tampered | Log: Ongoing

"Fucking limeys." Sands brings the bottle to his lips and drinks. His first drink since having his eyes turned to mush inside his skull. It's probably the best rum he's ever had. Ever.
And now he must find out who made it so he can kill them.

Sands, for his part, didn't make it far. He's limping after all and newly blind. The sounds keep jumping out at him and turning him in a direction he'd already tried. And that ticking. If he wasn't already a citizen of crazy town it would be driving him there.

The hand stops him. Partly because the voice is familiar in a horrible way. Obviously none of this is real. How can it be? He turns around to face Jack for the first time raising his head up. He was thinking something rude and burning but what comes out is a weak plea.
"Am I dead yet?"

The bottle drops from his hands to smash at his feet as he reaches up to take his sunglasses off.
"Help me."

When Sands turns with his question, Jack almost wishes he had a better answer. Still there's some small bit of joy in this...
"That is entirely possible..."
His voice cuts off sharply as he gets a good look at the man's face. For one, it's his face, and more worrying...there's blood running down the cheeks.

Jack wants to think the stranger just looks slightly like him. Just a coincidence. Once the sunglasses are off, though, there's no question...and Jack has to fight off the urge to throw up. His hand goes to his mouth and he takes a few steps back. He is not, by nature, terribly altruistic, but ... it's like helping himself, isn't it?
"Dear lord God.... What happened to your eyes, mate? ... Bugger... Right. Follow this way.."

Well, there goes the getting royally pissed plan. In fact, this whole situation has been quite sobering. Jack takes hold of Sands' hand to lead him back to building 8. He really can't think of what else to do.

Sands is thankful when Jack's question is asked on automatic and then seemingly forgotten for the moment. It's a rather short yet confusing story that he doesn't feel up to telling at this moment.

When his hand is taken he follows along completely willing to be taken in by this english hallucination. The trek is slow because he has a bullet in each thigh. But Sands' tolerance to pain is boarding on legendary around Mexico at this point. Though he's not there to enjoy it he'll think upon it and smile later.
His hand inside of the pirates is limp as he lets himself be lead like a child. He misses the boy with gum who was less likely to take his wallet and much more real.

On the way to the building Sands jumps and turns at random sounds. His sunglasses having been put back on, he's only slightly less conspicuous though. Twins leading each other through the strange city, one covered in blood and the other dressed as a pirate.

Jack is a bit too drunk and panicked to notice the leg injuries just yet, but he tries not to pull Sands off of his feet with the dragging. He pauses at the door to room thirteen and it occurs to him how much work it would be to get an injured and blind man onto the ship...it also strikes him that the room containing sand and sea might damage the other man's mind more than he needs at the moment. Apartment twelve is taken, but he's never seen a soul enter or leave fourteen.

The pirate throws open the door and pulls Sands inside. "I'm no sort of doctor, mate, but I'll see to patching you up if I can. I'll set about getting you real help, eh?"

The room's been left furnished? It's not something there's time to worry about. Jack sits Sands down so he can look over the wounds.
"What's your name, then?" Maybe they're related. Anything to explain the resemblance.

Though Sands would throw the sudden beach in with his 'I'm in a mental hosptal' theory, any wind carrying bits of dirt and sand is probably not the most hygiene place for a man with open wounds. The blood loss is seeping all his strength.
His body has been working hard for the last two hours to clot but it's taking it's toll on him. He's pulled and pushed in a manner that suggests Jack deals with awful wounds on a regular basis and as long as the other man is standing he's not to be treated like an invalid. This is perfectly fine for Sands who is in no mood to be cuddled. He just needs that ticking to stop. And blood back inside his body where it belongs. And sleep. Sleep would be great.

The voice so much like his own is disturbing his thoughts again.
"No doctors!"
Sands grabs at the man catching his arm and holds on tightly.
"No. Doctors. Please."
A doctor did this to him. He knows it's illogical but a medic would send him into fits of panic right now. He wants to explain to the helpful guy that he's fine and after a nap he'll just remove the bullets himself.

