Someone's Been Bleeding On My Bed


jason_icon.gif seamus_icon.gif harmony_icon.gif

Scene Title Someone's Been Bleeding on My Bed
Synopsis A quiet evening at home, turns into a bit of gunplay, with some living room triage.
Date November 23

Dorchester Tower Apartments - Jason and Harmony's Apartment

Long strips of polished wood merge seamlessly together and run through the foyer like a sheet of black ice. The mirrored finish pools into an open living room, drowning the adjacent kitchen in sunless hues offset only by a wall of burnt sienna cabinets glowing hot and bright as candles against the contrast of dark wood floors and onyx countertops-with a marbled obsidian finish so thirsty that even the three dangling lights directly above the kitchen island seem to be soaked up In the absence of daylight.

But the dark tide stems at the borders of two bedrooms, where thresholds mark the separation from public living spaces to private, beige carpeted, floors. The nearly-white tone that neutralizes the rooms is only a few shades cooler than the near-white painting every wall in the condo. The room to the right of the main space is small and simple: elegant - sharing a floor to ceiling window with the back wall of the living room, its own private bathroom and walk-in closet - but nothing compared to the master bedroom just to the right of the common room.

Another miniature foyer leads into this room, passing a den that's been converted into a musical storehouse for an army of instruments-although the vague remnants of a trophy room can be seen in the glass cases and wall mounts which now hold guitars and autographed records: somewhere in the back of the en, a single football poster remains, but it's been tattered and dirtied beyond recognition and obscured beyond notice.

Across from the den is the guest bathroom and a set of closets. Farther on is the master room itself, a wide space with ample room, a king size bed, enormous private bath, and terrace-the view from which is no small thing, given this fifth floor bungalow has been recently remodeled and still smells like fresh construction materials-which is to say, what it lacks in penthouse floor stature, it more than makes up for in penthouse floor accommodations.

A few sofas and some rugs invite guests to wait in the living room. There's a large plasma screen mounted to the wall opposite the bar, and an astounding view from the large windows overlooking one of the few functioning places left in New York City.

Room Plan Here:

Anytime that she is at home and not out on the streets, partying or causing some kind of fuss, or even using her ability to destroy shit, is a time of relaxation for Harmony. It just so happened that she had gotten off from doing a karaoke show not too long ago, and in the wee hours of the early morning, she doesn't really have anything else to do but stretch herself out on the couch, with a bowl of popcorn, a beer and a George Romero movie on the TV. She is dressed like one of those girls you would see in the beginning of those horror movies. Down to her skivvies, with a little camisole negligee hanging off of her shoulders.

*Sigh* This.. this is relaxation. With the water running a hot, bubbly bath in her tub, the fragrant scent of soothing bath oils drifting from her bathroom. The thoughts of her soaking in the warm waters, fills her mind, letting her stress and her troubles just melt away. The blond girl closing her eyes, munching on a piece of popcorn, shifting her legs together while she takes a look at her phone, sitting on the table right in front of her. Her brother hasn't called. This doesn't sit too well with her.

You know what else is satisfaction? Living room triage. Ho boy, she's got a fun night lined up for her! Sirens sound in the distance, and an orange glow tinges some far off buildings, easily missable if you're not looking for it.

Harmony's phone rings, with the number of a certain Irishman flashing on the screen.

One of the good things about being on the 5th floor is you miss quite a bit of the noise from the streets below. Police sirens and ambulances don't reach Harmony's ears, so there is no derailment from her time of relaxation, until the ringing of her cell phone. Ah, that's better. He'd better call her. She was gonna have to bust a certain brother in the top of his head. Spinning her legs off of the designer leather couch, Harmony reaches for her phone, picking it up to her ear without bothering to really see who it is.

"What's up, Chach?" the blond girl grins as she answers, reaching for the remote to hit the mute button on her movie. "I was wondering when you were gonna pick up the fucking phone."

"Chach?" replies a familiar Irish lilt, and Seamus gives a weaker-than-usual laugh, "Sorry, guess I missed your messages. How you doing, beautiful? Up for a little company?"

