2013-03-01 Not a Morning Person

After returning from One's apartment, Domino had gotten Kurt situated in the tiny studio's only bed before taking off by herself, intending to get a couple of drinks then return. It seems as though the evening had much bigger plans in store for the mercenary woman, as a brief stop for drinks turned into a ten hour marathon. It's well into the night by the time she stumbles back in, shuffling uneasily and leaning against the wall. One hand hangs onto the barrel of a large battle rifle, using it like a walking stick as she stumbles first to the mini freezer for a bottle of vodka, then to the tiny bathroom not far away. The sink is left to run as she picks around in the cabinet, selecting a handful of pills then downing them with a generous helping of alcohol. For this woman, things are about to get a whole lot worse before they get any better.

In another minute there's a strained "Hnng..HRRAGH!" followed by the *tink* of something heavy falling into the sink. Something larger and heavier scrapes against the porcelain dish before the water is turned off.

Another graceless stumble lands her in the bathtub, her gear and trench barely removed from herself as she pulls out a collapsible baton, catching the rubber-coated handle in her teeth before upturning that bottle of vodka right onto herself.

Seconds later she, too, falls unconscious. The bottle falls from her limp fingers, bounces off the edge of the tub, then rolls across the bathroom floor spilling out cold, clear liquid that sweeps through the streaks of blood until the floor is marblized in pink. Caught in the red-stained sink is a single, mangled rifle bullet and a multi-tool with the pliers extended, similarly stained. Wherever she's wandered there's specks of blood and discarded weaponry left behind, scattered about without reason. There's also a mysterious black suitcase left beside the freezer.

Welcome home, Domino.

Kurt is pretty much in the same position as when he was sprawled, limp onto the bed. All quiet in the apartment means nothing wakes him from this dreamless, unconscious state. Nothing that begins to cause him to stir, to force consciousness to the fore.

With no attempt of silence, Domino arrives back, and while there is no real rousing as if from sleep, there is the journey that begins, the sounds of the world beyond beginning to insinuate itself into the world of the unconscious. The elf moves a foot, a hand, a tail as he rises to the surface, finding that semblance of wakefulness, but it'll take more than a few minutes.

Kurt well knows the state he's in; been there, done that.. and knows where and when to push. The noise in the bathroom is beginning to subside, and his tail flicks again with sudden annoyance that he's not gaining the use of all faculties as quickly as he'd like. The knowledge that there's been injury still eludes him.

Finally, and so damned slowly, the blue elf opens glowing yellow eyes and blinks in the darkness there. With a little light, there's nothing that Kurt can't see, provided it's not obscured by something.. and he begins to push himself off the bed; painfully slowly, but he's doing it.

Muscles ache and his head swims, but he finds his footing. Blinking, he can see the trail, and there's a moment when he takes that breath. There's a distinct odor of iron, and gaining his feet fully, he looks around, and catches the door of the bathroom.

"Leibchen?"

Padding his way towards the bathroom, he looks down to see the spattering of blood that acts as a breadcrumb trail.. and his eyes widen. The source of the iron.. the blood, or rather, more likely the guns as he's not quite Logan. But! He's got a great imagination; or rather, in this case, a rather bad one.

"Leibchen?" Comes louder.. and a touch more insistant.

Opening the door to the sight, it's enough to make even the more experienced Paramedic blanch and hesitate. Kurt pauses that heartbeat, and steps over the random bits, tripping in the mix of liquids on the floor to in order to get to her side quickly.

"Breathing.. are you breathing, leibling.." now, Kurt begins to mutter, going over all those steps. "Yes.. you are.. but.. oh, it may sound stupid, but you look paler than usual.." and now, begins the first aid, and the fussing. "When will you ever listen to me, leibchen. I tell you this over und over.."

Between the bottle of alcohol and the open bottle of prescription pills, naturally with the label vacant (though likely Vicodin or something similar,) Dom's intentions aren't well masked. Too exhausted to do any more about her condition, she put herself under for what should have been several hours. Time enough to start to pull back from that ragged edge where life crosses over into death. It's a plan which she's employed countless times, kill the pain and let nature run its course without her being in the pilot's seat. It's risky, sure, but that's also the nature of the beast. Without the risk, she's just another hired gun.

Tonight, she's an unlucky looking hired gun that's got a furry blue mutant-demon hybrid fussing over her.

