✰ common vision ☇ private w/ mercury.

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    -`ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʀᴍsᴛʀᴏɴɢ — ♂´-

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    ↝ the medic had spent the remainder of his night scrubbing the stairs of their building. he would have simply awaited the morning for this task, but he worried valiantly about the other renters coming out about the incident to management, or possibly skip this step and arrive directly at their doorstep. the mess about their own flat was still evident, continually soaking into the wooded flooring while wally snored away on the sofa. though, once his two hours of sleep are gathered, it isn't long before he once again has a damped rag within his grasp. blood - it was something the englishman didn't mind in the least. while this could frequently be said of many soldiers within the military, not enough could hold back the contents of their stomachs when greeted with such copious amounts of gore. on the other hand of his generally delicate personality, this was the area of expertise he found himself continually unfazed. - plus, he wished to have it all scoured away from sight before carter was rolling out of bed. the pilot appeared to be one of those unlucky souls who could take but a glimpse of gooey crimson before a disgusted shiver ran up their spine. walter wouldn't be complaining about it; cleaning was a rather large part of his career, after all.


    once the role of housemaid has been filled, wally sits up on his knees to observe the hard work. it may not seem to be much in the eyes of everyone, but the medic had gotten nearly every splatter out of the rickety material. the now dirtied cloth is slung atop his shoulder, a hand readjusting his crooked lenses while he pushes back to full height. despite the gruesome responsibility he held but moments beforehand, wally's stomach forces out a grumble. it'd been an excessively long period since his last ration had been downed, and even longer since he last full meal. the thought of a genuine breakfast spurs him in the direction of the kitchen, yet his steps sputter to a halt. he'd nearly forgotten about carter in his haste - surely, the man would be starved himself. he'd eaten just about two portions yesterday, and still voiced his hunger to the englishman. wally spins lazily on the cusp of his heels, dulled hum lifting under his breath while he makes a sudden beeline for the hallway. down the corridor, the bedroom door is creaked open. in all amusement for the situation, he quite rightly felt like a parent attempting to wake their child before lessons.


    ❛ - good mornin'! ❜ wally beams out, as if the meagre hours he'd gotten were more than enough to sustain his carefree attitude. there's a dampened rasp from the panelled flooring beneath his weight, swift to move across the bedroom and tug open the blinds. it'd been far too dark in the room, positive to lull carter back to sleep if he hadn't. the medic's attention is back on the pilot in question, hands resting on his hips as he begins to speak. ❛ y'a want brekkie, 'r is it too early f'r y'a t' eat? they say it's the most important meal! ❜

    — Much to his distaste, his slumber is disturbed when he heard the familiar voice wake him up. His eyes fluttered open before shutting once more. It was always such an extensive task for Carter to get up and start his day. It wasn't until the light hit his eyelids that he shut them tighter and rolled to his side to open them without the harsh light in his vision. He is cautious with the movement of his arm as he shifts to get comfortable on his side, no interest of getting out of bed ever showing from the pilot. At the question being received about breakfast, he already acknowledged his empty feeling stomach. He was held at a tough decision at the moment, whether to rise from the bed and get breakfast or to hopefully confide in slumber once more. He knew he had a job to do, though.


    "Give me a minute, I can come help." he whispered in a hopeful tone as he rubbed his eyes of anything blurring his vision. He stayed there resting comfortable for a bit before working himself to sit up, and after a yawn and a few tired moments later, his feet swung over to feel the cool wood as he stood up. The tall boy stretched as he only wishes he could still stay in bed at the moment. He fought his own eyelids from falling down as he sheepishly mad his way to the living room with his wrinkled clothing falling so messily along his tall structure. It had taken him an overwhelmingly long time to drag himself from the warm bed to the dimly lit kitchen, which did not help his tired appearance. Something else caught his exhausted view soon after reaching the room.


    His eyes widened more to an awake state when he saw the cleaning that had been done to the floors. He wasn't surprised that Walter had decided to go about cleaning, but it was quite impressive to see how set he was on getting jobs done. "Fine job on the floor," Carter found himself wanting to appreciate the effort put into the task. Carter could barely stand to look at the dried puddles on the floor, no matter whose blood it was, so he was fortunate to have Wally do it.

       

    -`ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʀᴍsᴛʀᴏɴɢ — ♂´-

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    ↝ at carter's sleepy comment on helping him in the kitchen, wally's eyes widen brightly behind the lenses of his glasses. it seems the medic cannot skip along after his companion quick enough, an ever excitable bounce more than obvious within his steps. ❛ - well, we gotta' lot t' choose from! bread, toast, peanut butter, preserves... also tea! ❜ a smile tugs itself across his lips, snort of amusement at his own statement sounding quietly through his nostrils. as he speaks about the products, he's tossing them each out atop the counter. it was always best to keep it simple in the morning anyhow - it didn't seem as if the pilot was willing to fry up some pancakes, more so catch them aflame as he snoozed on his feet. a frying pan is set on the range, the englishman able to light the burner in one simple swoop of motion. his brows shoot themselves upwards at the sudden achievement, head tilted in a show of curiosity. ❛ - huh. better than the one at home... ❜


    the medic's gaze lifts when carter begins to speak once again, a beam of pride displaying across the other's rosy face. ❛ - daw, ta! ❜ a delicate elbow is tossed out, catching playfully against his companion's ribs. a wink is offered to accompany the action, typical giggle echoing out along with it. ❛ got y'er mess in the staircase, too! y'er right lucky i'm as experienced as i am! ❜ though he was clearly making a joke, it would most likely sound off without some sort of explanation for it, yet one never comes as wally's attention is focused on carefully slicing cuts of bread and setting them within his previously fetched frying pan. notwithstanding his apparent disdain for fully legitimate meals, walter's movements about the kitchen seemed quite natural. at the thought, he pipes up about something. ❛ - used t' cook for duncan all the time. my family, too! ❜ while being the youngest of four children, responsibility was never lost on the englishman. he'd been cooking for as long as he could possibly remember, cleaning his own laundry and folding other's own at a tender age, even picking up after the messes his elder sister's had a habit of making. from this clarification alone, it wasn't a difficult assumption to guess where the man had developed his paternal personality traits from.


    nearly on cue with that fact, there's a tightening guilt for not allowing carter to do anything for their breakfast as he'd promised just minutes beforehand. ❛ - here! ❜ wally plucks two warmed pieces of toast from his pan, carefully set onto one of the nearby plates he'd pulled from the pantry. ❛ - those 're y'ers, mister dixon! go on ahead an' put on what y'a want! ❜ there's a languid gesture as he ducks from the range and retrieves a dulled butter knife to put within his companion's solely free hand. the medic pushes to his tiptoes, poking an index finger to carter's nose in a childish undertaking. ❛ - careful please! ❜

    — He stared at the decisions tossed to him with a thoughtful look. He'd take any of this, including possibly a combination. His eyes wandered until he heard the flickering beside Walter and watched his actions as he threw bread upon the pan. He offers a smile when he feels the contact and listens to him as he spoke. A part of him wished he would've waited instead so Walter didn't have to do it all alone, but it was in the past now. His weight began to lean on the counter as he listened, further impressed to hear he had even gotten the mess on the flight outside the door. He felt blood rush to his cheeks in embarrassment at just the memory of him storming out of the room like a child and leaving a mess as he did so. He wished he didn't do that. He had wished a lot of his behavior would change lately. Carter had recently found himself not as useful as he used to be. There was no mechanical damage for him to fix, there were no missions that needed a pilot, and there was many jobs he could barely complete due to his arm. He shook his head quickly to catch reality once more when he heard the comment on cooking.


