[ Wren appreciates his willingness to work with them, here. They grab his phone to have it ready since they have a sinking suspicion as to what they'll find when they tug up his shirt to peel back the bandage and check. ]
[He groans a little when his shirt gets pulled up, but mostly it was just because even through his fever he was pretty sure he knew what Wren was going to find.
The stitches that Wren had used to close the hole in his side had pulled at some point between their evac and when he'd woken that morning, shivering and half delirious. He wasn't bleeding horribly, but the bandage was red enough to prove that something was no longer correct.
The number that was stored in his phone went to a voicemail of one Dr. McCoy, Gotham General Emergency Room. The instructions were clear, leave a message and he'd call back when he could.]
[ Something was no longer correct, there was someone they could call, Wren was calling immediately, only pausing first to ask Jason whether to use 'Jason' or 'Red Hood' for the call. Then it was the most detailed they could manage - gunshot, stitched, stitches pulled in the broader sense then exactly what they were seeing. Repeated call back number, thank you for your time, hang up. ]
Okay. It's going to be okay. It's not good but it's not as bad as I was worried. You're going to be okay.
[ 'Not as bad as I was worried' wasn't saying much when you probably had anxiety, mind. They put a fresh bandage on anyway while they waited for the callback. ]
[The answer to that question had been 'either, doesn' matter. Jason works for Hood' and an exaggerated faceplant into his pillow. He felt like ass and he was burning up and not really one hundred percent cognizant of absolutely everything, but he still had enough sass left to whine.
Of course, that wasn't saying a whole hell of a lot. He'd literally gone to his grave sassing. It was a trait that was absolutely vital for Robins, it would seem.
He did hiss a little when they changed his bandage, however. It was red and swollen and angry red lines were starting to creep out from the wound. Honestly, it had probably been hurting since just after they'd gotten back to Gotham and he'd just been too stubborn to see anyone about it.
The phone rang about twenty minutes later, a gruff sounding man with a thick southern accent taking the details from Wren, grumbling as he listened. His shift ended in two hours, Jason would survive until then and if he didn't then he was already too far gone in the first place.]
[ Wren did not bother to lecture him on saying something sooner earlier. Like when he got shot in the first place, they knew the desire to do so was coming from a place of worry, of fear, and it would do no good right now anyway. Better to breathe through it and let it pass and come back with a clear mind if it was something worthwhile to bring up later.
They remained remarkably calm on the phone, falling back onto the 'good student' persona, no sass from them but all 'yes sir' and 'thank you sir', only asking for if they should try to get Jason to eat or drink something in that time or let him be. ]
[Jason smirked into his pillow, peering up to watch as Wren was told that getting him to drink water would be alright, but no food. Chances are, he wouldn't eat anyway, and that was the truth.
His stomach felt like a lead brick.]
You're cute when you fret, know that? 'M fine. Just...cold. Achy.
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The stitches that Wren had used to close the hole in his side had pulled at some point between their evac and when he'd woken that morning, shivering and half delirious. He wasn't bleeding horribly, but the bandage was red enough to prove that something was no longer correct.
The number that was stored in his phone went to a voicemail of one Dr. McCoy, Gotham General Emergency Room. The instructions were clear, leave a message and he'd call back when he could.]
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Okay. It's going to be okay. It's not good but it's not as bad as I was worried. You're going to be okay.
[ 'Not as bad as I was worried' wasn't saying much when you probably had anxiety, mind. They put a fresh bandage on anyway while they waited for the callback. ]
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Of course, that wasn't saying a whole hell of a lot. He'd literally gone to his grave sassing. It was a trait that was absolutely vital for Robins, it would seem.
He did hiss a little when they changed his bandage, however. It was red and swollen and angry red lines were starting to creep out from the wound. Honestly, it had probably been hurting since just after they'd gotten back to Gotham and he'd just been too stubborn to see anyone about it.
The phone rang about twenty minutes later, a gruff sounding man with a thick southern accent taking the details from Wren, grumbling as he listened. His shift ended in two hours, Jason would survive until then and if he didn't then he was already too far gone in the first place.]
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They remained remarkably calm on the phone, falling back onto the 'good student' persona, no sass from them but all 'yes sir' and 'thank you sir', only asking for if they should try to get Jason to eat or drink something in that time or let him be. ]
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His stomach felt like a lead brick.]
You're cute when you fret, know that? 'M fine. Just...cold. Achy.
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Don't act charming when you make me worry, ass. I'm going to make you some tea.
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[It was said complete with cheesy crooked grin.]
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[ They touched his hair again, running their hands through it. ]
I'm going to go make you tea. I'll be right back.