Of course, she was expecting someone else on the other end, the result is no less pleasant to her, enough to actually bring a smile to the girl's face. "Seamus.. hey. No, I was expecting my brother Nathan to call, sorry about that." she looks over at the clock, getting a gander at the time which makes her frown, "It's.. kinda late you know. Breaking curfew too much, I'll be having to make conjugal visits to you in prison. Martial Law is still in effect, you know." Wetting her lips, Harmony gets up from the couch, wandering over to the kitchen to set her beer down on the counter, "You should probably come up. I'll buzz you in. 504, remember?"

She isn't quite sure of the status of her roommate. She's pretty sure he is out and about, doing whatever it is those guys do at night. She doesn't ask, so far.. She has her own life of fun to lead. She reaches over to the wall to hit the button to allow the person at the door in. Because it's Seamus, she isn't going to even bother putting on pants. She can relax with him here.

"I know, I know. I'm just a bad boy, huh? And if you were visiting me there, jail wouldn't be too bad." Seamus takes a slow breath, letting it hiss out through his teeth. "504, right. The sooner the better and…uh…could you get a bath started while I make my way up?"

At the buzzing, there's the sound of a door opening on the other end of the line. "Be right up. And I hope you got plenty of whiskey."

The hell? Not even in the door, and he is already taking up all of her relaxation luxuries: bath, booze.. Harmony can't help but feel a little put out from some much needed R&R for her. But it is Seamus, so.. she can make an exception for the time being. As her bare feet pad across the cold marble floor, Harmony takes a second to peek in at the master bedroom, just getting a second look to make sure Jason actually isn't home. Satisfied, she moves to the front door, pulling it open in order to surprise him with the sight of her, wearing just what she is wearing.. or isn't wearing. Sexy pose in the door, she leans into the frame with one arm resting above her head, one long leg bent infront of the other, with her toes pointed to the floor, sheet nightie hanging off of one shoulder.

Eventually, the elevator door across the way dings, and the silver doors slide open. Harmony's sexy, promising pose reflected in the metal is replaced by another leaning figure, one arm up against the wall, and his other holding his jacket against his leg, tied tight around his thigh. His hand is stained red, and the pantleg of his jeans seems to glisten wetly.

Seamus' eyes rise to that promising sight, and though he smiles for her, his face is pale and his eyes are a little glazed. "Hey, Harm," he says, his voice wobbling as he tries to keep it cheery, though his t-shirt is stuck to his body with sweat as he heaves slow breaths, "You're a sight for sore eyes. Can I come in?"

Whatever sultry expression, or look of greeting Harmony had on her face quickly bleeds away when she sees the condition the the Irishman is in. "Oh my god! Seamus!" It is fortunate that there isn't anything in her hands, she would have dropped it right then and there as she quickly pushes off of the door frame, and rushes to Seamus' side. Her heart drops into her stomach, and her breath catches hard in her throat. She isn't too much of a stranger to the sight of blood. Many a drunken night included various accidents, but this? This is something all too different. Seamus obviously looks pale from the loss of blood.

"What happen?! Who did this to you?! Dear, god.. you're bleeding!" she uses her shorter stature to push herself up under one of his arms and guide him into the apartment, "Get in here! Right now.. get in here!" The girl in a bit of a panic, she is pretty sure she'll be carrying him into her place on adrenaline alone.

Seamus's smile turns sideways as Harmony comes out, and he straightens up as best he can until she pushes up under him and he groans, starting to stumble his way towards her door, wincing with each step. "Sorry y' had t' see this, lass. Not really th' thing I wanted t' have our next meetin' be about." Small smears of blood on the marble hallway leave a trail of his passage through her front door.

"Yeah, 'm bleeding. That tends t' happen when y' get shot. Say, got a question for ya, completely unrelated… How good are you at removin' bullets?"
Storylines> Mintberry Crunch Magnes says, "If Magnes had a giant hamster ball, he could run underwater instead of taking a boat."

Work boots scrape the concrete blocks leading up to the circular lot of Dorchester Towers apartments. The familiar ring of shrubbery and perennial flowers sitting in the middle of the driveway serve to remind Jason North that he's arrived. The red awning hanging over the lobby entrance, the first steps into the high-rise on the main floor, the security guards and doorman just past the foyer, all these things mean a level of comfort and success - - indicators that he's already begun to make something of himself in the shit hole that is New York's ruins.