    When he heard the name that had been previously spoken, a brow raised as he heard Wally speak. He didn't seem melancholy, so Carter kept his mouth shut. Wally was so strong when it kept to keeping optimism. Carter was pessimistic and never contributed well to a conversation, yet Walter always had the light in him to show his excitement to everyone. He had a contagious smile and a laugh made Carter feel better, whether it was distracting him from the pains that shot through his arm or his wandering storm of thought that weren't often the most positive. He grew less cold with every action of joy brought by the medic. There was no doubt in his mind that Wally had his own moments of negative though, and he'd even experienced him go through it sometimes, but Carter knew he could never smile as much as Wally did. It meant a quite a lot to the pilot that he had someone like Wally to brighten up the moment. He became used to it by now. How many days they've known each other didn't matter. Spending almost every waking moment with him made it felt like they've known each other for a long time. It'd feel unnatural if they were to split within the future. But until that time, he'd look over with a curious glance as the two slices reached his plate and soon felt metal in his hand.


    The warmth in his cheeks sky-rocketed when he felt the playful gesture and saw Wally's smile as he did so. His lips curled up as he shook his head, facing upon the bread as he grabs whatever spread is closest without care and set it in front of him. He grabbed it on his side and held it tight on the counter as his index finger and thumb unscrewed the lid and popped it off to its side. Grabbing the knife once more, he scooped up a decent amount and smothered the toast with the spread, cautious as to keep the plate from moving across the counter. "Thank you," he mumbled through his smile he attempted his best to keep from Walter's view as he stacked one slice over the other with success. His eyes turned to the container he opened and bit his lip as he questioned if he could close it, and after a moment, decided to ask a favor. "Do y'a mind closin' that for me?" he questioned after turning to face the boy, knowing Walter would for sure help him. This assurance let him roll his shoulders before picking up his plate and finding a seat to eat. He decided on his way to the table that he didn't want to start his day in the uncomfortable rickety chairs, so his feet strode towards the couch. His back fell into the cushions of the sofa before he set down his plate carefully on the arm rest to readjust his arms into a comfortable position. The plate was now back on his lap when he picked up the breakfast and took a bite. He was already feeling better about his morning. As he grew lost in thoughts, questions, and ideas, he piped up "How are we gonna get into the pilot's office?" he was curious to see if Wally had any idea, for he was more knowledgeable on what they were running into.

    -`ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʀᴍsᴛʀᴏɴɢ — ♂´-

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    ↝ ❛ - 'course not! ❜ wally chirps quickly in response, hands working to twist the container's lid back into its secured place while his eyes busily trail carter. his brows quirk in bemusement as the pilot seats himself on the nearby sofa, cheeks blistered in that rosy shade they always managed to keep about when his companion was seemingly anywhere near him. with a softened giggle aimed towards nobody but himself, the medic's attention is once again set on making his own portion of breakfast. he was lucky enough to have broken his stare just before the fresh toast was given a chance to burn, the range clicked off as he carefully dumps the frying pan's contents onto the remaining plate. as he lathers the two slices in an obnoxious amount of peach preserve, a beeline is made instead for the kitchen table. wally would have taking the cushion besides his friend, had food not been involved. he was one who liked to stray far from the idea of being messy, possibly afraid he could attract mice or other rodents who wished to escape the german cold with a simple crumb drop. he's sure to face carter's general direction at the least, sitting rather primly with delicately crossed legs and elbows resting off the tabletop.


    when the other speaks up about the mission that'd been mentioned in passing the prior night, walter appears genuinely taken aback. he hadn't been expecting carter to remember much of it at the time, nor bring it up so early in their morning routine that was curtly becoming a ritual. there's a sudden aura of pride on the medic's part, excitement for the fact the pilot was beginning to change his habits for the better. he was indeed a positive influence, one who could easily wear down any built up wall of nastiness in a short period. a hand is wiped clean of any possible sticky preserve before disappearing within the confines of his jacket. he begins to lead off the question, actions more than clearly outlining the idea that he was rooting for something. ❛ - good question! i ain't sure, actually... ❜ wally's extremity returns, but now emptied. he's brandishing an officer's pistol, presumably his own for battlefield executions when the need arose, and it's no sooner set out carefully upon the finished wood table. if a trained soldier was to spare the weapon a moment of their time, it was obviously used. half the magazine loaded within it was already missing, and there are ominous speckles of dried crimson marring up the barrel. ❛ - got my pistol, though. thinkin' it'll come in handy? ❜ there's a pause as the medic looks to it, facial features blatantly expressing his comfortableness with the gun itself. the lump forming within his throat is forced down in a swallow, lips twisting sourly as he focuses on carter. ❛ i... ain't very good wit' it. y... y'a would pro'lly be far better, one arm 'r not! ❜ a nervous laugh chases the stuttered statement, wally beyond aware that what he was trying to pull here was identifiable - he truly despised the pistol, and putting it within someone else's grasp besides his own would cause that weight to be removed from his chest entirely. he was a healer, not an executioner; no matter how much the military tried to carve him into that role.


    wally tries desperately to lighten the grim mood he feels he's created, though his hands shake noxiously as a bite of toast is brought to his mouth. when it's quaked out of his grasp, a huffed noise of embarrassment sounds as the medic decides to go about pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose - notwithstanding they hadn't moved a centimetre since they'd been put on but earlier this morning. ❛ - heh, oops! clumsy! how's y'er brekkie treatin' y'a? ❜

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    — His eyes dart directly to the sight of the pistol. He was shocked not only to see it, but be surprised he didn't realize he brandished the weapon in the first place. The metal shined for the dried crimson and possible scratches fade in the light it reflected. He took another bite as he listened to his next few statements. He wasn't fully paying attention, if he was honest. He was still bewildered to see the gun in Walter's grasp, if even for such a small amount. It reminded him of photos where one distinct item was completely out of place, and left you confused and, in this case, concerned. Each moment he took looking at the weapon, more thoughts of possible encounters Wally may have had with using it began to pile up in his throat. He knew it was needed for those who had no chance of survival, and could only wish those experiences weren't being thrown around inside the medic's head. It was far too early in the morning to remember what they both do for a living.


    At the sight of Wally's mishap, his lips uncontrollably curl up at the slightest. He noticed as he pushed up his glasses as he did so and began to link memories from the past to now. He did it often, and Carter thought to himself that it could probably be identified as some type of nervous tick the boy had. The glasses were what kept him attached to the true sight of everything around him, and in an embarrassing moment, he'd guess it'd feel foolish to even have a sliver of his sight not able to be understood, perhaps a feeling of inferiority due to the vast, blurry world he lived in. Or, possibly, Carter was simply overthinking everything. He was often analyzing the little things like speech patterns, small movements, and stares from other people. It was simply comfortable for him to understand the meaning behind actions from others, for most of the time, they won't tell you how they're constantly feeling. Wally was quite helpful when it came to this, though. It was assuring to at least somewhat understand what is going on in the mind of his companion.


    At the question that finally was next in line in his constant thought, he looked down at the toast he had nearly completed already, and with a soft grin still on his face (a feeling he was growing more comfortable with), he replied. "It's just fine, thank you," But just as it always did, he found himself trailing back to the conversation prior, his eyes darting to the gun. He knew he had to be useful this time around. He got a lucky chance to relax when Wally had gone to speak to the surgeon, but now this was his time to prove his worth in the mission. He didn't want the medic to be doing everything for him; he was better than that. "Perhaps once we get in, I could cause a distraction of some sorts," he let the words slip quickly, ideas running through his head. "Could pretend to be someone of importance, or maybe even meddle with an important aircraft," he suggested, his words becoming quieter as he nears the end of his sentence. The pilot didn't realize how much he spoke, but knew that he needed to be contributing to this mission now. Carter and Walter were in this together, and he wouldn't let this mission fail in any way possible.