He nods before answering, not sure why. It's a good question. He answers in a mumbling distracted tone as his face turns like a radar listening for anyone else in the room.
"My name is Sheldon Jeffery Sands. I work for the Central Intelligence Agency. I throw shapes. I throw shapes, I set them up, I watch them fall. I'm living la vida loca."

No doctors. Well, hell..
"You're hurt bloody serious, Sheldon..." His tone is calm as he can make it, trying to counter the other man's madness. Jack's been hurt bad enough to sound like that maybe once or twice. And this seems far worse.
He knows better than to ask how Sands got shot, and he figures the question about the eyes will have time enough to be answered later if the man doesn't die.

"I'm not leaving. Savvy? I'm just going to fetch you more rum and something to clean you up. Just wait here."

Jack slips from the room and back to his ship with as much speed as he can. It takes several minutes, but he returns to the sparsely decorated olive green and off-white room with two bottles of rum and a great number of rags.

"Drink. It'll help the pain...at least some small amount." Opium would do him better, but Jack has none to offer. He wishes that he did.
The pirate wets a rag in the small, olive-tiled military bathroom and brings it back to try and clean some of the blood from Sands' face. He tears the legs of Sheldon's pants to see to the bullet wounds, but isn't sure what to use to dig the bullet out...not until Sands has at least had more to drink.

"You're hurt bloody serious, Sheldon..."
"Yeah." Jack has got him there. But still- this no doctor plan is a keeper.

He thinks he might have nodded at Jack's promise to come back. As soon as the pirate is out the door the ticking comes again. That is not a good sign.
The agent takes time to think. This person has no reason to help him. Sands isn't sure what he's been saying. There are some black parts here and there. So- gun.

Where is my gun?
His hands go to the holsters at his hips. They are both empy. Shoving one hand over the crotch of his pants he feels for his back up. Not there.
Oh good.
He frowns alone in the empty room.
I am unarmed.

Getting up very carefully he reaches out in the air so as not to bump into any walls. His feet make small shuffles across a speckled tile floor. Finding the nearest wall with his hands he follows that into a kitchen and starts rifling through drawers.
Hand towel, wooden spoon, ketup packets?, butter knife...
Sands holds up a spatula and thinks about it a while before shaking his head no and putting it back. After three more tries he comes across a knife about four inches long. Slipping that inside his boot he starts to explore the rest of the place.

It's small. What he's unaware of is that it's an exact replica of his dorm in the Army. There is a tiny bathroom to the right once you enter. The left is a kitchen only a foot bigger and the rest is a small living room/bedroom.
After a minute of exploring Sands makes his way back to the small metal couch coated in a nasty army green plastic.

He wants to get up again and find that fucking clock but has figured it's almost definitely in his head. As Jack enters it's gone. Then booze is shoved at him. Things are looking up.
"Oh, this will just stop that wonderful clotting thing I've been doing but well, I- Okay dokey."
Sheldon cuts himself off by drinking deeply off the bottle. Once he's had as much as he can in that breath it comes down to show the agent making faces at the taste.
"God Damn! This is swill."
Sands then drinks more of it. This time the drink doesn't come down until Jack is ripping his pants.

"Hey hey! Not for sale! Not for a bottle of this anyway."
He gives the back of Jack's hand a loud smack.
"I deal in cash, guns, or information, asshole."

Drinking = bleeding faster, is not an equation the pirate is readily aware of. Still, even if he were, he would opt to ease Sands pain over faster treatment of the wounds right now, anyway. He knows what he'd want.

"Watch your mouth. That happens to be some of the last of my best swill, and I'm rarely so generous with it." There's just something about seeing himself bleeding and suffering and lacking in eyes that brings out the sympathy in Jack.

Crouching in front of the agent, Jack smirks and raises a brow at Sands interesting assumptions about his intentions.
"Just as well, then, as -given my choice- I rarely deal in assholes. And this..." He runs the rag over the bullet hole with just slightly more pressure than is really needed. "...is just not how I get my jollies, mate. ... Can't speak for you, of course."