"Happy Holidays," he says to a doorman, or a guard, it really doesn't matter. Just that tiny bit of validation can go a long ways. A hello, a smoke break, an eighty-five cent Christmas card, they all say the same thing - I recognize you exist. And it's the recognition that lets Jason waltz in and out of his building at all hours of the night, in order to meet all sorts of people, without recourse or question. Why? Because he's one of them, one of the lowly laborers that mop the floors, guard the coats, and make sure kids don't spray paint the sides of the building. One of the nobodies.

A clear circle glows orange as an elevator is heard dropping to the main floor. The doors open and Jason steps in. The lift goes to the fifth floor, but along the way he can't help but admire himself in the glossy metallic sheet comprising the left's roof. A few ceiling mounted bulbs light him up like a vanity and Jason smiles at himself. But next to his toothy grin he notices a stain, or a speck, or a trickle, or something…

Ding! The elevator door open on the fifth.

The drips from the elevator lead into the hallway, growing more obvious by the step. Cautiously, Jason follows them dot-by-dot up to his open front door. He's got half an inclination that something is amiss, and immediately figures it's the Syndicate: Confucius say, never mess with Chinese Refrain.

Instinctively he reaches back for his sidearm, reaching behind his belt and under his leather jacket. With a deep breath he prepares himself to take a bullet if he has too, and inches past the threshold and through the foyer.

"Harmony," he calls out, softly. "You ok?"

This is just what she needs. As if her own life isn't filled with gun shots and dodging bullets, she has to have other guys bring their injuries to her front door. She must really care about the big lug, because she doesn't seem to mind when he bleeds all on her, getting her leg soak-stained with read while she practically carries the hefty weight from the elevator to the apartment. She doens't so much as bother to close the door, because.. Hello! Priorities! With a hand at Seamus' chest, used to steady him, Harmony looks like she very well could start crying out her green eyes for the wounded Irishman. "Shot?!" her voice drops down to a breathy surprised gasp, pulling her head back to get a look at his covered wound. "What the hell were you doing to get shot?! Nevermind.. just.. just get—" She looks around for the quickest place drop him, the nearest bathroom.

Jason's room it is. Sorry.. it is closest. Staggering with him to knock open the door to the master bedroom, she drags Seamus' slightly sagging form in to deposit him on the bed. "Dear god.. Seamus, hold on!" Quickly, she makes her way back out into the main area, all panty clad and covered with sticky blood. It is yet another surprise to her to come face to face with Jason.. toting a gun. This must look as bad to him as it does to her. What exactly is the girl doing half naked and covered in blood in the apartment? To Harmony..

"Jason?!" she blinks, "You didn't!" her green eyes drop to the piece he is packing, her expression accusing and appalled, her jaw dropping open in disbelief. "Did you shoot him?! What the hell is going on here?!"

Seamus leaves red handprints on the fancy decor of Jason's expensive flat as he's hauled off to the bathroom, leaning reluctantly on the near-naked blonde. He clop-clomps his way in, boots heavy and echoing on the marble floor, though he does his best to steer around the rugs. He's not a complete animal.

"Yeah, happens…" Seamus tries to keep his jacket covered, but the wind-breaker doesn't do a good job of soaking up any of it. The fabric is tied tight, acting like a half-useless tourniquet. "Hey hey hey, enough yelling. Got a bit o' a headache, y'know?" As she starts to lay him back, he puts a hand down, and collapses slowly back on the bed. The irishman blinks slowly, his hair plastered to his forehead as he takes quick, shallow breaths. He even misses the pleasant sight of her darting out of the room, too focused on keeping the room from fading out.

When the girl cries out, though, he lifts his head up urgently, and starts to level himself up to as sitting position. "Harmony?? You alright?"
Jason hadn't meant to pull the gun out from behind the folds of his jacket, but the anxiety in the air forced his hand. "What!?" he says to the half-naked blond, hushed as he possibly can and still suspecting Syndicate henchmen in the area. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Between rushed whispers he holsters the gun in his belt and waves Harmony over. And quickly trying to reach out and grab hold of her bloodied body, he continues to speak, saying, "Why are you covered in blood - and naked?" A pair of shifty green eyes roll across the living room as Jason leans past the edge of a wall. He withdraws after taking a glance around the empty main room and forces his back against the foyer.