       

    -`ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʀᴍsᴛʀᴏɴɢ — ♂´-

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    ↝ when carter decidedly comments on the state of his meal first, walter feels a smile outstretching itself across his lips. he couldn't help it, with the pilot clearly able to pick up on his comfortableness in this situation, and was willing to go along with his equally awkward commentary shift. it caused an overtly fuzzy feeling to coil within his stomach, a breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding exhaling through his nostrils in relief. it made the medic feel far more inclined to continue the conversation, not dodge his way around the roughed edges he was hoping to avoid. he fights to keep his gaze from befalling the pistol that still sits before him, knowing it would only cause that stressed mentality to once again freeze him silent. instead, his eyes are locked on carter. the pilot was his anchor in this moment, somewhere for him to turn as the idea of looking anywhere else wasn't as comforting. wally's hands twiddle within the confines of his lap, saddened expression unwillingly returning to his facial features as the softened smile dulls away. ❛ - good! was hopin' y'a liked peach preserve, too. my favourite. tastes sweeter. ❜


    he is well - aware he can no longer tiptoe around the issue at hand, head tilting itself down as is he was a child being scolded by their parent. he never much preferred the idea of putting others within harms way, but if carter was willing to do something for the mission, wally supposes it's best to let him try. though, he wasn't going to allow the pilot to roll over and take this possible beating. ❛ - c - carter... ❜ the medic begins with a huff, bottom lip tugged between his teeth, something they could work away at. it wasn't very long in the muteness between them before a steady dribble of blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, either unknown to the englishman, or more so out of sight out of mind as he picks back up where he left off without bothering to wipe the slicking crimson. it stood out against his pale flesh, making that colourless layer of fear icing him over just that more obvious. ❛ - y'a ain't even know fluent german! i'm... i'm sorry, but i doubt y'a could hold a conversation long enough t' keep y'erself from gettin' taken away! same with an aeroplane - y'a may know 'em, but what the hell are the krauts gonna' do the minute they find y'a messin' wit' one? ❜ wally decidedly leaves the question open ended, knowing fully - well the answer to it would be lingering thickly in the air of their conversation. prisoners were common amongst the axis troops, as were blatantly point - blank executions. either would be possible, and neither would be the outcome they wanted.


    no matter how much is seemed both parties were looking to possibly avoid this suggestion, walter surprisingly tosses it in first. there's a waver within his tone, voice pitched an octave squeakier than it usually was. ❛ - i've got extra mags in my pack. i... no matter what i say, it's still my damn pistol. there ain't gonna' be use of a peaceful distraction, if y'a know what i'm sayin'. ❜ the medic's body language is more than telling, shoulders slumped and lips curled into a deepened frown. ❛ y'er a pilot, aeroplanes 're y'er thing. y'er gonna' know plans on 'em better than i ever will. ❜ a chuckle sounds, airy and forced. a laugh, all the same. ❛ - they won't expect a five foot medic t' come shootin' at 'em, that's f'r sure. ❜

    —He watched the blood trickle down the mouth of Walter, his stomach tying into a knot as he flinched to get himself up. Before he could push himself stand, he paused at his next words. His brows furrowed and his eyes shined with a gloss of concern. Listening through what Walter had to say about his suggestions made his heart wrench. As much as he didn't want to believe it, he was right. His minimal knowledge of the foreign language would prevent him from being of any verbal help, and meddling with their aeroplanes would've been a big risk, but he needed to do something. The way his mood shifted and he lost that bright smile of his, Carter felt his chest horribly ache. Carter didn't want Wally to storm in with the weapon, thinking it was their best bet. There had to be a way. With how this idea was tearing the medic, he wouldn't let it happen.


    His legs shot up straight before making the quickest detour to the kitchen, snatching the closest cloth rag he could find, and soon found himself kneeling before the boy with the rag. "Wally? Are you alright?" His volume is minimal and his expression was smothered with a worry as he slowly reached to catch the trickling liquid and moved the rag up in an attempt to collect the blood, holding it there for a moment before retracting his hand.


    His arm was close to shaking as it fell to the table beside him. He wasn't useless in this mission, was he? He was a strong physical fighter and knew his way around a lot of mechanics, but would that be any help when it came to gathering information? Although his concern for his self worth in the situation was growing, it was more for the sake of Wally. He saw the dismay towards the weapon yet it was there only idea at the moment. He had to show Wally he could not only take care of himself, but protect the medic from any possible danger. Losing either of them was not an option. His thoughts began to spill out from his mind to his mouth, in more of an inside voice than a whisper. His tone was utterly serious. "Listen, Wally. No matter the mags, we can find out somethin'. We can't rely simply on that pistol, an' in case it is ever a last resort," he took a moment to look over the metallic weapon. A sharp breath drew into his lungs. "I know how to use it." His stare fell back onto the medic. Though worry never left his face, the pilot's expression softened. He needed to get off the topic of the weapon. "There's countless ways we can approach this," he paused to take a breath. He often forgot to breathe in situations like this, his voice draining his lungs too quickly for his own good. "Let's sit and figure it out t'gether, aye?" he asked in an attempt to soothe the boy from the tense feeling within him, reminding Wally that he was there beside him, and needed to help the situation in some way. The rag was clenched tightly in his hand as his eyes questioned the other boy. He took a moment to raise his body and sit himself in the nearby chair of the table. He hated moments like this. Both of them had doubt in their minds, and both shared a concern for the other's well being. It was just a matter of finding a compromise that could best assure both of their safety, which can be achieved. He hoped so.

    -`ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʀᴍsᴛʀᴏɴɢ — ♂´-

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    ↝ the metallic tang that coats his taste buds is enough context to realise his lip was bleeding out. he'd made to finally wipe it free of his face out of embarrassment, but carter had just beat him to it. wally's eyes blink wide behind his lenses, not bothering to yank away from the gentle touch. ❛ - carter, i'm an adult... ❜ this comment would seem futile, as he leans forward into the contact to avoid any droplet getting onto the freshly cleaned flooring. he's spent his entire night scrubbing the thing, and he didn't intend to be repeating the effort. ❛ thank y'a. ❜ he mumbles out despite his prior complaint, a hand scratching nervously at the back of his head. it was always an odd feeling to have others do things for him, with the medic being a generally independent fellow when it came to things such as taking care of himself. perhaps he was simply too engrossed in that battlefield persona of his, spending all his time thinking of others and not of his own health. it was often a thing that could have him entranced, far too busy for much else.


    wally's gaze stares carter down, shifting about as he takes the remaining chair as they had yesterday night. it was quite humorous, to be sitting in the same chairs but have their roles swapped for the time being. the pilot was attempting to reassure him, notwithstanding the medic's usual line of optimistic encouragement. perhaps his companion was beginning to take a note or two from his own behaviour. had it been a different occurrence, the englishman definitely would've mustered up a brightened smile for the fact. now, he cannot bring himself to it. this was a serious task, with legitimately serious consequences. one bad plan, one bad step, and either of them could end up as yet another war casualty. of course, this idea is far from exciting wally. - so is the idea of a firefight. he was used to aiming at injured men who were begging for a bullet, not legitimately moving targets. he supposes, if need be, that wouldn't be too big of a shift. his attention snags as carter speaks back up, head shaking as he utters each word. what other hope did they have? no way in hell was walter going to allow carter into a gunfight - no matter what, it was going to be his call. he was the officer here, the high ranked official who had control over the mission, and the pilot wouldn't be stepping up for him with an already injured arm. he'd most likely never been shot before, or perhaps he had simply glossed over the possible scarring. wally had taken a number of bullets, the wounds something he could handle on his own if they weren't severe. ❛ - y'a ain't gotta' be optimistic. y'a an' i both know it's hopeless t' think of another counter in this. y'a got the plan knowledge, i can be a distraction. ❜


    he could always hold the germans off for as long as he could until they became aware of his allegiance. wally would try to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, and even try to keep most - likely future wounds from becoming life threatening. simply speaking, he'd have to be the one to shoot first if the situation was to become rocky. ❛ - trust me on this, alright? it'll be fine. i'll be fine. y'er gonna' be fine. ❜