"Mmh..you're still here..?" she says in a weak, slurred voice. As if she expected you to sleep it off then see yourself out! "You tell me lotsa things over n' over. If it's all the same to you, I think..I'm gonna take a coma now."

The risks involved with the game she's playing are easy to see, the armored black skin tattered and torn in ways it had never meant to be. A bullet hole in the right side. A deep knife puncture in the left. A gash beneath the left arm. Dried blood crusted around either ear. Scratches all over her face in varying levels of scabs. Plus whatever's hiding beneath the armor, itself.

"If Jersey calls..tell 'em t'go fuck themselves."

Kurt looks about the room, those hints of what is taken and when. The vodka bottle is one thing.. and the emptied phials of prescription-for-someone-else brings his attention back around to the pale one.

"I am going to pick you up und bring you to the bed," Kurt whispers, "und then I'm going to.." what? Call 911? Please. Mutant. Kurt wouldn't trust a hospital around here for anything. And 'Mutie General' was still being rebuilt. And the Clinic? Shot to hell. "Help you," he finishes.

Reaching into the tub, Kurt tries to get his hands under her, gently lifting before he pauses.. and sets his jaw. "This will hurt me almost as much as you, leibling."


 * bamf*

It's a short trip to the bed, and he's got a crouched hold of her, and setting her on the bed isn't anywhere near as jarring as carrying her. If she could focus, she'd see that just that short distance took something out of him. A lot, really.. but he's standing.. or rather, crouching.

"Let me look at these," it's so hard to keep his emotion from taking over his voice, but Kurt knows he's got to push all that back. He's lost too many friends, and the way to not lose this one is to do things right. The first time. And when hands begin to shake and fear sets in?

Later, Kurt.

"I am going to remove your armour und your clothing," is announced. "I will avert my eyes at the proper time." But he has to get a look at the injuries and .. if not close them, then get an idea. But.. so much blood.

"Und call the doctor from the Institute. He'll come."

"But then I'm gonna bleed all over the bed," Domino protests in that hazy, dream-like voice. Like staining the sheets is the worst thing that could happen tonight. Verbally protesting isn't very easy tonight, and much less so for the physical sort. Teleporting? That one she's got nothing to work with.

In a flash she's on the bed, her stomach churning from the jump despite the short distance covered. "Ow," she mutters after an almost comically lengthy delay. "Stop fussing, Fussball. M'fine, just..gotta sleep it off. Hundred times before."

She can try to stop you. She's -going- to try and stop you. You could stop her from trying to stop you with the weight of a finger upon the limb.

"Well lookit you, Herr Doktor," she mutters with a distant grin, her mind swimming too much to fully comprehend what you're aiming to do, or that you're doing much of it. The reinforced zipper still works fine, despite being caked with sludge and grime. As usual it's primarily pasty white skin beneath, smeared with that messy crimson highlight which is also entirely typical with her. Adding to the mix are numerous softball-sized bruises that turn the sheet-like hue of her skin into a galaxy of unhealthy looking colors. Seems like the armor succeeded in doing its job more often than it failed.

"M'serious, Blue. I wake up, stitch myself together, life goes on. S'what I do."

"Then you bleed on the bed. If you don't want blood on the bed, then you do not get injured." Seems more than logical to him.

Kurt begins to peel some of the offending (in terms of looking at the wounds! Get your head out of the gutter!) armour off, and some of the clothes away from the wounds so as not to have any clotting with fabric, and should there be resistance? His tail is more than capable of running interference. Once he's got a pretty basic idea, he shakes his head slowly and pulls himself off the bed in order to find cloth.. clean the wounds, bind them.. and then drive her home to the Institute. Home. But that's later.

"Nein, leibling.." and his tones are soft, worried, "One day, your luck will run out," is whispered, "und where would that leave me, ja?" Lighting a candle.

Blasted tail... It doesn't seem right that something as thin and whip-like as that could be so freaking strong. Having drugged herself doesn't do her any favors in the resistance department.

"They've tried to take it away from me already," she counters. Trask's operation. The same moment when you lost your bamfage, and so many others lost their own gifts for a time. "Always comes back. You worry--" she cuts off with a sharp hiss through her teeth, "--too damn much. I tried to tell you this is what happens with me, it's not about to change."

It's a good thing that you didn't tell Domino about the planned drive back to Xavier's. She'd find some proper strength to dig her heels in on that matter.