Always keep your back to a wall - basic military protocol.

Before he can even give Harmony the chance to respond to his question - why bloody and naked - he gives a preemptive hush and reaches out past the wall cover in order to grab and physically pull her over to him.

"Pwuuusth!!" he hisses. " Stay low. Get behind me and head for the stairwell." His hand lingers by the belt, hovering above the butt of his gun. "Find someplace safe and I'll conta - - -" Rustling and voices coming from the bedroom, HIS bedroom, set him off again. His fingers snake around the gun and tug on it ever so gently, coaxing it from his belt line like a swami would a cobra from its basket.

"Shit," he says to Harmony, picking up traces of her name being called out. "They know who you are."

Okay… She has no idea what is going on at this point. Why in the hell does this stuff just keep happening to her?! She wasn't even doing anything! Shit just keep piling on, as if she is just some kind of shitty situation magnet. She can't even relax without encoring trouble. On one hand, she has Seamus, possibly bleeding to death in the other room. On the other hand, she has Jason going all military criminal with the gun. After she convinces herself that Jason is probably not the one who shot Seamus, her next problem comes with actually trying to keep them from killing one another.

"Seamus?" she calls back over her shoulder when Jason actually grabs her, stumbling her bare feet across the marble floor, bumping into the gun toting thug. "Jason.. it's not— God.. this is so fucked up.." she mutters, using her body to block him as best she can, just in case gunfire breaks out. "It's not who you think it is. Move! He needs help!" the blonde girl pushes past him, to get back into the bedroom where Seamus lies, "Jason.. he's been shot, I need help! Should we call an ambulance or something?"

She reaches for Seamus' makeshift tourniquet, untying the jacket to get a look at the wound, "Oh my god.. It's pretty bad.."

When Harmony makes it back to the bedroom, Seamus is halfway to his feet, reaching back to ease a gun out of the back of his pants. Jesus, is everyone armed around here? He looks up as she enters, and the glaze over his eyes is gone for sharp-edged worry, fear, and a little anger.

When she tugs at his tourniquet though, it's forgotten for a sharp shot of pain and he falls back onto the bed again. "Gah! Careful!" he cries out, trying to pull his wound up above his heart. "Look just…I need the bullet out ASAP. And then I need…" His eyes open, looking down at Harmony, the fear making its way back in, "I need you to cauterize the wound, Harm. I can't go to the hospital, okay? Please, I need you to help me with this." His eyes flick up to the bedroom door, hoping beyond hope that whoever else is out there is friendly.

"Seamus?" he asks reluctantly. "Who is Seamus?"

But what Jason should have been asking, if not screaming, was - Who is Seamus and WHY is his blood soaking up my 400 thread count sheets like a $1.25 roll of paper napkins? Still, even in in his silence, Jason's look of utter shock and horror, not at the sight of a bleeding man, but at the bloody smears all over his room, spoke volumes.

The gun, now held neatly behind his back, quietly slips away - hiding in the black folds of his leather jacket. "This won't do," Jason says with a frown. An accusing finger points at Seamus and waggles with every word. "Who. What. When. Where. How. And Why did you bring into MY house?"

Making a dramatic turn for the living room, he steps into the vacant and walks toward the door. "Hold on a second," he shouts, just before he peeks around the wall and looks up at the threshold, searching for a sign that may say 'Emergency Room' on it.

"Nope. I don't see one." The front door closes behind him and he makes his way back into his bedroom - the one covered in blood. "There's no fucking sign on my front door that says Bed, Breakfast and Hospital! So why the FUCK is there a grown man bleeding on my eight-hundred dollar linens?"

Seamus says something about refusing to leave his house, about not going to a hospital, about pulling a bullet out of his body right now, and thusly continuing to bleed all over Jason's house. WTF!?

Dumfounded he turns to Harmony and gives her a look of moldering rage and incomprehensible confusion. "I - I - I might have made a mistake using Craigslist to search for roommates."

Jason almost chokes and vomits on his anger. But he manages to pull out a few deep breaths and walk back out into the living room. "I'm making a drink. Until I finish it… don't … don't say anything."