    ELLIOT CARTER DIXON — He wasn't looking forward to this. He knew he wouldn't argue with the medic, it probably would end in one growing frustrated or just falling back to the same conclusion. That didn't him stop from his facial expression displaying utter reluctance, almost having to hold his breath from trying to counter the plan. His slightly open mouth fell to a close as he looked away, the childish expression of hesitation still on his pink face. It felt cold again. His hand released the tight grip of the rag onto the table before standing back up. His eyes no longer met Wally's. He wasn't going to let anything happen. They were going to be okay. “I'll g'it ready, then.” His words were barely audible, sounding as fragile as when they met, as he walked away quickly to the bathroom and shutting the door quickly behind him (luckily without a slam).


    His back soon touched the door he closed as his eyes fell to close with a sharp intake of breath. It was becoming surreal that he was back to doing life-threatening actions. This mission has almost felt like a break from the fighting, for he hadn't really done anything. Now he had to go straight into an enemy airport and take confidential plans of theirs. He wasn't trained for stuff like this. He was trained to fly and fix any repairs and aim at a target when needed, not this. Carter opened his eyes as he let the light of reality sink into his vision and turned to the mirror. The pilot was a mess. Ever since the incident, he hadn't done much to maintain a kept appearance. His hair was a little bit longer and fell more to the side to his temples. He ran his hand through the greasy strands and dropped the arm back down. His eyes had faint circles below his eyes and his partially scruffy jaw caused his brows to furrow. He hated looking like this. He felt careless and gross and not ready, but there wasn't much he could do now. He turned the handle of the faucet and lowered his head to splash his face with the water, hoping to get any dried dirt or blood that could've been in his pores to come out with the liquid. After rubbing it in, he used the cloth of his sleeve to dry his face before looking back in the mirror. Using his hand that was still wet, he calmed any stray strands of his hair back with the dark locks that fell from his scalp. In no way was he back to his everyday clean look, but it sure was an improvement from his previous state. He bit his lower lip in thought as he looked over his unkempt appearance before opening the door and heading to the bedroom, not bothering to shoot Wally a glance wherever he was. His bottom hit the bed as he pushed his boots closer to him with his feet. After slipping both feet in each shoe, he realized it would take far too long to fasten them in his state. He took off the sling and tossed it beside him while he tied his boots, using his worse arm as a surface to successful make knots on each side. Once that was completed, he put the sling back on and grabbed his coat, realizing he'd have to take the sling off again and ultimately deciding to let the sleeve be unoccupied as his arm sat against his chest. That was all he really needed. It wasn't like he had much on him during these times.


    That left him to dreadfully come back to the main area to find Wally wherever he may be. His head was titled down not to stare directly at the floor below him, but low enough to avoid eye contact as he leaned against the wall near him. He was incredibly nervous about this, and with each moment growing realization of what was happening, he began to feel nauseous. He blinked slowly. Everything would be fine. He tried to repeat the empty words that Wally said. Carter didn't trust him at the moment. No matter how experienced or prepared they could be, it wouldn't stop him from worrying for the sake of the medic. His voice was husky and soft when he spoke “When you're done, we'll be off.”     

    -`ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʀᴍsᴛʀᴏɴɢ — ♂´-

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    ↝ once carter has stood and made his exit from the dining area of the flat, walter feels himself sag tiredly. it was overtly clear the pilot wasn't happy with the choice that'd been made for him, but there was no other way they could go about the task. he couldn't speak german, fiddling about with a plane would get him thrown out in an instant, and neither of them would be getting their hands on an axis uniform any time soon. wally's tenacity for distracting those around him would have to come in handy to the best of his ability, as would his quick draw. while his companion was off in the loo, the medic takes a moment to once again stash the gun away within his coat, returning it to its prior resting place. he didn't rightly want the weapon to still be sitting out in the open whenever he returned, the englishman swallowing back the lump forming within his throat as he pushes up to his feet. already having tugged on and laced his boots but hours beforehand, he instead begins to pace about the small area given to them. pacing allowed him to think better, roll an idea about within his head.


    his attention returns to the present when carter reappears within the room. the expression on his face was blatantly disgruntled, the pilot not even bothering to return whatever eye contact walter offers up. the nonchalant action causes the medic to hang his head in submissive defeat, feeling quite awful that he'd been forced to step up and make the hard decision for the both of them. though he may be able to take a bullet wound or two for a few hours without giving himself proper medical care, that didn't mean he was looking forward to possibly taking an injury. a thumb catches his busted bottom lip, yet another one of the englishman's nervous tics. it would seem he possessed many of them, a way for him to release that pent - up anxiety he feared would equally bring worry to those around him. there's a quickened movement as he nods at carter's words, curtly shuffling from where he stood and off towards the flat's door.


    there's hardly a minute wasted as he awaits carter's presence to grace him, only scurrying along in his companion's larger strides once he's exited first. as they head down the staircase, wally eventually works up the gall to break their streak of silence. ❛ - y'a... y'a know where we're headin', right? ❜ the medic keeps his tone low as the pilot previously had, wishing to keep any sort of brewing anger between them to a minimum. as they head out through the building's doors, a shiver shoots down his spine. ❛ left, ❜ he begins, taking the lead for the time being to direct the duo towards the airport. a glance is tossed over his shoulder, eyes devoid of that general optimism they held. ❛ the officers at camp said there's a quick way t' where the plans 'r. up the left side of the place, staircase leading right towards the office. i'll jus' head in the general way, keep 'em occupied long as i can. jus'... the plans are most important, here. ❜

    ELLIOT CARTER DIXON — His eyes never drift from a spot so many feet ahead of him on the ground. He followed Walter without a peep from his throats as questions in his head grew like wildfire. Even though Wally wanted to prevent Carter from getting hurt, who's to say going to the office was the safer option? Carter assumed they were making infiltrating an German airport to collect confidential files was a walk in the park, which he had no trust in. He wanted to tell Wally to stop talking like that, that although optimism wasn't likely realistic, it was something they needed, and that they would be fine. They didn't know that. What if Carter can't get back out once he gets in and Walter can't access him? What if Wally needs Carter and he's too busy just wandering the place looking for the files?He bit his tongue. He couldn't pipe up about it, nor did he want to. The walk felt infinite and drenched in silence. With each step, more regret sank into his stomach. He felt guilty for his lack of contribution to the conversation. It could easily be assumed that he was petty, but there was more to it. It wasn't often he shared his thoughts, and now that he saw his thoughts on the mission mattered little to none to the medic, he kept to himself. It wasn't until the walk had finally reached his end when he thought he should speak more.