Sands agrees completely with this method of first aid. His talk of clotting was really just blabbering. He likes to speak when he's worried/confused/tired/happy/mad/hungry...

"Oh, Yessir, Captain, Sir." Sands making fun of the fact Jack talks like a pirate. He would have made it much more obvious if he knew Jack really was a pirate captain. His grip on the bottle is white knuckled. He could be told there was piss in it and he wouldn't be willing to give it up. It's appreciated more then he could possibly say even if he felt the need to.

Sands hisses. The muscles of his leg jump but he stays put. The rum hits him as soon as the deep sting lessons with the passing of that rag. He grabs Jack's shoulder with his free hand and holds on as the drinking one goes to work. After the next few gulps he decides to give it a rest. No sense in passing out.
"Not unless you have a sister with a better accent. Get her to pry the bullets out of me and that's a completely different story."

'Why do you look like me? Why do you look like me? Why...'

The question hangs in the air of every quiet second and plays havoc on Jack's mind, but he doubts it will help Sands much at the moment and he isn't sure he wants the answer anyway.
He tilts his head and narrows an eye when this relative stranger calls him 'Captain'. Jack can smell sarcasm form thirty paces, but this seemed fairly odd... Maybe it was coincidence, but it has him curious.

Jack is gentle, but not terribly so, as he tries to see how deep the hole goes. It's further in than most he's had and a larger hole as well.
"I could raise the timber of me voice and bat my eyelashes while I work, but I do so doubt it would help." He sneers at the obnoxiously deep wound and the gore of it. "...Not sure what I'm going to pull the shot out with, honestly. This isn't really a frequent hobby of mine..."

Sands has never heard a man talking like that outside the movies. And he's not one to pass up on easy and obnoxious insults.

Sands is not enjoying the poking around of his wound. he sets his jaw tightly and tries not to scream like a girl when Jack measures how deep it goes.
"JEEEEZus, man! I'm not here for you to finger fuck me."
Sweat pops out on his face and he takes off the glasses in order to wipe some off. His hand comes back wet with flakes of dried blood.

"Tweezers. Find a first aid kit. Do not stick your fingers in my leg again without gloves. I heard no gloves. You wear a rubber or any holes on my body are closed to you." This is probably 'blah blah yakky crazytalk blah' to Jack but Sands doesn't know.

Jack sighs with annoyance and flicks blood from his fingers. In his defense, he did rinse his hands a bit before starting this. Though, by no means enough.
"If you're interested in keeping nice metal bits in yer legs and arm as souvenirs, mate, do say so. I've not had my hands this bloodied by a man I wasn't killing in some great while. Honestly, you're ruining my shirt."
Which..was just lovely before this, of course.

Frustrated, Jack wipes his hands off on Sands' pants and sits back on his heels. Half of the shit anyone says around here is jibberish to him and he's learning to ignore it and try to play along until it makes sense.
"Alright, let's play this your way. Just where do you propose I get this kit, eh? I don't suppose you just happened -in a fortuitous turn of events- to have one on you?"

When Jack has removed pistol shot, it's been with implements last used to gut fish. Though, he prefers to have others remove his acquired lead so he may shout and complain all the while. It's annoying when Sands does this, though.
Sands seems to be against Jack's ideas so far, so the pirate goes to the computer sitting on a metal desk. He put up a request for help when he was on his ship to get the rum, perhaps there are replies. He hits buttons in the frustrated fashion old people using computers tend to.

"I asked for help for you... No doctors, I know... Seems some suggest getting angels to aid your recovery. Though, haven't any idea where they've got to right now and don't know about leaving to search..." This probably sounds like worlds of crazy. He tones it down for the next. "There's at least one other quick option available to us as well... " 'And it's a vampire who's lick may close the wounds' might be off-putting. "Got a preference?"

"I'll buy you a new one. I'll pay you handsomely for your service and the United States Government will be incredibly grateful. Just stop doing that thing you're doing and we'll be square."