And with that he heads to the bar tucked against the back wall near the floor to ceiling windows.

So we have two guns now. One of them coming from the large Irishman bleeding in the bedroom, while the other comes from an angry criminal who does have a righteous reason to be mad. In her defense, this all happened so fast, and it isn't a situation to where she could simply remain calm. Well.. things start to happen when Harmony begins to freak out, and it starts with her sweating a little. The glistening perspiration across her forehead is an indication of things to come. On one hand, she has Seamus, injured and bleeding, and speaking to her about needing the bullet removed, and the wound cauterized. And then there is Jason..

"What? Wait.. I.. Jason.." there is an apologetic tone in her voice, as bloody hands rise to reach out towards him. "This just happened, like.. ten seconds before you walked in! He was downstairs… He called.. I didn't know he was— Son of a bitch!" the blonde girl curses, the frown on her face showing her frustration, her skin taking on a glowing corona, starting to radiate light in her highly excited emotional state.

"Just.. settle down, okay? Everyone just settle down! I can't think straight.." a hand covers her eyes, rubbing the front of her face as she tries her damndest to clear her mind. Eventually, she seems to get it together. Okay.. she knows what she needs to do. "Okay.. Jason? I hate to ask you this, but I need for you to remove the bullet."

As Jason comes in, Seamus raises a hand with a pained and sheepish and sheepish smile. He's not as well-dressed as the ex-military man (judging by the haircut), and he looks like he'd just been having a cuddle-fest with a nailgun that has problems with premature ejaculation. "Hey, name's Seamus," he says in a strained Irish brogue, "Y'must be th' famous landlord. Sorry 'bout your sheets, I'll pay t' have 'em replaced."

As the man spins around, looking up and about, Seamus blinks in confusion…though he stifles a laugh at the "Bed, Breakfast and Hospital" joke. That's a good one, he'll have to remember that. If he lives through this.

When Jason stalks out, quivering with anger, and Harmony starts to freak out, Seamus reaches out to take hold of her upper arm, a bit tighter than he'd intended. "Maybe I should come back later," he says, his hand on her arm shaking a little. "Just…just calm down. Help me over to the bathtub. Clean water is…it'll help." At Harmony's request, Seamus looks up to the bedroom door. Him? Removing the bullet? This won't be good.

A Manhattan is two ounces of bourbon, a shot of sweet vermouth, a dash of angostura bitters, an orange twist and a maraschino cherry - - stirred, not shaken. It's as delicious a drink as it is ironic, and recently Jason had taken to calling them Atomic Bombs. But as he stood at the bar, fishing for ingredients, all he could find was Jack Daniels.

He pours a glass and pretends it's a Manhattan - he pretends he's somewhere else, living on the penthouse floor of a suite overlooking a city that hasn't been blown to hell and back, enjoying his time alone, and in sanitary conditions.

Closing his eyes, his almost lets slip the words "Rome, Hong Kong, Dubai," but the taste of warm whiskey burning the back of his throat rouses him from his daydreaming - leaving behind a sneer aggravated by the sound of Harmony's voice.

Neither hers nor Seamus' words give Jason any peace. And try as best as he can to ignore them, to force them to bottom - no, OUT - of his mind, he can still hear them struggling in the bedroom, messing his custom-made memory foam body fit mattress, wrinkling his davenport covers, and as impossible as it sounds, he swears we can hear the screams of each and every pillowcase thread as bodily fluids penetrate their silken barriers and permeate the downy centers of his cushions to their very cores.

Warm whiskey or not, Jason gulps down the contents of his glass with a savage quickness. "Haaaaaaaaaaaaergh!!!" he coughs, slamming the table hard in the aftermath of his drinking. "We have to get something straight here," he barks. "One - YOU fucked up Harmony."

Meandering back into his room, at a snail's pace, he shows up just in time to rebuke Seamus. "And YOU - you're already pretty fucked." Sliding off his expensive coat, and rolling up his expensive sleeves, he walks over to the bleeder and scoops his arm under Seamus and around his back. "Oh, and you'll be worse off if you don't pay the bill I'm going to send you for services rendered, properties destroyed, and emotional damage."