    He took a moment to drink in the scene. The main entrance was off to the right at the slightest, with the left side of the building being identified as where he needed to go. The runways, control towers, the setting all felt so similar. It was obvious to him that there were blatant differences compared to the Royal Air Force, but it felt so comfortable that he would hopefully be able to identify things he needed to more easily here. He took a shaky breath before turning to the medic and finally piping up. It was difficult for him to choose what to say. Part of him hoped to make a lighthearted joke and see the boy's smile before they both disappeared into the airport, but Carter wasn't good with jokes. It didn't seem like a time for jokes anyway. "Wally, stay safe." he whispered, his voice sounding almost desperate when he decided to speak once more. "I'll be out in no time... don't resort to it unless you absolutely need to," His eyes glossed over with the pit of worry in his stomach growing. He looked over Walter one last time. He didn't know if it was his heavy concern or his nervousness, or possibly a combination of both, but he said the order once more, in a much quieter tone while he turned around. “Stay safe.”


    And with his final message, Carter strode close to the wall of the building and began following it like a trail marker. He turned around multiple times to assure himself that Wally was making his way to the entrance safely before finally turning the corner when it arrived beside him. The pilot took the turn and saw the staircase in the near distance. His pace quickened as his focus grew. He was relieved to see his advantage in action. When it come to approaching events, he could be a nervous wreck. It was when he was in the middle the mission was when the stress began to fuel his focus. Seeing that no one was upon it or near it, he climbed the flight quickly. His hand outstretched to grab the handle of the door and jostled the door. Locked from the outside? He cursed to himself when the door began opening from the inside, which caused him to back up and hit the rail at the top of the flight. On the other side of the door were two conversing German soldiers, too busy speaking in the tongue Carter barely understood to notice him as they walked down the stairs. His sucked in gut fell back out when he turned and found himself finally within the confines of the building. It was only an airport, he thought. They are all about doing their own business and won't call attention to you unless you make it blatantly obvious you're not supposed to be there. He was finally able to clear his mind. The office should be somewhere here. His eyes darted among the hall that held quite a few doors and even a window far down that left that let any rays of light spill onto the floor. It as unusually quiet in the hall to his luck, but he did hear murmuring buffered by walls beside him. He took a deep breath as he walked down the hall and as a door swung open in front of him he instantly grasped the handle to his right and swung himself into the room. He quietly waited for the steps to pass by and dissolve from sound. He observed the room. Far too small and empty to be the room he was looking for. He entered the hallway once more, walking further until he saw double doors that stood out more than the others. This must've been it. He sets his ear upon the door and waits a moment to take in the silence within the room before opening it. The office held some book cases and plenty of cabinets for files to his distaste. He closed the door behind him.


    It was surreal to be in the place he was dreading to visit all morning, and to only make the situation better, he heard conversing outside the doors. It was becoming more crowded in the hall. He sighed as he walked to the desk and looked at the many folders and stacks of papers clipped to one another. This officer was a mess, and he felt himself furrow at the sight of papers that shouldn't be mixed together messily blended on the side table near the window. He shook his head. Carter needed to focus. His nervousness grew once more as he questioned Wally's situation, knowing he'd have to find this information as quickly as possible. His tongue barely stuck out of his mouth as he shuffled the collection of items on the desk, opening drawers until he saw the bold title, the main term he could read was 'flight', and as he saw imagery on some of the papers, he knew these must be that he was looking for. He collected the papers and shoved some papers from the desk to set them cleanly in the middle. He concluded to himself that the best way of carrying them was folding them in his coat and letting it drape over his arm, for shoving them in there wasn't an idea he trusted himself. Just as he was placing everything back where it was on the desk, he heard a knock at the door.


    “Herr?” he heard the call of a man assuming he was the owner of the office he was rummaging through and paused all of his actions. After a few more knocks, Carter knew that the stranger was aware he was in there. “Es könnte einen Feind in der Basis geben,” he heard the words that meant nothing to him, not listening for any words he might understand in the first place.


    “Nicht jetzt,” he grumbled a short sentence of common words to dismiss who ever was at the door, and soon heard no more knocking. He finished the job of reorganizing to the mess that it was and took his sling from his shoulder. The pilot slipped the file-filled coat over his injured arm and shoved the sling in his pocket for later use. This left him to the task of leaving, which could be far more difficult than how he slipped in previously. He peaked through the door and saw a few Germans far off to his left, cursing to himself that he probably wouldn't be able to leave in the entrance where Wally was distracting them in. He head turned as he briskly walked, which soon turned into a run towards the door. His steps of course caused some attraction to the scene, with a soldier emerging from one of the doors and calling him to stop. He pushed open the door as tough as he could and almost slipped as he ran down the stairs. He had to make sure nothing happened to Wally. Oh god, if anything had happened to him, Carter wouldn't be able to forgive himself. He almost had to stop to keep himself from letting the nauseous feeling overwhelm him at the thought of having to come back to camp reporting that Wally didn't make it. He couldn't, he wouldn't let this happen. His stride grew quicker when he began to hear some foreign shouting behind him, his breath heavy as he made his way to the main entrance. The voice became louder as he saw a soldier approaching him, shouting in German and luckily with no weapon in his hand. His eyes furrowed as he drew back his arm while the stranger approached and punched him in the side of the jaw. In return, Carter received a hit to the gut which pushed him back a bit. The pilot quickly rolled his shoulders before shooting a punch with full force at the enemy's temple and watching him crash to the ground. His breath was heavy as he saw little reaction from the stranger, just the amount that made Carter assume he would be down for a long enough time for Carter to find the medic. He took a deep breath and turned around; the boy had no clue what he was about to encounter, but he only prayed that everything went as well as it could've.


    -`ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʀᴍsᴛʀᴏɴɢ — ♂´-


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    ☇ ❛ - y'a too. ❜ a nauseous feeling began to gnaw away at the medic as he watched carter pace off in the direction he'd been told. his worry for the other had nearly left him rooted where he stood, booted feet sinking coldly into the snow that sopped below them. only when the pilot evades his gaze does wally make a shuffle forward, hands swaddled away within the confines of his jacket. not only did he feel safer that way, but far warmer in comparison to the icy german temperatures. the soldier who mans the front entrance crashes his meaningless train of thought, and walter boasts an expression that appears unamused in response. ❛ doktor felix! genau wie ich gefragt wurde! ich habe meine papiere vergessen. ❜ the man seems to accept this lied statement, forced through the englishman's teeth. it was simple enough to get himself inside the airport, parading as the general surgeon he'd met those few nights prior. none of the lower ranking axis fodder would be able to know the difference between himself and the other doctor, unaware of what the other looked like. he'd most likely have the ability to slip by on his lack of militant papers until a higher ranked officer began to nose about his business at the base - but for now, nothing was stopping him from offering the door's guard a nod as he strode into the place. lucky enough for him, it seemed they were low on foot soldiers. - or perhaps, he'd made the right choice deciding upon the front entrance instead of the side. any part of the building could've rightly been invested with krauts.


    attempting valiantly to keep his thoughts off of carter's well - being, another german soldier approaching had done the job for him. ❛ - ich sagte, ich habe meine papiere vergessen! ❜ wally's voice raises an octave higher in pitch, nearly squeaking as he attempts to defend himself against the nagging fodder. despite this fact, he manages to keep from cracking under the pressure. ❛ vielleicht solltest du den ort beobachten und mich nicht nerven. ❜ this surgeon he was supposedly portraying was ranked far above these men, and the medic would be using that fact to his advantage. two of the germans scatter off at his forcibly angered outburst, leaving the area's population dwindled to himself and four remaining soldiers. the englishman clears his throat out of sheer disturbance alone, astounded at how easily the previous order was carried out. a blatantly uncomfortable chuckle spills its way through his sealed lips, most likely garnering more suspicion on his end than throwing it off his trail. ❛ - jetzt! hast du hier einen vorgesetzten? ❜ with the question sounding, wally's eyes blink wide behind his fogged lenses as he observes one of the room's few souls make an almost immediate departure up towards the office. he was most likely heading off to fetch an officer per his request, leaving him with three stragglers who he had yet to distract from the base's ongoing status with some sort of fruitless mission.