When Jack finally stops Sands grasps his thigh with both hands leaning forward and very softly wishing for his mother. But it's unintelligible with his jaw clenched so hard. The rest of it is very carefully said in a growl.
"No. I do not have a first aid kit. But it's a busy city, friend. And I really don't mind you going to hunt one down."

He listens to the frustrated clacking of a computer as he relearns how to breathe normally from the couch. What Jack is saying is pretty crazy but so is Sands. This whole world is a very painful nightmare and when he wakes up he will be on a hospital floor with small mexican children poking his bullet holes with dirty sticks. That's plain now.
"Angels are never around when you need them. Get option B over here and I'll fill out the hush money forms for everyone."
His voice is tight and becoming a little manic. Sands body starts to tremble. Whatever happens it has to be tonight or he'll die in shock.

Jan stood before the door wondering if this would in anyway get him into trouble with Hellsing or anybody else, then quickly shrugged it off. The pirate knew he was a vampire and what he offered to do.

He knocked on the door and waited, Good thing Sparrow already knows what I look like from the icons, he shouldn't be too fuckin freaked-out.

Jack let Sands know Jan would be coming before leaving the apartment after supplies. Fortunately, there are at least a few within the building who know and like the pirate (he's good at that) and he soon found one willing to part with first-aid supplies and accept that they, personally, need not accompany him back to the room and assist with Sands. Too many strangers around is awful when you feel like hell.

This allowed him to get to the task of bullet removal.
"Not that you need to be told, I'm sure, but this is going to hurt like blazes." He wraps the case to a thermometer in thick gauze and holds it to Sands' hand. "May want something to bite on."

Jack has managed to pry at least one of the bullets free before the knocking at the door distracts him.

He answers the door with bloodied hands and shirt, but is pleased for the help.
"Cone in, mate. I've got one of the wounds clear, thus far. The bastards are in deep..."

Sands would deeply appreciate the fact he doesn't have a large audience for this.

"Wait." Sands has a specific position in mind and after a lot of pushing and adjusting on both their parts he has Jack with one arm wrapped around his leg as that knee presses into the pirate's chest. Otherwise he's going to move it out of overwhelming pain and it like a bad game of Operation where there are annoying buzzing noises there will be screams. The makeshift gag is stuffed in his mouth and he nods.

By time the first one is out Sands is covered in a slick sheet of sweat and not doing all that well. The rum is not helping any. By time Sparrow turns around to look at him again he's collapsed forward onto the floor.
Sands decided he'll warm the bench for the next round. Thanks anyway.

Jan walked-in and nodded, not at all put-off by Sparrow's blood-covered appearance, And I was worried about how I would look to him., he mused silently to himself.

"Brought something to counter-act any poisons....to be on the safe-side in case my spit doesn't work on everything. You know like if something bad is already going thru his bloodstream, which the lead might be if it was awhile before you found him." He reached inside his jacket pulling-out a bottle filled with water that had a slightly purple iridescence to it. "Get him to drink some it while I look over the wounds."

In his time, Jack has seen many odd things. Jan is, by far, not the worst of them.

He looks over the bottle and shrugs. "Better to be safe, then, eh?" There's a thud and he turns to look back at the man who was on the couch, now collapsed on the floor. "...Bugger... Might be for the best, though. Certainly saves me trouble."

Jack moves to Sands' side and rolls him onto his back, making visible the bullet wounds, as well as the missing eyes and the man's resemblance to the pirate tending to him. Lifting Sands' head slightly, Jack pours the liquid from the bottle into the unconscious man's mouth and tilts his head up to let it run down. No obvious choking...always good.

"So..Get to what needs done, then. I've got the shot pulled from the right leg. The others will go faster without his fighting me." He picks up the tweezers to get to dislodging the other two bullets.

While the pirate poured the unicorn treated water into the man. The vampire's yellow eyes studied the bullet wounds, Straight on shots, no problem digging those out. But the man's bloody sockets made Jan hiss in shock. He had seen alot of sick shit since getting turned, but somethings you never get use to. "When he got fucked-up it was on the Outside." Pointed at a gory empty hole, "I don't think they're gonna regenerate." Whispered softly.