Jason shifts his weight so that he can better support Seamus. "But I'm going to need those answers. What happened to you. Who did this to you. Where and Why did you come here? The Hows and Whens I can figure out just from looking at you ooze all over my fucking carpet."

"He's a friend." The words leave Harmony's lips, a offer of an explanation, seasoned with her own degree of anger. "A friend of mine, that just happens to need help. And we will get something straight. This isn't my fault. I didn't shoot him, but he did come to me for help." She positively glows when she is mad. It is probably the darndest thing. Most might have this little vein that pushes out against their head, but Harmony? She literally glows. It is just visible light for now, no real heat to it, though that is within her spectrum of power so.. her getting even more upset might not be a good thing. "So don't try to take this out on me." She even raises a finger to point at Jason. This could be potentially dangerous, considering the radioactive energies that are prone to fly from her body upon command. Nothing comes blasting from her.. this time. And it take's Seamus laying his hand upon her arm, for her expression to soften and look over at him.

"It's.. it's gonna be alright, okay? I've got a bath already drawn, in my bathroom. I planned to use it myself before you called, but this takes priority I think." The half naked blonde girl tries to force a smile while she assists Jason in supporting the large Irishman and pull him towards the bathroom. "Here.." she says with a hint of care in her voice, reaching to help squirm Seamus out of his shirt. It is a pretty practiced gesture, given Harmony's colorful past with guys, this one in particular. "What did happen? Did you blow something else up? You weren't shot by the police were you?" At this point, the girl does begin to worry, tossing Jason a look for a second, probably sharing in his concern. "Were you followed? And don't worry about Jason.. it'll pass. And I'm sure in his line of work, he'll come across a similar problem, in which he would absolutly love my assistance and cooperation just as much as much, right?" She tosses him a forced look of false sweetness.

"No, it's not her fault," Seamus says, grunting as Jason hauls him upright, and he slings one heavy arm around Jason's broad shoulders, trying to get himself up. His other hand reaches out for Harmony, palm out, trying to calm her before she goes supercritical. "It's not y' fault, Harm. Dun' be puttin' any sure sin on her, arright?"

As he's lifted to his feet, Seamus gives a grunting whimper as he tries to get his feet under him again, the bloody one turning a little as he puts his weight on it. "Y'can bet, I'll be in y'r debt, mate," he mutters to Jason as they haul him towards the bathroom. "No no, wasn't th' police. Get me t' the bathroom, an' I'll tell y' there, when I c'n…c'n put two thoughts t'gether."

Jason squints while Harmony shoots off at the mouth. "My line of work?" he says with a certain measure of venom to his tone. "I don't work. And if I did - whatever it is that I do, or do not do - it isn't worth mentioning. Got it?"

Jason had encountered Harmony in Battery Park a while ago, and as fate would have it the same girl he sold 'herbal medicines' to just happened to answer his ad for a roommate. The odds seemed positively suspicious, but now his doubts and paranoia have proven to be the gospel truth. What do they say about these things: never lend friends money and never play house with pot-smoking half-naked blonds covered in other guys' blood. Amen to that, Geezus flip'n cripes!

"Out of the kindness of my heart I agree to room with a glow-in-the-dark Frea- - - err, Mutan - - err… EVOLVED. And this is the thanks I get trying to bridge the gap between normal people with good sense and clean sheets, and everyone else running around like lunatics in their underwear causing riots and blowing up New York City blocks."

Jason goes on for a while about how he just wants things to returns to normal, or at least a balance, a calm equilibrium of tranquility and bloodless-comforters. But as he walks Seamus out of his room, into the hall, and toward Harmony's tub filled with steaming water, he's suddenly brought back down to earth and remembers the time tested adage - ice first, heat later.

"Ugh, this might be a bad idea. I'm pretty sure he'll bleed out if we introduce that wound to warm water. We'll need to run the bath cold and fill it with as much ice as we can find." Forcing a pause, and a standstill, he looks around the room and then toward the door. "If we don't have any ice in the freezer, knock on some doors and see what you can collect. That is, if your bright red nose can't conjure up a winter miracle."

Seamus' incoherent ramblings, on the other hand, make Jason think the Irishman might be going into shock - rather than just being confoundedly Irish. He can't understand a word he's saying. "Yes, yes," he agrees with Seamus to keep him conscious, repating the words he/thinks/ Seamus is saying to him. "We'll 'put two toads to get her' - hell, even three toads. But first we gotta get you on ice and then I gotta find some line to stitch up that cut."