    before he could possibly spit some command for dwindling trio to follow, the fodder soldier who'd been guarding the door pipes up about his failure to pat the medic down for any sort of weapon. the lump within wally's throat is swallowed, the gun tucked beneath his jacket now feeling far more like a weighted object with the german's closing footsteps. ❛ - warum, ich denke nicht, dass das notwendig ist! ❜ he insists with a stutter in his vocal pattern, eyes screwing tightly shut out of abrupt fear. though, he cannot let himself tense up in this moment, well - aware being caught with a gun on his person would lead to some not so savoury consequences. the beat his hand ducks away within his jacket is the split second loudly phrased german is rattling within his ears. calls for him to stop, to put his hands against the wall for a contraband check. the englishman was far past that point once the officer's pistol is tugged free of its hiding place, unable to avoid the violent clench of his teeth as a shot reverberates. the soldier who'd been making his approach is incapacitated near instantly, a screeched yelp of terror bubbling from walter's chest as he rushes to duck away at gunshots that weren't his own.


    ❛ - oh, wally. how do y'a end up in places like this... ❜ the medic is grumbling under his breath, glancing around the spot he'd taken for cover as two sets of footsteps stomp through the area. his next responsive action was admittedly bold, but equally idiotic in nature. wally has jumped up from his protective barrier, and taken aim at the two loiters. one takes three clearly fatal shots from the pistol, but his companion was far more fortunate. the shot aimed at him was a dead miss, but his own on the medic caused him to wobble off his feet. ❛ - fuck! ❜ the englishman gasps once his back makes contact with the cold flooring beneath him, eyes blinking towards the ceiling as he frantically works to piece together a cohesive thought. one hand still grasps the gun within it, but the other returns to his field of vision lathered in crimson. though, it's the service rifle smacking against his face in the next instant that surprises him. it's a wonder he still has both eyes afterwards, feeling pellets of glass embed themselves within his face. he fights for breath, rolling onto his side so he may burp up gooey blood. notwithstanding his taken injuries, wally is still shooting at the german. he scrambles away with a croaked noise, narrowly avoiding the bullet ridden corpse crashing down.


    he had intended to perhaps lay in his own pooling blood for another moment before he hears the shouting outside. carter. god, he'd nearly forgotten about carter. there's a slippery clamber as he fights to push back to his feet, pistol dropping from his hold as he makes a dash for the entrance. ❛ - carter! bloody hell! ❜ he sputters into the cold air, crimson frothing past his lips. he rushes forward to give the pilot a once over for wounds, breath coming in through rattled rasps. ❛ - god, they didn't hurt y'a, did they? did they!? ❜ a blood slicked hand cups the man's face within it, surprisingly delicate aside from the shake it's enduring. it snakes down to grasp his companion's own, wally not even bothering to ask about the blitzkrieg plans before he starts to drag him through the snow. a choked cough interrupts his pace, nearly causing the medic to double over in either agony or a larger need for air. ❛ c'mon, we gotta' g'it outta' here - ❜ he could just squint through the remains of his glasses, snuffling the steadily trickling nose bleed back into his nostrils. a speckled trail of red through the city streets would make them noxiously easy to track, but the englishman wasn't set on being taken prisoner in the ankle - deep sleet, either. ❛ - 'f... 'fore i pass out, preferably. ❜

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    ELLIOT CARTER DIXON — “Wally!”  


    His body shivered down his spine as an ache in his chest grew so far he felt that his lungs had collapsed and withered away in a matter of seconds. Walter was a bloody mess, and he winced at the sight of his shattered frames with dotted shards of glass against his face. What the hell happened?His eyes were wide as he felt the bloody hand upon his cheek, wanting to speak and ask what happened and asked how he could help the boy but he was already choking in the frantic feeling he held. He had the opportunity to get in faster, to search faster and not care to fix everything on the desk, to make it and for this to have been prevented. His eyes glossed over as he tried to remember how to breathe and how to calm down. Before he could sputter a breathless response, he feels his weight dragging across the floor as he began to get pulled through the snow and picked up his pace to make it easier for Wally. Soon enough, Carter's strides made him ahead of the injured medic, which was helpful due to the fact he could see farther than the boy. His eyes continuously dart back to Walter behind him, watching his movements and eventually gained the strength in his lungs to speak once more.


    “Jesus, Wally! What happened in there? No━ don’t mind that. Do ya think you can make it back just fine? If you’re gettin’ too tired, please let me know,” he desperately sputtered out as he strengthened the grip of his hand on Wally’s, trying his best to have a grasp strong enough to keep them close together without inflicting any pains to the medic. He would have to make sure he was more than ready at any point to pick up Walter and keep them going, each drop of blood that fell from him making Carter more concerned. They got quite far without any distraction, fortunately. At one of his many turns to look at Wally, however, he witnessed some soldiers on the run in their direction and narrowed his brows. “Of course we got company,” he grumbled to himself with distaste in each word as he continued to head back. He turned to see one brandishing a rifle in his hand and quickly covered Wally’s back while they continued.


    “The gun?” he asked, never noticing he had ditched the pistol back at the scene. Without a weapon and with the blood dripping from the medic, it would be quite difficult to get home safely. At the sound of a gunshot, he freed Walter’s hand of his grip and instead moved the hand to his shoulder where he pushed him to the side, still staying behind the boy and leading him between to buildings. They’d have to deviate from their original, especially considering the walk there didn’t take as much turning and twisting through the snow-coated town. He would prefer not to come with fists to a gunfight, but as he heard the crunching of snowy footsteps grow louder, they needed to find somewhere to go quickly and without a trace. Pulling the sling from his pocket, he quickly stopped to place the cloth against Wally’s wound. His eyes shifted to Wally’s own when he asked him in more of a forced tone to ”Hold it there,” to prevent any crimson dripping to leave a trail right to their path. He took Wally’s hand once more before heading to the end of the side road they took and turned the corner to enter the closest door. The slushed ground had a fortunate amount of fresh footsteps that could lead the Germans anywhere, which led him to shut the door quickly in relief. He looked around to see items lined in shelves and a man sitting behind the counter with a suspicious stare at the two. Carter stood in front of Wally to hide any stains that may be concerning before stumbling simple foreign speech to the storekeeper. “Who ist deine Toilette?” and soon was returned a finger pointing to a door near the back and gave a thankful nod. Multiple conversations were soon being held outside of the door, and with no clue whether they were casual or those of soldiers looking for them, he nervously led the medic to the restroom. It wouldn’t be easy to get home, and even if it was, he probably couldn’t leave the blind boy untreated. He just didn’t know what to do. He closed the door and peaked past the makeshift bandage that was almost soaked in the liquid that made Carter feel sick before looking up to him. Carter didn’t deal with this on a daily basis. He barely even knew how to keep his cuts from getting infected. “W-what do we do?” he questioned in a frantic whisper, knowing just as well as Wally did that he would probably have to help him with his wounds in one way or another. It was just a matter if they had the supplies they needed at the moment.