Quickly turned attention back on the bullet wounds. Jan pulled a pocket knife out of his pants pocket, "I can get them out way fuckin faster than you can," He said snapping-out the blade easily with one hand while taking the tweezers from Sparrow in the other, "But it's still gonna hurt so hold him down best you can."

Moving around to the still unconscious man's left leg, Jan braced a knee against it using both his weight and vampiric strength to keep the limb pinned to the floor.

"Here we go." He growled the warning, then got to work with beyond human speed to get at the bullet.

The pirate is more than happy to give up both the tweezers and his duties. Hell, he'd wanted to just go at it fast with a good knife to begin with, but Sands was full of idiot whining and complaints.
"You're bloody welcome to it. Good on you with the knife." He nods to the blade.

Jack moves to lean his weight on Sands' shoulders and keep the CIA man still for the surgery. It brings him all too close to those hollow eye sockets and Jack chokes back a wave of nausea. There are, indeed, things you're never prepared for. He is very thankful for Jan's speed as Sands' body jerks under him.

A quick jab with the tweezers and the bullet was out. Looking it over carefully, Jan gave a satisfied nod, "All in one piece no fragments to worry about." He flashed a fanged smile at Sparrow, dropping the bullet into an ashtray sitting on push-to-the-side coffee table.

Sitting back on the floor the vampire looks again at the pirate, taking note of the various shades of green the guy is turning, Shit dude I don't blame you, looking at his face is making me sick too. Both gonna be feeling even fuckin worse with what I have to do about that.

Jan managed to supress a shudder and push the thought away for the time being. There was still the other wounds to attend to, "I'm gonna heal the wounds on his legs before we get workin on that shoulder, so go take a break if you want."

Turning so his back was to Sparrow and blocking his view, Jan leaned down over the freshly bleeding leg wound. Flicking out a too-long for a human tongue he gently probed at the worst of wound, coating it heavily with saliva. Feeling the flesh quiver from the acelerated healing process, the vampire slowly licked the whole injury stopping occasionally to press his tongue against the area.

Several minutes later all signs of a gunshot were gone, not even a bruise marked the spot.

Satisfied with the results (and getting a little free blood too) Jan went to work on the other leg wound.

The Captain gives the best return grin to those fangs that he can manage when the bullet is out. The quickness is a blessing and he takes the break offered to him to fall back and rest on his arms a moment.

Jack finds his way to one of the rum bottles he'd brought as anesthetic. If his sobriety is no longer quite so necessary, then he really could use a drink. He uncorks the aged and dirty bottle and takes a very long few pulls.
When he returns his attentions to his 'patient' and Jan, he can only barely see what's happening over the vampire's shoulder. The slick, squelching noises are far too clear, however.
The pirate turns his head half away, keeping his widened eyes on the scene. He really can't look away. When Jan finally has to shift to reach the other leg, Jack can see the first wound completely healed.
"...Interesting..."

This? It calls for more drink.
"And, that works on any wound at all, does it?"

Jan sat-up finished with the other leg wound. He was a little surprised the pirate had stuck around to watch. A few tough guys in the past had caught a glimpse of the vampire's healing technique. The ones that didn't passout first, turned tail and ran.

"Depends on the type of wound." He replied licking blood off his mouth, tongue catching briefly in one of the lip rings. "If it's really deep and or involvin internal organs can't fix it. Like gettin knifed in the chest and the blade hits an organ, that's something a doctor has to fix. Can heal some of it and keep infection from setting in but your still gonna be fuckin dead-meat from the bleedin happening inside."

Jan looked over at the man laying silently on the floor. "He's really fuckin lucky you got the unicorn-fixed water into him and I can heal the wounds what with his refusin a doctor. I can sense his lifeforce and it's still pretty strong so might not need a blood transfusion maybe, it depends on that last bullet."

The vampire turned his gaze back on the pirate, yellow eyes dropping down on the bottle Sparrow held, "Can I have a glass of that cause I'm guessin after seeing what I did you don't want me drinkin right from the bottle, huh?" Jan teased, doing a little levity before break was over and gruesome work restarted.