"This is what I do. This is what happens. You shouldn't have seen this."

Kurt's in the small effeciency's kitchen, heating up water with a rag. "It is my job to worry, leibling," he calls. "If I do not, who will?"

Once he's got the bowl, and his towel, he makes his way back to the bed. Sitting upon the edge gingerly, Kurt begins to clean her up slowly and carefully. "I worry because I care. Und before you get upset about that, I would do this for any of meine freunden." But he's not about to single her out as 'one of the special ones'. He knows what a foot sandwich tastes like, and it's a bitter, harsh flavour. "Even if you are more attractive than most."

Most? Nice.

"I could not leave," daub.. wipe.. "Not you." Rinse, daub. "I could leave Scott. Or Logan.. ja, Logan. That healing thing he has. Makes him crankier than usual."

"You're good at it," Dom admits. "But you've got enough people to worry about without my contribution. You're gonna make your blue turn grey before the year's over, Kurt."

Not that she could tell you to get out of her life and expect it to happen. Not..that she would really want to. Especially after the falling out and uneasy regrowth between Shift and her, there's been something of a void in her life lately. That thing most people label as 'friend' and have more than one of.

While you're returning with the bowl and rag she's just now taking stock of what injuries she's able to see, tenderly probing around the knife wound with a tightening of her jaw. "Bastard got me good on that one... Hope he's choking on his own molars by now."

When you return to her side she looks back to you with a light scowl. "I'm still not your responsibility. Besides, you're here because -I- was--Ow!--trying to help -you.-" Snort. "Who -wouldn't- leave Scott, guy doesn't have a clue what he's doing. I tried, I really did. Fell on deaf ears. To hell with him."

Aah, anger. It's a great way to focus, and stay alert. And deal with pain.

"I don't think I'll go grey," though Kurt's never given it much thought before. "My mother looks great." His rag pauses in his wiping, and he scowls briefly, "Not like that." Even though he //did// almost hit on her.. okay, he did. But thankfully was warned away. "Not a grey hair to be seen."

Kurt lifts the rag for you to check the injuries you can actually see, and he nods slowly. "You did help me. Und now, I repay you by driving you nuts." He offers a weak smile; one that has more than a little concern behind it. "I could offer to repay you with dinner und flowers, but.."

Back to work, then, he goes, daubing at the spots, murmuring as he checks the bumps and bruises. "I will speak to him. I should have, und I will." But if he gets no satisfaction? What will he do? The elf exhales and brings yellow eyes to your face. "I'm glad that I am not crazy."

"Be glad that you still have one, Kurt," Domino says through a drawn out breath, pinching her eyes closed as you mop up the gore. "Great looking, or not. I don't even care if it's 'like that' or not. You're fortunate."

Repay her by driving her nuts, "Got that part ri--Auh!" If you've ever seen the wound left from getting shot while wearing a vest, you know what those bruises are from. Breathing through tightly meshed teeth, she explains "Nine-millimeter. Steel-cored. Boys didn't play around." As if such an explanation would benefit you, somehow.

Willing herself to relax, she nods in agreement. "You should. And Bobby should. And Warren should. If anyone has a problem with the way things have gone, they need to tell him directly. He turns down any message not coming straight from the source."

Wait a second. Blue eyes slit open, peering back up at you. "Why would you be crazy? If anyone here is it'd be me, definitely shoulda negotiated a better payout."

Kurt's touch is gentle as he cleans, in turn dipping the rag in the pinkening water and then cleaning the injured, insulted flesh. "You do not?" He exhales softly, "Do you remember her at all?" If it means turning your thoughts from the violence of the recent past, well.. so be it. And, he wants to know. "My mother was not much of one. She threw me over a cliff.. und the stories are different as to what happened. I was found, or my father brought me to the circus."

He lifts a hand to lift your hair out of your face, and he smiles. "You were lucky, ja.." and he clucks softly. "I will try to rely on that too, to save my sanity."

"Nah, not anymore," Domino replies in a tone that might suggest she's about to pass out all over again. "Yeah. I can still see her face." A small grimace follows, though it's probably more in relation to your own story. "Off a cliff, for real? Was she tryin' to teach you to fly? Should ask Warren, find out what age he got kicked out of the next. You're not alone, though. Not about the whole 'off a cliff' thing, just..."

