[If Rosso were to suggest- or even demand- a hospital trip, Adrian would refuse it anyway. It's not that he's in the business of dying so much as he figures that if he was going to die, he would have in the woods hours ago. He'd be pissed off if he died now, after all of that. The Crowe Clinic would take care of him, but the only issue is that it's 1) in Bavan and 2) definitely far enough that he'd either fly off Rosso's bike on the way there or just die trying to get there. He'd rather just suffer in the relative comfort of his own home, thanks.
And so here he lays, truly the most pathetic he's ever been, as he focuses on the sensation of Rosso's fingers running through his hair. He's been packed tight with gauze and cotton, and the bleeding has stopped. Assuming he doesn't suffer an infection or just keel over in his sleep, he should be okay. Not entirely out of the woods, perhaps, but...it's good enough.
When Rosso asks that, it's enough to stoke the flames of anger over the indignation of it all that Adrian had felt earlier. Again, his lip curls. He pulls it back to bare his fangs, vicious and bitter.
He hisses out his name, spits it, even though he's not sure Rosso will know it.]
Vash.
[He still barely knows him. Had no quarrel with him. Had suspected he would probably frenzy on some poor human population because he's too soft-hearted. Never in his whole life did he think he'd get caught in the crossfire.
And if Adrian knew better, he wouldn't tell Rosso in more detail who it is. Because he knows...he knows Rosso better than anyone. He will hunt him down.
But right now, Adrian is so pissed off that he's not sure he cares. The guy's a fighter, he proved that much to him in how easily he took Adrian down. Maybe he could use a wake-up call, before he murders half the peninsula in an ongoing rampage.]
Blonde. Stupid...red jacket. [Adrian shifts briefly, as if he's trying to get up, but instead he flops back forward, the claws in his right hand extending and dragging deep furrows into the wood floor beside the futon.] Fucker frenzied on me.
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And so here he lays, truly the most pathetic he's ever been, as he focuses on the sensation of Rosso's fingers running through his hair. He's been packed tight with gauze and cotton, and the bleeding has stopped. Assuming he doesn't suffer an infection or just keel over in his sleep, he should be okay. Not entirely out of the woods, perhaps, but...it's good enough.
When Rosso asks that, it's enough to stoke the flames of anger over the indignation of it all that Adrian had felt earlier. Again, his lip curls. He pulls it back to bare his fangs, vicious and bitter.
He hisses out his name, spits it, even though he's not sure Rosso will know it.]
Vash.
[He still barely knows him. Had no quarrel with him. Had suspected he would probably frenzy on some poor human population because he's too soft-hearted. Never in his whole life did he think he'd get caught in the crossfire.
And if Adrian knew better, he wouldn't tell Rosso in more detail who it is. Because he knows...he knows Rosso better than anyone. He will hunt him down.
But right now, Adrian is so pissed off that he's not sure he cares. The guy's a fighter, he proved that much to him in how easily he took Adrian down. Maybe he could use a wake-up call, before he murders half the peninsula in an ongoing rampage.]
Blonde. Stupid...red jacket. [Adrian shifts briefly, as if he's trying to get up, but instead he flops back forward, the claws in his right hand extending and dragging deep furrows into the wood floor beside the futon.] Fucker frenzied on me.