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Iris Lark The remnants of a thunderstorm rumble in the distance, the ground still damp from the rain that has moved through. There is other moisture on the ground as well, stained crimson, and in the midst of it lies Iris. Her belongings are scattered on the ground and she's clearly has been through an ordeal. One leg is bleeding badly from a gunshot wound to the thigh and a head would is also oozing blood slowly. She seems to just be coming to and she tires to push herself to a seated position, but doesn't actually manage it.
Hardman     What would have been a familira crunching sound from the desolate wasteland was replaced with the presence of a light sinking of the heavily booted feet of Hardman as he strolled through the wastes like a man gone astray - though nothing could be further from the truth.

His green eyes surveyed the grounds, glancing around for any potential threat, the feiging light of the far away thunderstorm reflecting in his...Iris...?

Catching sight of the woman on the ground, with the presence of blood surrounding her, he quickly shifted his carbine to one side, "Hey! Hey! Come on, calm down, you're okay, you're good!" Hardman assured her, coming close to her side to offer support, "Stay down, just lay there, I got you, don't try and move..." He directed, trying to ease her to relax - as much as possible in her current state, "What the fuck happened...?"
Iris Lark Iris squints up at the voice that is far too loud for her right now. She wobbles and with his help sits up and then promptly vomits on the grass. It's not pretty and she isn't either right now, covered in blood and now spattered with vomit. "I..three mercs jumped me while I was walking to.." She looks confused and a hand shakily comes up to touch the wound on her head, and she hisses out a pained breath. "I..don't remember where I was going." She squints up at Hardman. "You look vaguely familiar."
Hardman     "I'm the man of your dreams, doll" Hardman immediately replied to her comment about vageuely recognizing him, as if it was his second nature to shoot off a reply. Though his medical prowess was still in full motion, "Stop movin' around, it'll be a shitload worse..."

Vomitting, active nausea, dizziness, loss of immediate memory details, all clear signs she was suffering from a severe cuncussion. "Lay back" he explained, his voice low and as comforting as it could be for the soldier-of-fortune. "I'm gonna' try and address your head wound, okay? I need you to try and relax, okay? You can close your eyes to help with then nausea - but if you start drifting to sleep...well...I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to slap you, understand? Don't fucking fall asleep" - that last part seemed serious, that or he had some sort of wounded woman abuse fetish, who could tell.

His hands worked at the medkit, removing a few thick, heavily folded over sections of gauze, and grabbing a stretchy compression style bandage in the other hand, "It's not going to feel pretty, I'm sorry...."
Iris Lark Iris eases back on the ground her eyes squeezing shut as she manages to get out a soft whimpering moan. "No sleeping." She tries to shake her head and she cries out, automatically trying to push back to a seated position. "Why is everything wet? Where am I?"
Hardman "No!" Hardman nearly barks as Iris attempts to sit up, he challenges her motion by pivoting his hips and - perhaps a bit cruelly, pressuring his knee against her chest in an order to pin her back down, "Stop. Fucking. Flailing" he grumbles, placing the folded gauze padding across the actually bloodied wound atop her cranium and them beginning to wrap the compression bandage around it, "When I'm done wrapping your head, you can sit up" he explains...
Iris Lark Iris tries to push at the knee against her chest, swearing quietly as she tries to make sense of her surroundings. Finally after a moment or two, she simply lies there, tears leaking out of her eyes as her head is wrapped. "I won't move.." She manages to say, gasping as she tries to keep herself from vomiting again.
Hardman Hardman finishes the wrapping of Iris' head, a neat bandaging wrapping around her wounded area.

He leans down, a supporting hand slipping under her to between her shoulder blades, as he does he whispers a soft, "I'm sorry" as he attempts to ease her up, his knee easily removed.

"It was wet...because you were bleeding from your head..." he explains, sliding on his knees along the ground, muddying his knees as he does so, "Now this..." he says, addressing the leg wound, "NO's gonna' fuckin' hurt, love..." he remarks, gathering another wide compression bandage from his medkit.
Iris Lark Iris looks green and she's shaking with exhaustion, as she's helped to a seating position. "It's okay.." She says and when she looks at the gunshot wound on her thigh she grimaces. "Do what you have to do, and I'm sorry in advance if I scream. I probably will."
Hardman "If you didn't...I'd be concerned I wasn't doing it right..." he mutters, withdrawing a rolled up bandage and extending it before her easily, "You can bite on this if you can scream. It's up to you..." he pauses, gathering a pair of shears from his vest, "And uh...not tryin'a be frisky, doll. Just..uh...gotta' cut the leggings open..."
Iris Lark Iris promptly puts the bandage in her mouth and grunts out assent at him cutting at her jeans. She mumbles something that sounds a lot like "Just get it done." She squashes her eyes closed tight, her shoulders tense with what might be coming.
Hardman     With concent given through the muffled ability of a woman with a bandage shoved in her mouth, Hardman sets at shearing a long length down the left leg of Iris' blue jeans. Peeling the material away, the full damage of the gunshot wound exposed to the air, its pulsing, thickly blodied area a vibrant crimson.