     

    -`ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʀᴍsᴛʀᴏɴɢ — ♂´-


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    ☇ it was simply easier to allow carter the lead. the smashed lenses were only doing him so much good in this situation, and his desperation to keep from dropping down into the snow was his main focus. ❛ - aye, ❜ he croaks out, coughing into the crook of his arm as to avoid any unneeded blood splatter. it occurs to wally that these men after them would have no idea who they were to be looking for, but any crimson path would surely be a giveaway. - as would being slow enough to get them both caught out in the open. ❛ - i'm fine. ❜ the medic isn't sure why he's attempting to rationalise his injuries. less for his sake, more so for carter's own. the pilot was clearly distressed to see him in a state like this, and it would be best if he kept the studious composure until they were back at the flat. one keeping strong could easily save the team.


    as his thoughts had begun to drift away, either from copious blood loss or strained detachment from the predicament at hand, he's brought back to reality by carter's question. indeed, he'd left the gun back within the airport. he felt like quite the fool once the fact hits him, but the pilot would appear to have it under control. the englishman willingly stumbles on ahead from his companion's touch, widened eyes upturning to catch the taller man's gaze within them. he bobs out a nod as the sling is placed within his crimson stained hands, practically sticking to the gunshot wound within the second its placed upon the torn flesh. had it been anywhere else, there would've been an unsurprising argument about his companion still being in desperate need of the stripped cloth, but it was coming in handy for himself, too. it was comforting to at least be aware the blood flow would possibly dull, a sleeve lifting to wipe the lingering remains of his nosebleed in a desperate attempt to look more like a human being than some sort of firefight victim. as he's dragged down the street once more, he nearly lost what little footing he had at how suddenly jarring the response was. wally fights to keep upright though, shoulders slouching as they enter the building's warmed confines. from his squinted glance about the place, clearly a shoppe of some kind. that could clearly end up working in their benefit, though his head instantly drops to display a show of understanding once carter stands before him to speak with the shopkeeper. a tiny smile is unable to hide from his bloodied facial features as the german spills from his companion's mouth, lips twisting back into their originally tired expression as the duo tromp towards the loo.


    it was a chance to have a break, even just for a moment longer than it'd been in the alley. there's a painfully choked breath as he yanks the sling free of his injury in a quickened instant, eyes squeezing themselves shut as he slouches against the nearest wall. ❛ - are y'a okay? ❜ the medic questions as he had prior to no legitimate reply, shuffling forward to intrude his friend's personal space. his least bloodied hand snakes up to rub the smear he'd left free of carter's scruffy cheek, brows furrowing flatly against his forehead. ❛ - carter, carter. focus. ❜ he's worked to remove his shattered frames as he speaks, tucked away within the front pocket of his jacket. ❛ these krauts ain't know what we look like, right? they ain't know who they're lookin' for. ❜ there's a pause so the englishman may catch his frantically expelling air, expression twisting in silent agony. he wipes the straggling remains of gooey crimson from his own face, cringing at the particles of glass that hit the tiled floor. wally grasps the pilot's hand as he had previously, a quieted shush echoing as he works to calm the other man. ❛ - we're at a shoppe. i can ditch the jacket, buy another! leave like we ain't got no problem, they won't see no blood. ❜

    ELLIOT CARTER DIXON — His breath slowed and he felt his heart flutter when he felt the thumb against his skin and listened as Wally asked about him. The quivering in his fear ridden body had slid to a halt. The fact that the medic had literally taken a bullet and faced other injury yet was so worried to check on the boy who was barely touched caused him to let out a stressed chuckle. “Wally, I'm fine,” he breathed out with a soft smile, his eyebrows still furrowed with concern. The curl of his lips faded away at the sight of Walter's hand and dragged down to a frown. His lip fell between his teeth as he heard him speak, and at the feeling of the hand in his, the scarce flushed expression returned to his face. Carter only worked with people with big personal bubbles, and Wally clearly had little to none. If it would've been anyone else, he'd be bothered by it, but something about the comforting touch Wally gave either by grabbing his hand or sticking to his side at times was comforting to the pilot. The pace of his heart was now a slow steady drum in his chest, pumping at a consistent calming beat as he exhaled. The consoling words had soothed him. His gaze raised to Wally's eyes, glittering with a glossed anticipation. Carter felt safe at the moment.


    He took a deep breath. “Do we want to...do something 'bout that before we leave?” Although he had calmed down, the sincere uneasiness in his voice was still apparent. He could tell that the medic was in pain, but he was taking this incredibly well for just being shot and injured to the face. The thought caused him to look back up to check on the injured male's expression. With the smashed glass and the possible forming bruises on the boy's skin, he narrowed his brows. He quickly took his hand from Walter's to remove a smaller shard of glass from the skin on the boy's cheek with a low mumble more to himself. “Damn kraut,” the frustrated hiss towards the culprit who broke the frames left his throat as he flicked the shard away once removing it, and examined his expression once more. His palm instinctively fell back into the medic's.


    “And what 'bout y'er glasses?” he asked, unsure if a local German store would luckily offer them any pairs that would suit his eyes. “Where can we find y'a another pair?” with curious eyes the word slipped out. Carter, nor anyone in his family, had sight issues and had to deal with glasses, which left him oblivious on how to find them (especially in a foreign place). He was just focused on making sure Walter would be fine, and he needed to see to understand the world around him.

    -`ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʀᴍsᴛʀᴏɴɢ — ♂´-


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    ☇ there's a growing silence between them as wally stands still, allowing his companion to snag the shard of glass he'd missed. a sharpened inhale is more than obvious, the medic squeezing his eyes tight for but a moment. the fresh cuts tattered across his paled face ached as they were exposed to the open air, the englishman already able to feel his right eye attempting to swell shut. ❛ - ouch. ❜ he huffs out afterwards, gaze flickering from carter towards his wound. simply looking at it caused his head to reel, immediately beginning to feel the effects of copious blood loss. he felt incredibly woozy in this moment, wishing he could just curl up and let someone else take take of him. of course, this wasn't going to be the case, nor would it ever. he was a medical professional, and had to treat his own wounds. ❛ - i dunno'. fuck, i dunno'. ❜ the gasped crack within his tone is blatant as he attempts to swallow down the copper - tanged blood that fills his mouth. a hand touches unsurprisingly daintily at the injury, though continually shakes no matter how much effort he puts forth. he dips his head with a tearless sob, leaning his weight back against the wall. why couldn't he cry here? why couldn't there be another doctor wandering about to help him? ❛ - can't do anythin' f'r myself 't - 'til we g'it back t' the flat. the sling is soppin'. ❜ at the object's mention, he balls it back up and passes it off to its original owner. the crimson stains would either dry themselves or come off in due time, it wouldn't be useless to the pilot.


    these thoughts are forced back as he listens to carter ask about his glasses, now bleary sight frantically glancing about the small loo on cue. ❛ - militant model, jus' wit' my prescription. got another pair, but... they're in my pack. ❜ he somehow doubts any they picked up from a shotty shoppe like this would be much help, perhaps even cause a migraine. the next suggested course of action would be the easiest to keep at, wally slowly shucking off his crimson - stained jacket. it's tossed over one of the few stalls in a weakened display, hand grasping his companion's wrist as he makes for the door. ❛ - c'mon, let's jus' g'it somethin' quick 'fore they see blood everywhere. ❜ no matter how agonising the pain was, wally didn't intend to get either of them captured due to his injuries. carter had gotten them this far, fetched them the mission file - he didn't want all the man's hard work going to waste.