Forgive Jason and his 'dickatude'. That is what Harmony decided to do when she took up the position as his flat mate. She can put up with quite a bit, so there is generally no danger of her unleashing a particle beam in Jason's direct trajectory. At least not without proper prompting. She has been tempted once to twice, believe it or not, though she has never really acted on the impulse. "Are you finished?" She comments to his tirade about how he is some 'put upon' person of such great moral standing. She knew the gays were snarky, but geez..

"We don't have time to fill anything with ice." the girl leaves Seamus in Jason's 'capable hands' as she quickly dashes off to the kitchen, opening up the cabinet. Jason might not have been able to find the stronger alcohol, but Harmony knows exactly where she put it. She returns with a bottle of tequila and a leather belt. "That bullet has got to come out.." Unscrewing the cap to the liquor, she gives Seamus' wound a pretty healthy pour of the alcohol, before handing it, and the belt over to him. "You might wanna prepare, and bite down on this. I'm gonna have to go in there." The girl steels herself, pursing her lips and wriggling her fingers in preparation for what she is gonna have to do.

"Jason, if you could just get me some towels or something.."

Seamus grimaces as they get into the bathroom at Jason's suggestion. Oh fuck, an ice bath… He's not arguing, however, though he does look at Jason like he's going crazy when he 'repeats' Seamus' words. "Yer a lifesaver, mate," he mutters, looking like right about now would be a good time to sit down. Thank the merciful Lord Seamus is a big guy, so he has a lot more blood in him than most.

"Look, can…can we focus on gettin' th' bullet out, maybe, p'rhaps?" Seamus looks between the two arguing flatmates, and gives his eyes a healthy roll. Finding one edge of the tub, he sits on the white linoleum, clutching at his leg again, trying to keep the bleeding down while they work out exactly who's in charge of his treatment, here. Taking the belt from Harmony, he nods and puts it between his teeth. "Iff y dum wamma do ig, juff gib be da mife."

"Fine," Jason says half-heartedly in response to Harmony's counter-commands. Once he helps Seamus to the bathroom, he lowers him down and lets the curious blond play with his life like a game of high-stakes Operation. "I'll get some towels."

Stepping into Harmony's room and rummaging around in /her/ closets, he balls up a collection of old hamper items - towels, underwear, tshirts and so on, and brings them back into the bathroom, where he dumps them on the floor. "Oh and feel free to dig right into his wounds. If the bullet's hit bone, it'll be a great idea plucking it out - that way his bone marrow can poison his blood stream and kill him. Or better yet, if it's hit a major artery or nerve, and it's current position is the only thing keeping the blood flow in place.

Jason shakes the wet from his hands, letting red sprinkles freckle the bathroom floor. "But if he dies, it might make it little harder for me to collect the money that's due- no way I can just walk this shit to a dry cleaner. "

"Ah fuck me!" - he notices the blood stains soaking into his outfit - "this just keeps getting better and better. Honestly, did we start subleasing to Quentin Tarantino? Tell me I'm on candid camera. It looks an entire freshman class just blossom into womanhood all at once and left a trail of adolescence running from my bed to your bathroom."

"But that's not the important issue here is it? We have guests to maim." Taking a another breath, Jason fight to maintain composure and suggest that they could, "Turn Seamus over, maybe."

"If you could melt the melt and let it drop out, it would cauterize the wound - it'd be painful as fuck - but the risk of infection would decrease and it'd pretty much patch itself up. I mean, it's either that or… you just keep poking around in there."

The look on Harmony's face as Jason goes off on his big rant is nothing short of irritated. Does it look like she has a knife? Or some other utensil that she plans on using to dig around in Seamus' wound to get the bullet out? No. She is good for quite a few things, and one of just so happens to be.. getting things hot. Whether that be guys or bullets, she has these things down to a fine degree of control. Still, she lets Jason go on and on, and for a second it looks like she wants to pick up Seamus' gun and shoot him. "Thanks for the suggestion. It'd be helpful if I wasn't already gonna do that."