Hishands worth deftly and peel away layers of a foldedbandage, roping them around his finger - which he then begins shoving into the bullet hole. It appears both brutish and barbaric, literally stuffing the wound with a type of gauze that is no doubt the cause of the aforementinoned 'scream' warning.

Though after he has done so approximately twice, though what undoubtedly feels like a million times, he gathers the wide compression bandage he had set aside and begins to firmly wrap the area.
Iris Lark Iris lets out a scream, the bandages in her mouth falling away. She claws at the ground and tears stream down her bloodied and dirty face as she tries to literally climb out of her skin. When the pain subsides some, she takes a breath and tries to speak, but can't really find the words.
Hardman "Shhh. Shh. Sh. You're okay, you're good, I know it fuckin' hurts..." Hardman assures, reaching a hand up to her shoulder, one still on her leg, below the wound that had just been bandaged, "You're okay. How you doing, you okay, still alive, ain't ya?" he poses, looking directly at Iris
Iris Lark "I'm not okay.." Iris retorts, snapping a bit before she grimaces and her cheeks go pink. "Sorry..I'm..okay now, alive." She glances around the brown grass and sighs. "I don't remember how I got here, where I am..and you still look familiar." She looks as if she might cry again. "How am I going to get home?"
Hardman Hardman rests his hand on Iris' shoulder still, "My name's James Hardman. I'm a private military contractor with the Militia. You helped patch me up once... what you're experiencing is normal, you had a nasty head wound. You are in the wastes, and...I think you got ambushed by some Mercs." he explains, green eyes surveying Iris' face intently, "You're going to be so very, very sore. My leg is still pretty banged up myself, but I can help you get wherever you need to go if you want."
Iris Lark "I need to get home, I need to get to Avalon." Iris mumbles, and she lets out a soft sigh before she offers Hardman a wry smile. "Thank you James, and I'm sorry I ..if we walk, it's going to be very very slow." She sees herself for the first time, clothes matted with blood and vomit and she swallows visibly. "If you help me get to my feet, I guess it's one step at a time."
Hardman "Tell ya' what..." he explains, rising to his feet and extending both his calloused hands down toward her, "I'll walk you to your place, make sure you get there safe and sound, and while we walk -albiet so very, very slowly - you can talk my ear off about what you CAN remember?..." he pauses, offering a simple smile at Iris, the edges of his mouth curling up into the whiskery fabric of his beard, "And I'm pretty sure you're the first person to call me James in years, let alone the first beautiful girl ta' do it in ages"
Iris Lark Iris takes the offered hands and when she puts weight on her wounded leg she lets out a very undignified squeaking noise. She manages a breathy laugh and remains standing, though a bit wobbly at it. She gestures west and leans heavily on Hardman as they walk, making a visible effort not to make noise with every step she takes. "Talk your ear off, well..I can try." She says, concentrating on finding a landmark. "I was walking the settlements, as I often do, offering medical aid." She glances back at the blood soaked muddy ground and frowns. "Someone called out for help, and then.."

She pauses, going still for a moment as a hand reaches up to the bandage on her head. "I got hit on the head and..I heard snatches of conversation...I don't even remember being shot." She starts to walk again, slowly. "Beautiful huh? I'm covered in vomit, bruises and blood. Is this your idea of a good time?" She jokes, nudging the man next to her softly.
Hardman Gasp - a feign since of surprise and being taken abak, "This isn't YOUR idea of a good time...?" he muses, grinning abroad and asisting Iris in her walking, his own leg still a bit wobbly from the few days of being shot in it before and exhaling heavily through his nose with easy weighted step, though he does take it like a relative champ, all things considered.