It's starting to get difficult keeping track of what's real and what's not. Like talking within a dream.

"Knew mine for maybe five minutes. Took years just to find her. Not much of a reunion. Sometimes not knowing is your best bet."

"In Bavaria, people are still a little funny about mutants." Particularly those that look like Kurt.. and his mother. "In the circus, I got away with it because people assumed it was a costume."

Kurt shifts and rises, taking the water with him. It needs to be reheated and cleaned. Pulling blankets up, the least he can do is keep you warm. He can hear those slurred words, but also the desire to talk. No.. the willingness to talk.

He returns soon after, and with a knee on the bed, settles again to begin to dress the wounds with clean rags he's found. "She is still your mother. Part of what you are is because of her. You may not know, but perhaps manners or.. the way you walk. In the smallest of ways, there is still something."

"Pretty convincing costume," Dom says with a slight grin passing through her. "That's all behind you now, though. No more need to assume."

Little else can compare to a near death experience for helping open someone up to the realm of communication. The narcotics certainly help.

"Not as much as you might think," she continues with that same grin turning somewhat sarcastic. "Was. Pretty sure I got her fighting spirit, at least. Never knew when to quit. Sounds kinda familiar, doesn't it. What about yours, she all ..fuzzy and blue? Any relation to that McCoy guy?"

"Was.. I am sorry." And Kurt is genuinely.. sorry. Where there's life, there's hope. When there is none, well.. it falls upon the living to continue. He smiles, though his smile doesn't hold any of that sarcasm. "That is not a bad thing to inherit, leibling. Though it will be the death of me, I would not wish you to lose that."

The question regarding his mother, however, brings a laugh as he carefully dresses and covers the wounds. "My mother is blue, ja.. yellow eyes like my own." A quiet chuckle sounds at the thought of the fuzziness, however, and he shakes his head. "That is all me. Und Beast isn't a relation. At all, I might add." Not father, not brother.. nothing. "I am still learning about her, so.. I don't know what it is I get from her, other than my good looks."

Setting everything aside, Kurt lies down alongside you, his tail tucked away so as not to give any concern. He doesn't reach to hold you.. but rather, his back will face. "You will need to sleep soon, leibling. You will be colder than the blankets will give because of the loss of blood. So I will be here to help keep you warm.. und no other reason." He swears.

"Did you ever learn who your father was?"

There's a slight scrunching of the face in relation to your sympathy, "Don't worry about it." It's the same sort of response that Domino gives for almost any situation. Not worth mentioning, don't think about it too hard. "Guess we're even, then. Your mother hen routine's gonna be the death of me."

"Seem to be a lot of you blue guys running about. Don't often see any green, or red, or orange. Or purple," she thinks outside of her head. "Hey, if she's still out there, go talk to her. Words can only hurt you so much."

There for warmth. Any other day, -any- other moment, and she'd have some dry response for you ready to go. The most difficult part would be picking which of half a dozen witty comebacks to run with! This time? "Sure." If that's how it is, that's how it is. Too tired, too weak, too damned foggy to do anything more about it.

That last question edges into her conscious mind right as she teeters on the edge of consciousness, itself. In that same tired, dream-like trance as before, she says the first thought to cross through her mind. "I never had one."

"You will get used to my being a mother hen. Soon, you will expect it. After that, you will enjoy it, though you will never admit to such." Beat. "No one ever does." Kurt chuckles softly, "That is my prediction."

Sure enough, the elf is warm. It could be the fur, or if someone wanted to get creepy about it, could be the fact that he's Neyaphem. Still, he's doing exactly that which he said he would; he's there as a bed warmer (and as a teddy bear). Body heat. And his tail is keeping out of the way.

"Ja. Now, you cannot swing a dead cat without hitting someone who is blue. In a way, it's a little disappointing. What is the point of being a unique color if you are not unique." Kurt's not too terribly upset, and his tones sound as if he's wearing a grin, which he is. "There are very few of us that have tails, however." He's very proud of his tail!

Yellow eyes begin to close in comfort; not what he'd have expected laying beside you. He's.. relaxed. "Neither have I. One day.. perhaps curiousity drives me to wonder.." Still, it's no matter, and he blinks a couple of times, feeling the heaviness of his eyelids. Even without having taken the medication Domino had, he can feel sleep tugging at him. "Susse traume, leibling," he murmurs. Sweet dreams.