    a hefty amount of reichsmark notes are yanked from a pocket of his uniform trousers and quickly put into carter's grasp, wally hoping to keep the amount of blood on the currency to a minimum. there was no need to make the shopkeeper anymore suspicious of them than he possibly was. though the medic intended on getting a cheaper coat, a darkly coloured one that's lined with a knitted wool is pulled. if he liked it enough, perhaps he'd simply give it a decent wash after it kept his abdominal bleeding hidden from obvious sight. as he's briskly tugging it on with a hiss of discomfort, he motions for carter to move forward towards the clerk. ❛ - herr! diese jacke, mein freund wird es von dir kaufen. ❜ he's croaked the german, but it's more than enough to get his point across. his attention is on his friend, tone low as he pushes onto his tiptoes to keep the shared words between the two of them. ❛ - go on an' pay 'em thirty. then, jus'... wrap y'er arm 'round me an' keep y'er head down. ❜ his gait had began to divulge into inconsistent wobbling, something wally couldn't rightly help in this predicament. his eyes squint, looking back towards the cashier's general direction. ❛ - hast du die soldaten draußen gehört? lauter tag! ❜

    ELLIOT CARTER DIXON — He watched the change in expression, every shake or flinch coming from the medic made him ache himself from the tense air. He only gave a silent accepting nod when he was taken out from the restroom and awaited for him to grab a coat. Soon enough he was taken to the counter where he was told what to do in the situation, managing to take out a correct amount of money from his pocket before handing the currency to the keeper with a fake smile plastered to his face, hearing the conversation he understand very little of between the stranger and the medic. Once he saw Wally had put the coat on, he gave a slow nod whilst slipping his arm around Wally for support, his concern growing as he noticed how easily Walter was slipping from a basic stance. His grip tightened for more support on the medic's side before turning him around and getting the two quickly out of the door.


    Keeping true to Walter's instruction, he hung his head low as he held on to Walter while they walked. It was quiet for a while, and despite Carter not being one to constantly contribute to a conversation, he hated when their was silence between them. It was unusual and only happened in moments when one of them was distressed in some type of way. Obviously, in this case, it was difficult for Wally to keep his optimistic attitude when he was blindly being led through the snow with a bullet wound, so Carter would have to try to step it up. The pilot briskly cleared his throat. “Y'a feelin' alright?” He realized how stupid the question was. Of course he wasn't feeling alright. He mentally cursed to himself before whispering as he put more strength in keeping the boy up. “If there's anything I can do...just tell me,” his words with little tonality almost sounded desperate with the worry he held. He felt his arm began to grow a little tired but still held him to make sure he wouldn't slip form his grasp. This was one of the countless times having his second arm function would be overwhelmingly convenient. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about that, though. He snapped away from those thoughts as his eyes kept to the ground in front of them while they paced, not bothering to look over at the sound of any German conversations they've passed or are nearing.

    -`ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʀᴍsᴛʀᴏɴɢ — ♂´-


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    * ✩ ˖ ˚ — ↴

    ☇ wally attempts to make the process somewhat easier for carter, small frame slouching itself close to the pilot's side. despite the man having ditched his coat in favour of keeping the blitzkrieg plans free of prying eyes, he was still overtly warm. the medic knows the temperatures simply happens to be affecting him more due to the blood loss, but that doesn't change the fact it was a welcome heat. he was so caught up within his own plodding thoughts, bleary gaze trying desperately to focus on anything, that he'd nearly missed the conversation cue. a breathy chuckle spills past his lips of which upturn in the slightest hint of amusement. notwithstanding the social skills carter appeared to be gaining in recent days, it would seem he still had trouble working out the correct thing to say. ❛ - aye, fresh as a daisy. ❜ the englishman counters in a humorous response, laugh cut overtly short with a grunted whimper of pain. the sting it brought was awful, shooting down his side in a heated burst of agony. he works to ignore it, instead focusing on the movement of his feet.


    he allows that muteness to build up between them once again, before it would seem carter has retrieved his social bearings. wally bites his bottom lip between his bloodied teeth, the same nervous tic he'd performed earlier this morning. ❛ - jus' make sure i don't die 'fore we make it back t' the flat, aye? ❜ though this statement possessed no hilarity to it, a tired smirk tugs at the medic's face. no matter the circumstances, no way could he withstand flashing a smile of some sort. be it that optimistic nature of his, or more so for those around him to keep the situation calm, there would always be one to share. ❛ - that'd be right embarrassin'. ❜


    the medic's eyes squint as he tries to get a better grasp of the setting around them, listening close to every german utterance in comparison to his companion. with each step they trudged on, the obvious orders of soldiers were beginning to fall upon deaf ears. not only did this fact mean they were quickly approaching the flat building - but the officers hadn't enough sense yet to send their men roaming this far within town. for once today, a lucky break. a bloodied hand that'd been tucked away within the confines of his new jacket frees itself to grasp at carter's shirt, fingers clutching a fistful of the fabric between them. it was a genuinely soothing feeling to have the pilot at his side, uninjured from their excursion. that was all wally truly cared about in all this mess and worry about his own conditions - his friend had come away okay. surely he'd taken a bruise or two, unable to avoid being unscathed for the most part, but the medic could easily take care of something meagre as that. the thoughts of having to check his arm again invade his mind, coughed huff bubbling from his throat. ❛ - i'm glad y'er okay. ❜ he breathes out, head resting lazily on the other's arm. that wasn't the sole reason he'd spoken up. ❛ - jus' help me up t' the flat, alright? grab me my bag, an' i'll take it from there. - an' get the bandages off y'er arm, i'll have t' change them while i'm at it. ❜

    ELLIOT CARTER DIXON — He had of course helped him all the way back to the flat and momentarily freed his grasp to let it rest for a moment while Walter leaned against his arm. It was quite a peaceful moment, despite the previous chaos that had rained upon the boys. There they stood, hopefully safe from any hostile intruders and with one another side by side. It was just Wally and Carter and no one else, and it let him finally catch a full gasp of breath into his lungs as he heard Wally's words. He looked down and felt another one of his rare genuine grins falling onto his expression while staring down at his boon companion. "Hold on tight," he addressed when his arm once more snaked around the boy's side once more.


    If he had felt confident enough in his upper body strength to carry Walter over his shoulder to climb the flight, he would've already been on his way, but he doubted he'd be able to do it with his current status. His grip was closer to the boy's hip and fastened to him as he set a foot two steps above the ground floor. In his first careful lunge, he was able to bring Walter to the second step without having to do any physical labor of his own, but his arm was still growing sore when he exhaled. He'd repeat this process twice after his first stride, lucky enough to hold Wally up long enough to get him up the majority of the flight before he realized his arm could no longer pick him up a step, and slowly set a foot upon the next step with a creak before pulling him up step by step, (an occasional grumble slipping from his dry lips) which included more teamwork from the injured medic to Carter's dismay.


    Soon enough they were at the flat and Carter didn't let Wally bother with the key. He took the piece of metal from the pocket it was held in before unlocking and opening the door, with the rest of his power in the arm that had held the medic up for quite some time quickly taking him to the table and seating him. He found where the sprawled medical supplies were and shoved them back into the bag before bringing it to him. Before doing that, he had searched for and found the frames that would be set right at the fingertips of Wally after the bag was set beside him. They had made it. His head fell behind him and his eyes closed once they saw the ceiling; a breath of relief puffing from his lungs like a cloud of nicotine did from a smoker. He brought himself back to reality and shut the door and turning with his arm already unraveling the bandages that held his arm while Wally did work of his own. His eyes couldn't help but continually linger back to the medic, glittering with anticipation of any updates on the wound when the bandages were thrown off and the sling was slipped from his pocket and set on the table to hopefully dry later. The pilot sat himself next to Wally and silently watched with both of his arms sitting neatly on his lap. He wouldn't let his own arm get addressed until they situated the shorter boy's injuries.

    “How's it lookin,” he whispered as he kept his eyes locked on the wound that would normally have him run to the loo to keep from spewing breakfast on the floor. With his arm and his worry for Wally, it wasn't that much of a bother to him at the specific moment.