Yeah no shit. [He tries so hard not to lean into the support, tries to keep his feet, breathing carefully through the pain churning in his gut, restricting his breathing. Careful breaths, in and out, he won't let himself panic or hyperventilate.
If he's going to die he's going to have some fucking dignity.
But his skin no longer feels like it's on fire, there's no sharp sting of pain through his arm and neck and face. Instead it's the screaming agony of his leg that finally gives out on him, sending him toppling into the chair. He bites down on a cry so hard and so fast he tastes blood, sharp and metallic, his lip swollen and sensitive against his teeth.
And that's when his breathing starts to get a little too ragged, dark spots dancing across his vision.]
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If he's going to die he's going to have some fucking dignity.
But his skin no longer feels like it's on fire, there's no sharp sting of pain through his arm and neck and face. Instead it's the screaming agony of his leg that finally gives out on him, sending him toppling into the chair. He bites down on a cry so hard and so fast he tastes blood, sharp and metallic, his lip swollen and sensitive against his teeth.
And that's when his breathing starts to get a little too ragged, dark spots dancing across his vision.]
Cura... tives?
[He hadn't even thought of something like that.]