02-12-2020, 11:38 PM
One second, Michael had just been laid out on the ground, pitiful – not fucking pitiful, he found himself snarling out to that little voice in his head – and bleeding out. Caustic and whatever the fuck that giant bug creature was gathered in close around him, one's eyes glittering with excitement and curiosity, while the other's eyes reflected nothing but a nearly empty mind beneath them. It had hardly been what the bobcat would consider ideal, but it was certainly better than whatever the fuck was happening now. Now there were so many goddamn people all crowded around him, only half of them fucking children and only a small portion of them actually helping with his wounds. The male found his ears pinning back, anger and anxiety spiking hot in his chest as he resisted the urge to just snarl at all of them to go the fuck away. He knew that wasn't the best choice now, considering he was still very much injured, and at least the small portion that was helping was actually helping him, rather than just standing around to watch the life drain from his eyes. He decided to focus on Caustic first, figuring going one at a time would stop him from lashing out, the twisted buzzing almost like tv static still roaring through his body, "Yeah, no fuckin' shit I've lost a lot of blood. Trust me, I could feel it when it was pouring outta me." He didn't even bother trying to discuss Astiar, finding the other's explanation to be insufficient. Draconis? Cicadoidea? It sounded all like nonsense, like Astiar had been messily made up and mashed together by the universe.
The next person who had arrived on the scene was Gael, the vulpine moving over swiftly and immediately starting to get to work on the injuries littering Michael's body. He asked for a name, and Michael suddenly felt his mouth go dry. Sure, these guys hadn't yet tried to rip him limb from limb, and it didn't seem like his exploits had reached out this far, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn't recognize his name. Voice strained, he decided to use one of his aliases, "Michael... my name is Michael De Santa." Gael swiftly followed up his question with yet another, and the bobcat found himself snorting, a dry laugh leaving him as he resisted the urge to yank away from the sting of the poultice, "I don't fuckin' know... a few weeks, maybe? At least to this extent. I've been in various states for the last few months." He was trying not to be too much of a dick, since Gael was obviously helping him out, but to accurately predict for how long he had been injured now? He was pretty sure only a mathematician or a god could do that at this point. At the last question that fell from Gael's lips, Michael found himself glancing around, eyes scanning over each of the faces that lingered around him. It was a long moment before he responded, tail twitching and lashing behind him, "That depends... you guys some kinda cult?" He had never heard of The Pitt before, and he and Trevor had gotten into enough cult shit in the past for him to want no part of it.
The last three to arrive on the scene were the fucking kids. All foxes, and all staring at him in various states of wide eyed curiosity, although they ripped their gazes away fairly swiftly. Sweeney's question was blunt and uncaring, and Michael found himself recoiling in surprise before he responded, not sure if the question was truly directed at him or Gael, "Got goddamn kidnapped, is what I did... what're you, like, three months old? You guys have a lotta kids just wandering around out here?" The last question was directed more at Gael and Caustic, before his attention was ripped away by Noor. He blinked at her for a moment before he spoke, aggravation in his tone, "S'Michael, like I said." When she mentioned Gael's untrustworthy nature, the bobcat found himself snorting, unable to ignore the irony of that statement being said to him. Putting his head down a bit, Michael grumbled in a low tone, faintly smirking, "That's fine, kid. Trust me, I ain't the type to trust anybody, even when they patch me up – thank you, by the way." The last part was directed up at Gael, his voice a little rough from dragging himself across the desert. Aine had no questions for him, but Michael found that he didn't mind that much. He didn't particularly like being the center of attention in this shitshow.
The next person who had arrived on the scene was Gael, the vulpine moving over swiftly and immediately starting to get to work on the injuries littering Michael's body. He asked for a name, and Michael suddenly felt his mouth go dry. Sure, these guys hadn't yet tried to rip him limb from limb, and it didn't seem like his exploits had reached out this far, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn't recognize his name. Voice strained, he decided to use one of his aliases, "Michael... my name is Michael De Santa." Gael swiftly followed up his question with yet another, and the bobcat found himself snorting, a dry laugh leaving him as he resisted the urge to yank away from the sting of the poultice, "I don't fuckin' know... a few weeks, maybe? At least to this extent. I've been in various states for the last few months." He was trying not to be too much of a dick, since Gael was obviously helping him out, but to accurately predict for how long he had been injured now? He was pretty sure only a mathematician or a god could do that at this point. At the last question that fell from Gael's lips, Michael found himself glancing around, eyes scanning over each of the faces that lingered around him. It was a long moment before he responded, tail twitching and lashing behind him, "That depends... you guys some kinda cult?" He had never heard of The Pitt before, and he and Trevor had gotten into enough cult shit in the past for him to want no part of it.
The last three to arrive on the scene were the fucking kids. All foxes, and all staring at him in various states of wide eyed curiosity, although they ripped their gazes away fairly swiftly. Sweeney's question was blunt and uncaring, and Michael found himself recoiling in surprise before he responded, not sure if the question was truly directed at him or Gael, "Got goddamn kidnapped, is what I did... what're you, like, three months old? You guys have a lotta kids just wandering around out here?" The last question was directed more at Gael and Caustic, before his attention was ripped away by Noor. He blinked at her for a moment before he spoke, aggravation in his tone, "S'Michael, like I said." When she mentioned Gael's untrustworthy nature, the bobcat found himself snorting, unable to ignore the irony of that statement being said to him. Putting his head down a bit, Michael grumbled in a low tone, faintly smirking, "That's fine, kid. Trust me, I ain't the type to trust anybody, even when they patch me up – thank you, by the way." The last part was directed up at Gael, his voice a little rough from dragging himself across the desert. Aine had no questions for him, but Michael found that he didn't mind that much. He didn't particularly like being the center of attention in this shitshow.
[glow=#75603C,1,000]" oh, it's a setup, no, no, we won't fall. "[/glow]
— Reggan