She takes the towels he brought, not really questioning or caring where they come from, and uses them to set down a cover to soak up further leaking that might occur. An apologetic look of sympathy is given to the large Irishman, and a hand is lifted to place a comforting stroke down his jawline. "This is going to hurt pretty bad, Seamus, and I'm sorry. I'm gonna have to get that out of there, and seal the wound in one stroke. I'll try not to do any permanent damage.." This is something Harmony hasn't done before, but in theory is should work just fine. Moving Seamus' leg in the proper position for the bullet to drip out, she places her palm over the hole and takes a deep breath which pushes out her chest, ending in a long, slow exhale.

She has put some research into this radiation stuff recently, and is starting to understand the differences between the various types, and their uses. In this instance, heat from the movement of charged particles within atoms is converted to electromagnetic radiation, creating thermal radiation. In other words, she makes it rather hot, really quickly. There is a cherry orange glow about her hand, followed by the quick sizzling of flesh which serves to seal the open parts of the wound within the hole, and flash melt the bullet contained within. She doesn't leave her hand there for too long, as not to make things worse, but Seamus will no doubt always have Harmony's handprint branded into him from this point on.

Jerking her hand away, still glowing red hot, she leaves the now liquefied bullet to trickle out of the cauterized hole in Seamus' leg, the girl shaking her hand several times to disperse the radiation harmlessly away from her cells.

Seamus looks to Harmony as Jason scolds them from the other room, pulling the belt from between his teeth and saying in an undertone, "Right ray of helpful sunshine, isn't he?" He looks down at his leg, pulling the fabric away for just a moment to inspect it, before holding it tight over his wound again.

Jason gets a pale smirk as he shakes out his hands with those optimistic comments. "Just a flesh wound, I c'n tell y' that much, at least. Soon as it's out, I can bandage up and go pass out somewhere f'r a while. And…honestly?" Seamus barks a laugh for Jason's colorful simile. "Y' went there? I'm impressed, mate."

There's a look of abject horror on Seamus' face when Jason suggests melting the bullet out, and moreso as Harmony starts to go along with it. He turns that look right to Harmony, face turned into her hand, his eyes wide. "No offense to but, molten metal sticking to my insides isn't…" But he's already being moved, and Seamus is nothing is he isn't game for new ideas. Sticking his belt between his teeth again, he whimpers worriedly.

The Irishman lays back against the linoleum, the cool whiteness soothing for a moment. Then the heat starts to set in. He wraps a hand tight around the fabric of his jacket, gripping it. He lets out groans, body tightening and seizing, as the pain amplifies up until where he's crying out loudly around the belt. His whole body goes taught as a bowstring, jerking up against Harmony's hand as the bathroom echoes with agony. Even when she pulls her hand away, he's still crying out, mind assaulted with pain that's not dissipating any time soon.

Jason hides behind the door frame when Harmony gets ready to radiate Seamus' bullet. Every so often he peeks around the corner to spy the goings on inside, always making sure to keep his junk well-hidden behind the wall. As it was in Harmony's power to shrivel men's balls and his best interest to keep them as far away from her spermatozoa-genocidal-madness as possible.

"God be with you, you unlucky Irish Bastard." Jason mouths the words silently and blinks, stepping into the bathroom once the deed is done, and Irishman's screams quiet to mere whimpers and then silence.

Leaning over Seamus, Jason examines the point of cauterization and sighs a breathy exhale of relief. "Finally, it's over," he says to Harmony. "He's stopping bleeding all over the house."

As things settle down, leaving Seamus a whimpering mass of muscle and bone, Harmony sighs, deciding to let him push through his pain before she makes any motions to move Seamus to the bed. She is indeed pretty sorry about having to do that to him, though it was either that, or she would stand there and argue with Jason about what to do, and by that time. Seamus would probably have bled to death. This has been a hell of a night for her, and she is going to relax, damnit. With a sigh, she makes her way over to the bathtub, where her hot water sits waiting for a body to get into it. "You can go, now. I'll take care of him from here. Thanks." she remarks cooly to Jason, as she steps behind the curtain of the tub, pulling it close to have just her silhouette behind it. She removes what little clothing she has behind there, and tosses it over the curtain. She's taking her bath, no matter who is in the room. Fuck you both.

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