Oh my god. [ He is sizing Zemo up, looking him over for various wounds. ] We need to get you inside.
[ He slings the man's arm over his shoulder, using the metal arm to hold most of Zemo's weight, and manages to get them across the threshold without anyone questioning whether Zemo was being harmed or simply drunk.
Once they're inside, he deposits Zemo on the sofa as gently as he can, and darts to the bedroom to fetch his emergency kit. Luckily, he keeps the thing stocked due to his own bad habits, and is back to Zemo's side in record time, kneeling next to him and grasping the hem of his shirt. ]
[He's a bit startled at first when there's a body against his, an arm around him like that. He must be quite a sight.]
Do I look so awful, James? [He manages to tease. If he stays awake, he'll-- likely be fine. It would be quite a shame to die in Bucky's home and leave him quite a hassle to clean up.
There's a wince when he hits the sofa though, lips pursing in a pained expression as he sits and adjusts. The purple is dyed dark with his blood, sticking uncomfortably to the wound when Bucky goes to tug it up. He doesn't complain though -- and the wound underneath looks more like that from a knife than a bullet, at least.
No shrapnel to dig out. That's never a fun experience.
Although who knows if this will be a particularly fun one either. He could think of more pleasant ways to spend his evenings still...]
I will be fine with some stitches, I believe... And a drink. [Should he? Probably not, but something strong sounds rather appealing at the moment.]
[ He gets up to fetch a towel and some ice water, offering the glass to Zemo while steadying the bottom so it doesn't spill. He eases the towel between Zemo's body and the sofa (not that he cares much about the upholstery but needs must), puts on a pair of gloves and grabs some antiseptic. ]
Did you run chest first into a thresher? [ He can be delicate with the antiseptic, but it's still going to sting like a bitch. Bucky murmurs an apology when it gets too bad, but manages to get the wound cleaned well enough to prep it for stitches. ] I'm trying to decide if I want to know what really happened.
[The taunt sounds weak on his own lips as he watches him steadily. He isn't terribly... worried, now. At least he is confident Bucky will try to save his life, and if he dies? Ah, well. There have been worst ways to go he's faced in his life.
Not that he intends to put Bucky in any such position. He sips the water, and he grits his teeth against the antiseptic going to the wound. It burns deep, radiates pain in ways that make his breath catch for a moment.]
Likely, you would rather be ignorant. Or at least better off.
con crunch kicked my ass, but Dragon Con here i come
[ He ignores the attempt at needling him, since all of his focus is going into cleaning and dressing the wound.
When he gets the needle threaded: ] This will go easier if you talk while I'm closing you up.
[ Bucky leans in, hoping his tactical training for field medicine still holds, and begins the first stitch. He knows it's going to feel shitty for a while, but once he gets this thing closed up, Zemo will be on the mend. ]
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[ He slings the man's arm over his shoulder, using the metal arm to hold most of Zemo's weight, and manages to get them across the threshold without anyone questioning whether Zemo was being harmed or simply drunk.
Once they're inside, he deposits Zemo on the sofa as gently as he can, and darts to the bedroom to fetch his emergency kit. Luckily, he keeps the thing stocked due to his own bad habits, and is back to Zemo's side in record time, kneeling next to him and grasping the hem of his shirt. ]
Alright, lemme see.
no subject
Do I look so awful, James? [He manages to tease. If he stays awake, he'll-- likely be fine. It would be quite a shame to die in Bucky's home and leave him quite a hassle to clean up.
There's a wince when he hits the sofa though, lips pursing in a pained expression as he sits and adjusts. The purple is dyed dark with his blood, sticking uncomfortably to the wound when Bucky goes to tug it up. He doesn't complain though -- and the wound underneath looks more like that from a knife than a bullet, at least.
No shrapnel to dig out. That's never a fun experience.
Although who knows if this will be a particularly fun one either. He could think of more pleasant ways to spend his evenings still...]
I will be fine with some stitches, I believe... And a drink. [Should he? Probably not, but something strong sounds rather appealing at the moment.]
no subject
[ He gets up to fetch a towel and some ice water, offering the glass to Zemo while steadying the bottom so it doesn't spill. He eases the towel between Zemo's body and the sofa (not that he cares much about the upholstery but needs must), puts on a pair of gloves and grabs some antiseptic. ]
Did you run chest first into a thresher? [ He can be delicate with the antiseptic, but it's still going to sting like a bitch. Bucky murmurs an apology when it gets too bad, but manages to get the wound cleaned well enough to prep it for stitches. ] I'm trying to decide if I want to know what really happened.
no subject
[The taunt sounds weak on his own lips as he watches him steadily. He isn't terribly... worried, now. At least he is confident Bucky will try to save his life, and if he dies? Ah, well. There have been worst ways to go he's faced in his life.
Not that he intends to put Bucky in any such position. He sips the water, and he grits his teeth against the antiseptic going to the wound. It burns deep, radiates pain in ways that make his breath catch for a moment.]
Likely, you would rather be ignorant. Or at least better off.
con crunch kicked my ass, but Dragon Con here i come
When he gets the needle threaded: ] This will go easier if you talk while I'm closing you up.
[ Bucky leans in, hoping his tactical training for field medicine still holds, and begins the first stitch. He knows it's going to feel shitty for a while, but once he gets this thing closed up, Zemo will be on the mend. ]