"True story...? He mutters, "Shit happens. Just cause ya' get shot up and puke all over cause of a concussion doesn't make you magically -not- attractive, doll. Besides, maybe you're just playing really, really, REALLY hard to get or something?" he jests, offering a low rumble of a laugh as he guides, or rather, allows Iris to guide, their way through the wasteland.
Iris Lark "No, this certainly isn't my idea of a good time." Iris replies, and the whole thing just hits her at once. The vomit smell, the blood, the dirt and just the general trauma of having been manhandled by people she didn't know. She laughs, an almost desperate and nervous laughter that bends her over for a moment. She wobbles and only by clutching Hardman's arm does she not tumble face first into mud. It takes another few moments for her to catch her breath and then she speaks again. "If this was playing hard to get..well, it can't be said that I don't go big." She shakes her head and sighs. "I guess a girl just doesn't feel attractive when she's covered in yucky vomit."
Hardman Hardman smirks at Iris simply, though as she nearly topples over his posture shifts to a bit more concerned until it becomes obvious she's still alright and concious, funny, even.

"Didn't you know...?" he asks, gesturing to the areas of now drying vomit, "It's what's on the inside that matters...?" he says, his green eyes locking in a bit of a gaze of a 'yeah...i just said that...that just happened' for a second before grinning, the growth of his beard breaking to reveal teeth, "That, or it was spray you down with water from a water bottle, but I figured it wasn't worth the risk of shock, and you may not have wanted to take part in the wet shirt contest so soon after meeting me, even isn't the first time you've met me"
Iris Lark "I'm sorry for that, everything is still kind of fuzzy for me." Iris apologizes, and her teeth worry on her bottom lip for a moment or two. She finally spots a landmark that looks familiar and changes direction slightly. "Oh good, we're going the right way.." She swallows and goes quiet for a moment or two as they slowly hobble across the wasteland. "Well I think we all have the same squishy guts and stuff on the inside so we're all equally attractive." She grins towards Hardman and then her eyes fall to his leg. "So what happened to you, and why haven't you been helped with it?"
Hardman Though not offering a reply, his firm lips to smirk at Iris' mention of the equally beautiful squishy insides. "Oh, that?" he begins, nodding at his own leg, "That ain't the problem, I've had leg wounds before, I'll limp around on it for awhile and eventually it'll work itself out....or it won't, I'm gettin' fuckin' old anyway..." he grumbles - typical old man actions - "The one fuckin' with me is my chest, you can't see it, but I took about six rounds to it durin' a big gunfight out in Dunwich." he explains, exhaling heavily, "But I'll live. And so will you. Buncha fuckin' survivors, we are, huh?"
Iris Lark "Mist bullets?" Iris asks, her gaze shifting to try to see how bad it is. "Well, yes, you'll live and I'll live for now, but if you want and I can treat that for you. I hope you'll let me once we get to my home." She tug on Hardman's arm for a moment and stops walking. "I need a rest.." She says, wobbling as she tries to stand straight, her breath panting out softly. "Sorry."
Hardman "No worries" he replies prompty and assists in lowering Iris to the groundas softly as possible - for the both of them - "Y'know...usually women just offer to throw caps at me to take my shirt off, not bribe me with treating my wounds" he muses, a low chuckle as he does so, though he plops down right next to Iris where she rests. "I gotta' admit... You're much nicer after throwing up on yourself. You weren't super sweet when I met you last time..."
Iris Lark Iris blinks and she gazes at Hardman with wide and slightly worried eyes. "I'm sorry." She says and she ducks her head, hair falling to obscure her features. "I'm not sure why I wasn't nice, but I promise that I'm usually a pretty polite person." She shifts on the ground, grimacing at the slightly damp surface. She pushes her hair away from her face after a few moments and she glances sideways at Hardman. " you to take off your shirt?" She asks, a quirk of an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I bet that's either fun or frustraiting for you."
Hardman "Tell ya' for a cap." he replied with a grin, shuffling a bit in his sitting position with a grunt, "I believe you were irritated that I was patchin up my own chest and you didn't get to lay your hands on it, so clearly this is your followup ploy to get my shirt off" he grins, shaking his head just a bit, "For the record....I'm not really a conceited fuckin' asshole with a giant ego. I'm really sweet and caring. Y'know, on the inside." he explains, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, his eyes wandering around as if he was thinking and looking past the area into another dimension of personal thought.
Iris Lark "A version of penny for your thoughts?" Iris says, and she snickers out a soft chuffing laugh. "Okay, I think we can move along if you're ready." She says, struggling to get to her feet and not quite managing it. "Well I..don't know if I would get irritated that you were patching yourself up, but whatever it was, I'm sorry for it still." She laughs again and pokes Hardman gently on his side. "On your squishy beautiful insides." That makes her giggle for a moment and she tries again to get to her feet.