The good Captain has seen dead men walk, spirits possess the living, a monster haul a ship from the sea floor for him, men cooked alive and eaten, and currently has a dis-embodied and still beating heart in his quarters...not much sends him running unless it's made promise to kill him. Experience aside, he has a deep and overpowering curiosity for most things.

All the same, he wrinkles his nose when Jan licks the blood away. For a man who knows from experience that some parts of a man taste excellent when prepared right, Jack still thinks cannibalism is a touch icky.
He's glad to hear his doppelganger will likely survive this.
"Considering the poor bastard was on his feet and wandering the streets when I found him, I'd say he's got a bloody incredible will to live... and may be completely mad."
Which, the pirate is aware, aids with that will to survive.

Jack looks towards the kitchen, considering fetching Jan a glass, and shrugs with a chuckle. "What's the worst that could happen t'me?" He takes a short swig and passes the bottle over. The vampire's being a tremendous help. He deserves a show of trust in return. This isn't to say, of course, that Jack won't be wiping the mouth of the bottle thoroughly before his next turn.

Grinning at the offer of the bottle, Jan with his yellow eyes and dark skin, looked more like a Cheshire panther than a vampire. Taking the bottle he took a long pull from it. Usually he had rum mixed with something else, but it was OK straight.

Settling back against the ugly couch, he closed his eyes for a minute. Jan had thought of a plan for dealing with the bloody sockets. Be a little less disgusting then sticking his tongue in them but still stomach turning. Maybe they'd luck-out from word getting out and an angel showing-up to help before he actually had to do anything.

The vampire lazily opened his eyes, handing the bottle back to Sparrow, "You thought about what you're gonna do with your cousin here when we're done? In his condition with the crazy spell shit that happens and some of the people around here gettin off fuckin over others, he can't be left alone."

Being covered in blood, putting his fingers in open wounds, and even watching Jan thrust his tongue into the bloodied holes on Sands' legs had no serious ill reaction from the pirate. Jan's words now, however, have Jack's eyes wide and his nerves in edge. He looks ready to bolt for the closest exit if given a clear opening. A man who gave up all responsibility some many years ago can smell it approaching...

"What?" He narrows his eyes and wipes the mouth of the bottle to allow himself a very long drink. "I.. right right... Of course. He'll need to be cared for. And I'm certain someone will be benevolent enough to take up the task."
Jack doesn't trust much of anyone in the City and would hate to be left in the care of the strangers here...but..he can't just take in some blind man he stumbled into. He's not good with pets.

"I could take him but...." Jan did a nervous sigh thru his fangs, "I'm fuckin cursed, anybody who's gotten close to me has either had some bad shit happen to them or disappeared."

Pandora going crazy, Ieyasu in a coma, V almost dying, Eric and Cielo both gone - the only thing that kept Jan from crying in grief and frustration was seeing the prone, bloody man on the floor next to him.

A realization hit the vampire, changing his mood, "He's already had some bad shit happen to him so maybe I don't have to worry about that, huh?" Jan questioned Sparrow along with giving him a hopeful look too.

Sands woke up to 'I could take him out'. He assumes his murder is being discussed because he's a paranoid freak.
In a leg twitch meant to look like a muscle spasm be brings his foot closer to his hand and pulls the knife out. Sands is much better at long distance killing but since he's gunless this will do.
The agent sits up and puts the knife to Jan's throat as the vampire watches Jack. The movement causes him to sway a little.

"Where are we going? The suspense is just killing me."

Jack starts in on consoling Jan over his poor luck, making plans to steer clear of it, when suddenly it's staring him in the face...

"Oh bugger..."

The pirate drops his rum bottle in favor of gripping his sword. "Look, mate... Sheldon." First names are good for speaking to the unhinged. It's familiar. "Tha's the nice man what's seen to closing those great ugly holes in your legs. Do be more grateful, eh?"

Sands is assuming it's the adrenaline causing the pain in his legs to cease. Truthfully he didn't think of it at all until the pirate mentioned it. But that's not the point. This is-
"He was talking about killing me. Put your weapon down."

