"It's not getting it out I'm worried about," She rasped sickly as she looked down at the tweezers that she'd caught. Though she was sure he was familiar with pain -- even imagining how much he'd be in while she shoved a pair of metallic objects into him to pull a bullet out sent shivers down her spine and made her fur stand on the back of her neck. n
Sonic R|P|
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"Then what is it exactly you're getting worried about?" Cyrus questioned, "I've just taken some painkillers so I won't feel a thing." That was a lie, Cyrus already new how little the painkillers did to help with pain anymore. His body was used to the variouspills and medications he would take.
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"I don't think I can do it all the same," she whimpered, looking down at her trembling hands that held the tweezer.
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Cyrus looked at her in the eyes, "You can't or you won't?" He didn't mean to sound as rude he did, but he felt the moral in the room was considerably low.
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bump
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(Sorry. Yesterday was the last day of my school play, and today’s been a busy day as well. I’ll reply when I can)
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Okay, take your time.
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Mistique put a hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, patches of black beginning to split her grey scales. She tried to resist again, “I-If the pain medicine is working, can’t you d-do it, then...?”
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Cyrus cocked a brow, "I'm wounded and more-or-less drugged," noting Mistique's change in scale color, "That doesn't seem to good. "
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She looked down at the tweezers in her hand and swallowed. “Okay,” She rasped weakly, eyes dilating as she looked up at him again. She stepped forward and knelt in front of him as she clenched her teeth together in an attempt to ignore the coppery smell of blood and to brace herself in grabbing the bullet at the same time.
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Cyrus did his best to stay unfazed, something he thought he was good at. However, this task was the only time he didn't hold back emotion, so he frowned. The scars along his body showed that he botched it in his own several times.
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Mistique felt her breath shudder in her frame as she looked at the wound. She tried not to cry at the mere sight of it and instead willed her hands to stop shaking so she could steadily slide it into the wound. She clenched her jaw, slowly, carefully edging the tweezers into the bullet hole.
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Cyrus made a noise that was audible only for a second. Trying to avoid distracting Mistique he shut his eyes and began to chew on his tongue.
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Mistique shuddered, every inch she pushed feeling like an eternity. The tweezers finally stopped— hitting what she assumed was the bullet — and so she began to work the tweezers to grab it. She tried to restrain her whimpers, although a couple of squeaks escaped beyond her permission.
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"Feel free to yank it out once you've got it for sure," Cyrus spoke, "like a band-aid." He kept to himself that was how he got most of his scars. "Give me a heads up before you do." he added.
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“I-I’ll try,” She rasped weakly and swallowed. Gently, she probed around until she got a good handle on the bullet. She glanced up at him nervously. “I-I’ve got it... brace yourself, ok?”
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Cyrus nodded and inhaled, preparing himself for the movement. "Do it.," he said cautiously.
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Mistique held her breath and quickly pulled.
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Cyrus gave a grunt as he exhaled, "Perfect, well done." He reached under the couch for bandages to wrap his wound. He cleared his throat as he stood up and began to do so.
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Mistique immediately dropped the tool with a shudder and stumbled to a corner, leaning against the wall. “Uuf...” she groaned as she kept her eyes shut tightly.