Hardman "uunffggh" Hardman grunts out as he gathers himself to his feet, and stands up, extending his hands to Iris to help her up anew, "C'mon you beautiful puke-covered woman" he grumbles, "Don't worry about your past transgressions. I'd have left ya' to bleed out if you were that much of an ass" he mentioned, smirking. Adjusting his carbine a bit and looking over to Iris then, "But really, why one cutoff jean leg and one not?" he smirks, "Sorry, I'll stop. Just tryin'a be lighthearted"
Iris Lark Iris snickers and she only sucks in a slightly painful breath as she's pulled to her feet. "One more small foothill and we'll be in Avalon." She says and then she tugs him in a general westerly direction. "I worry all the time. I worry about what I say, who I say it to." She wrinkles her nose and shrugs as she looks down at her legs. "Maybe my one leg is the shapely one, and the other..not so much?"
Hardman Hardman glances over Iris a bit, "yeaaah...but it's all covered in blood, but you -did- get me to feel it up, so maybe that's the secret..." he muses, grinning as he helps her along, "I'll walk ya' over the mountains if it means I get to keep bullshitting with someone" he chuckles, though he looks at her seriously, "Seriously though..." he turns his face into a bit more of a serious firmness of his lips, "You shouldn't worry so much. You seem likeable enough."
Iris Lark Iris grunts at the last statement and doesn't reply right away. Instead she puts her attention to climbing the small hill, stopping to catch her breath at least twice before the manage to crest it. Laid out in front of them is the comically small village of Avalon. Built to look like a renfaire met a movie set. As they walk towards the lights, she finally speaks up. "I shouldn't worry so much, you might be right, but it's something I do now without even realizing it." She points to a small yard where a cute little dog house has been built. "That's my place."
Hardman Hardman grunts at Iris in return, more or less in a mock gesture of her own grunt, "Dog house?" he poses his head, canting it to one side slightly, "Is that where you hide the bodies of the men you lure to your house on the pretense of fixing their wounds?" he smirks, guiding Iris easily toward her house, "I'm pretty big. I dunno if I'll fit. You may have to chop me up first..." he metions as if he was talking about a flavor of tea. "But really...You shouldn't." he adds again, as if to re-affirm his previous words.
Iris Lark Iris rolls her eyes, but she doesn't actually look upset, despite the grimace on her face. "It's for my piglet, he sleeps there when he gets locked out." She sighs and leans against the waist high wall bordering her property. "There are plenty of survivors who have been here and lived, you can ask around." She sasses, and then she pushes off the wall and makes her way towards the front door. "You will come in and let me look at you, right? I'll make you tea." She promises, pushing on the door as she unlocks it.
Hardman "Oh, so you make a habit of letting people come and go from your house, huh?" Hardman muses, grinning at her easily, the whiskers of his beard parting around his smiling lips, "And you said that me getting caps to take my shirt off was akward..." he muses, trailing Iris though careful to assist her as she moves, in order to insure that she doesn't fall over. "But I suppose I will subject myself to your torture"
Iris Lark "I make a habit of inviting my friends, and why wouldn't I?" Iris remarks, her nose wrinkling as she limps into the living area, calling out for the piglet. "I'm pretty sure that helping you won't be torture, but maybe the tea will be. I'm running low on stores, so it won't be anything too good or fragrant." She shakes her head as she gazes down at herself. "Make yourself comfortable, and I'll go get into clothes that don't reek of vomit."
Hardman Hardman smirks subtly at Iris, following behind her into her house and glancing around as he did so. He peers around the area, and Iris leaves to get into clothes that aren't covered in vomit - why would anyone want to do that - he makes his way toward the large plush couch with a limp and plops down with a weighty, heavy exhale of a man who has likely not seemed to sat on anything so comfy in a long...long time. His head tilts back and his green eyes squint as he looks around, "Typically this Doc thing only works one way!" he shouts to allow him to be heard in the other room as she changes.
Rexus Rexus enters the house, having heard of a kerfluffle out in the sticks. He squints at Hardman.. then Iris.. then back to Hardman... then Iris. "Shoe on the other foot eh?" he teases, going to his usual chair and taking a seat. "What did I tell you bout wanderin the wastes all by yourself? hmmmm?"
Iris Lark Iris limps back into the living room when Rexus walks in and his comment is only answered with a wry smirk. She has the soiled clothes under one arm and tosses them into a crate. "I do it all the time, and I'm not sure.." She narrows her eyes and mutters something under her breath as she continues to limp towards the kitchen. "You shouldn't make fun of an injured woman." She calls out, and then adds. "The Doc thing is going to work one way, I'll just be the Doc this time."