Sands has no idea if Jack is armed. But he's going to act like he is. It's safer that way. And 'if you have a weapon put it down' was much less intimidating.
Seeing as how he's holding a vampire at knifepoint with blood running down his ruined face- he might be overdoing the intimidation just a smudge.

Having been thru this sort of thing numerous times before, Jan was unperturbed. "You're gonna lie back down an we're gonna work on gettin that last bullet out." He said calmly with a shrug

Disarming the man and knocking him back into unconsciousness would be a piece of cake. However given all the hell the poor guy had been already put thru, Jan wanted to try a diplomatic approach first.

"Yeah. Sounds good. Except for the 'lie back' part of the plan." His free hand goes to the holes in his pants to find no bullet wounds where he was sure there were some before. Quite positive really.
Now take away the fact that this is impossible (he's worked through that since none of this is real or likely) Jan wont go healing people he plans to off later. So the only real question is,
"Uhh. Where were you planning to take me? Seriously." The knife pokes threateningly.

"Interested parties want to know. And it's a federal crime to withhold information from a government agent. Especially when that agent wouldn't think twice about gutting you and crawling inside for warmth."

On some level, Jack is really just entertained watching this. It's like watching yourself go mad on TV with the comforting knowledge that it isn't you at all. It's creepy, but train-wreck hypnotic.

"He was offerin' the job of being your nurse and caretaker because, honestly, I don't care t'wake up with some mad bugger holdin' a knife to my neck each mornin' if it can be avoided. I've tried it....I hated it."

Sands lets Jan go. Slowly.
"Well. If you can't trust your english echo who can you trust?"
The knife falls out of his hand and sticks point first in the tiled floor as Sands slumps back. That took a lot of effort.

"So. Take it out."

Jan pulled the knife out of the floor, tossing it on the still pushed-to-the-side coffee table. It hit the ashtray causing the spent bullet to roll around. "Yeah I will after Jack administers the anesthesia."

Leaving the pirate to the task of pouring more rum down the CIA agent's throat, Jan grabbed a rag from the small pile the pirate brought with him. Wiping blood off his hands he moved to the computer sitting on the nearby metal desk. Whenever there was a public call for the need of medical attention in the past, people came-out of the woodwork offering help. But so far no else has shown-up to help.

Scaning thru the entries, the vampire's sigh of relief (at it not being a spell behind the low turnout) turned into surprised at the poisoning of the kid samurai. Jan quickly typed a helpful reply to Kurogane (wondering if the guy would only bust the door-lock on his apartment or breakdown the whole door). The replies to the garden angel were anything but friendly, "Fuckin Ferdinand sittin on his ass in the flower field!!" The vampire muttered.

Leaving the news up for Sparrow to read when he had a free moment, Jan turned his attention back on the two men.

Hopefully the patient was good and drunk or better yet on the verge of passing-out.

"Jack. Is that your name, echo?"
He smirks in the direction of the pirate.
"Touch me with a needle and you are going to be lobotomized."

No. When Jan turns back from checking his friend page Sands is pushing Jack away from him.
"Take it out or I will but stop dicking around!"

"I've got no needles to threaten you with, mate."
Jack puts his hands up in a mock-defensive gesture, sloshing the rum. He will never learn not to pose and gesture around Sands. It will just have to go unappreciated.

He wrinkles his face when he's pushed away and shrugs.
"However you want it. If your having no part of this bottle, then I'm sure you won't mind my finishing it."
Jack stands to move out of the way for Jan and goes back to drinking deeply from the bottle. If it's being refused by Sands, someone should appreciate it.

Shit!! Jan grimaced at the sight of a very sober patient and a tipsy nurse.

Just as quickly he shrugged it off. There was always the chance the agent would pass-out early in the operation from the pain.

Waving the pirate over Jan gestured at the other man's torso, "Ok, you're gonna have to lay across his chest and keep him and his good arm from jerkin around while helpin me hold down the bad arm. It's gonna be a real fuckin bitch to get out cause he's awake."

Log: Ongoing

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