Miles Morales (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
telarano) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nexus_crossings2018-11-30 12:43 am
telarano) wrote in nexus_crossings2018-11-30 12:43 am
'Cause they will run you down, down til you fall
This was not the Spiderman that everyone knew. He was shorter, scrawnier (somehow this was possible) and his costume was black and red. A couple people had met him so far, but one didn't need to know him to realize that the rips to his clothing wasn't normal. Nor was the smell hazing him, smoke, fire, char. Blood.
Even without how he was trying not to limp he was clearly twitchy, practically shaking with adrenaline still as he found a more out of the way bench to sink down onto with a hiss of discomfort. He could feel the pain of his leg starting to punch through the fight or flight his life had been for the last hour or so, knew it would be followed by other injuries as he started to recover. But for now his ears were still ringing with the lingering echoes of the roar of infernos and gunfire, hyper-aware of his surroundings as he turned his attention to picking open the rip in the thigh of his suit again to get a look at the gash there. The bandage had gotten lost somewhere in the chaos, and it was a mess again, and he thinks it might be a bit worse-looking than it had started as.
At least he had his mask, so no one would see the lingering panic, or the exhaustion. And even without his spider sense he'd know someone was coming closer, speaking up in a voice that would be almost have a joking tone if not for the thready edge that hinted how close to the end of his tether this kid was.
"So... you wouldn't by chance know how to tell if something needs stitches, would you?" If not he had the web-shooters, could just web the injury over. He doubted that'd be good for the long run but it'd stop the bleeding at least while he hunted down a clinic.
Even without how he was trying not to limp he was clearly twitchy, practically shaking with adrenaline still as he found a more out of the way bench to sink down onto with a hiss of discomfort. He could feel the pain of his leg starting to punch through the fight or flight his life had been for the last hour or so, knew it would be followed by other injuries as he started to recover. But for now his ears were still ringing with the lingering echoes of the roar of infernos and gunfire, hyper-aware of his surroundings as he turned his attention to picking open the rip in the thigh of his suit again to get a look at the gash there. The bandage had gotten lost somewhere in the chaos, and it was a mess again, and he thinks it might be a bit worse-looking than it had started as.
At least he had his mask, so no one would see the lingering panic, or the exhaustion. And even without his spider sense he'd know someone was coming closer, speaking up in a voice that would be almost have a joking tone if not for the thready edge that hinted how close to the end of his tether this kid was.
"So... you wouldn't by chance know how to tell if something needs stitches, would you?" If not he had the web-shooters, could just web the injury over. He doubted that'd be good for the long run but it'd stop the bleeding at least while he hunted down a clinic.
no subject
But thankfully he was... writing? Which threw the teen through a loop, and he had to take a long moment to really process the idea, or what had been written.
A dinosaur with a whiteboard wasn't the weirdest thing in his life by a longshot, the thought of which just had him wanting to laugh until he cried. But he was too damn tired for that, just nodding slowly.
"That... that'd be really nice of you."