestown on ya.
[ It's not quite like he's being given rules--it seems more like advice. Weird advice, probably useful advice, but Roman finally makes eye contact, more out of the absurdity of it all. Vaguely startled into having manners. ]
I really don't think he's the type of guy to go roofie. He's way too reactionary for a long-haul.
[ But he's not ruling the rest of the advice out, he's definitely going to steer clear of the speakeasy for a while. ]
And if you die, I'll kill you. [He took another deep breath.]
Now lets get your narrow ass to the infirmary so a real medical professional can take a look at that. I'll ask 'em for the good drugs too, put you on cloud 9 or somethin'.
[ Like Raylan hadn't been stitching him up. But Roman gets up, wincing as he does so, and tries his best not to look like he's secretly losing his shit. ]
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no subject
You're real weird about the shit that you care about doin' you harm. You're not untouchable and assholes here aim to fuck around and find out.
[He finally manages the last stitch and ties it off, making sure it's secure before getting the scissors and snipping off the tail. The bottle was grabbed again and poured over the wound.]
Stay there. [It was his turn to pull deep from the bottle, bloody fingerprints already soaking into the label paper. He swallows and just stares at the wound, jaw working.]
You're still gonna have to go to the infirmary. But at least now you won't bleed out. I'm gonna havta refill my first aid kit if you're comin' home with shit like this.
Are you gonna leave that man alone now? [Izzy that is; Raylan's brain was doing a few tasks at the current moment, too many thoughts produced this.]
no subject
He presses his lips into a thin line, looking down at his (gross) wound and trying his best not to throw up about it. That's a lot of blood, and sure, he won't die, but it's still his blood... ]
I won't start shit with him. [ It's not a no, but Roman's genuine about his word choice at least. He frowns, forcing his gaze away from his wounds and back up at Raylan. That's too difficult, too, so he settles for a nice spot just above Raylan's eyes so it's not complete eye contact. ]
Lesson learned, okay?
no subject
There were some easy concessions that could be made. Roman was going through a lot right now.]
Okay. [He wouldn't make Roman Promise. Not this time. This time, Roman was going to get the benefit of the doubt that he was, in fact, promising to not start shit.] And don't let him get within arm's reach again. Don't sit with your back towards a public door neither. Don't leave a drink out around him - if he's in the bar or somethin' get your drink to go. No chance for him to go all Jonestown on ya.
no subject
I really don't think he's the type of guy to go roofie. He's way too reactionary for a long-haul.
[ But he's not ruling the rest of the advice out, he's definitely going to steer clear of the speakeasy for a while. ]
no subject
And if you die, I'll kill you. [He took another deep breath.]
Now lets get your narrow ass to the infirmary so a real medical professional can take a look at that. I'll ask 'em for the good drugs too, put you on cloud 9 or somethin'.
no subject
[ Like Raylan hadn't been stitching him up. But Roman gets up, wincing as he does so, and tries his best not to look like he's secretly losing his shit. ]
Alright. But no Misty. I fucking hate her.
[ And with that, he's out the door. ]