Chapter Text
"You should stop squirming, it's not going to help you stitch those up." the gruff voice had slightly yelled out, only enough to get his point across in a way that he only did with Bryan. His large frame and stature were leaning against the now-opened door, unnoticed by the only person who resided in the room.
The figure in front of the hotel bed startled, his figure shriveled up from the surprise visit by Molten, like a grape after too much time in the fridge, left to rot. Molten could hear Bryan's thoughts running at a rapid pace, his head swiveling swiftly in a panicked and guarded mode, his thoughts circling at a speed he couldn't comprehend, in an edged voice, he tried to utter a sentence, caught in like a deer headlights. It was until he could fully comprehend it was Molten that he melted a little, the 7+ foot frame wasn't someone who would stop by the hotel often. His eyebags were heavier than usual, and his arm was out of sight, hidden when he announced his entrance abruptly but Molten could feel something was wrong.
"Jesus Christ Molten. Don't sneak up on me like that." the voice was breathed out painfully, the man breathing a little hard as he stopped out of habit and surprise every time someone had come near him. A habit ingrained due to those, twisted animatronics who liked playing games with the park owner, their favorite was always tag, and painfully so, always disturbingly aware that Bryan was human, he had limited stamina compared to them. Molten made it painfully apparent to him when they had first met.
"What are you doing here Molten?" the park owner had stopped his hands, leaving the needle and thread between his fingers to pause as he kept looking at him from the floor. His face was tired, and pale, sweaty hands barely stopped shaking, his eye bags were worse than before, and his whole body looked like it screamed pathetically to stop bleeding.
However, the blood that looked like it was drowning his arm had barely stopped, and the one wound he intended on stitching up was halfway done, and by how much he was writhing due to him piercing his skin, this was going to be a long night. As he peacefully and lazily sauntered towards the owner, he could see from above, how nasty it had gotten, the tissues and alcohol pads were everywhere. The med kit items scattered around him, like a chaotically arranged clutter of him trying desperately to conceal the animalistic wounds, inflicted on him, the vision he found hard to describe, looked gloomy and frantic. He had no other concept of medical care and was distraught over not knowing how to take care of his impairment, unlike how he comprehends how to fix animatronic's. Molten could feel the humiliation in Bryan's eyes, still staring at him with a slightly confused face, not knowing what to start with, the questions still whirring in his mind.
Molten was there for a reason, but he could only do so much to alleviate the pain he's already been dealt with in this large game of poker.
"To see you bleeding out on the floor." his body lazily sat down, his body slowly going down before the chaotic mess around the park owner, who was still staring at him with a sort of dissociative, glossy look. Molten could hear him thinking, the screws that make up his mind slowly turning despite the long time they haven't been used. His body lazily shifted, attempting his fairest to not tense up the already mentally precarious state Bryan was still in but to appear as his usual normal self, unbothered and snarky but defiant in a way that unusually soothes the park owner, one way he hasn't yet figured out for some random reason.
"You'll need something for your mouth, to help muffle the sound," he grunted out, seemingly ignorant of Bryan opening his mouth to want to say something, but advised himself otherwise.
As he heard the ruffle of some sheets, he looked momentarily from his hands to see the owner putting the ends of a pillow in his mouth, seeming to know that his teeth could accidentally puncture his tongue with enough force if he was in too much pain. Seeing it done himself when he used to torture people, their tongues piercing through because of how they were so unwilling to make any noise.
As he picked up the stitching needle from the man and took his arm with slight firmness, gentle to not go near the bleeding claw marks, the arm slowly still shaking as the blood poured out from the slow movement directed by Molten's hand, leaving Bryan's hand in the air, he took a cotton pad. Doused it in the upside-down alcohol bottle, before applying it to the wound, the bubbling of the clear liquid burning at the surface of the already slightly inflamed gash. A muffled hiss of pain could be heard from the man in front of him, still biting his pillow, which he would need to wash tomorrow unless he wants to sleep on a pillow with his saliva. As Bryan tried his best to not sharply tear his arm away from the large animatronic, tired and in pain from the still bleeding claw marks left around just an inch or two below his elbow but he let Molten continue.
With skilled and experienced claws, he began to stitch up the remainder of what he had already done, in perfect focus leaving the silence to continue as a warm blanket. As extensively as that blanket attempts its best to alleviate the pain of the other, despite numerous alcohol pads or bottles he had, they had no morphine in stock, seemingly running out for no reason. Molten could only take a guess, his peripheral vision slightly spotting other jagged and rough stitches from above the elbow, even worse than the ones he caught Bryan trying to do before he went to bed, evidently concealing them from his friends the whole day with his red bomber jacket.
Molten could feel the embarrassment radiate off the man in front of him, whether it would be of him getting hurt, molten finding him in his hotel room trying to stitch his wounds up by himself, or how poorly he had done to stitch it up, Molten didn't care. He cared more about his assignment being done with the man soon asleep so he doesn't cause more of a panic attack on himself or others. Yet despite the calm and cold nature he finds himself fronting as his attitude, he can't help but seemingly get more aggravated at the amount of blood left just in front of him, the puddle felt like it kept getting bigger. His eyes felt like it was a never-ending stream of blood, seemingly getting bigger as the minutes pass by he tries his hardest to make it cease before Bryan passes out from blood loss.
"How did you know I was here?" the muffled owner's voice had come through to him, the pale-ish skin was noticeable to him from the arm he was still holding, and the arm looked sweaty and clammy, yet slightly cold to the touch. He had lost a lot of blood trying to rectify the mess before Molten got here, but was too imperceptive for his own welfare due to his floundering to hold the thread steadily.
Otherwise, he was straining to strike up a conversation, without or with the circumstance they were both placed in due to Bryan's inability to not know when to ask for assistance or even help from the other animatronics. Let alone a hospital, which despite being at the theme park, was inadequate to house much help without proper medical doctors or nurses to help heal those injuries. And yet the man still didn't seem to think he needed medical assistance, despite all the injuries he's sustained throughout the life of the park.
"I heard you were hunted down today. I came to see if you were hiding anything from it." Molten had cut the last remaining of the thread using his teeth, a small feat after he had made a knot with the thread, to allow the stitches to stay closed and to be absorbed by the skin once it was fully healed.
"If I hid anything...? I don't understand, Molten." Bryan was even more difficult to hear over his heavy breaths, seemingly about to black out from the pain/blood loss of his stitches. That man really wanted to play dumb despite the predicament they were both placed under, it seemed he wanted to deny it.
Molten had to give it up for how stubborn Bryan is, impressed, really! But this wasn't the time to focus on if he was denying it or not. He needed to make sure nothing worse can happen to the already exposed injury.
He should've come to Molten first after his fatal casualty after the twisteds seemed to target him every time he attempted to proceed out on his own from the thorough eyes of Molten. As if he had any control or jurisdiction over those imbeciles who were wanting to play games with him every chance they got when he was alone. What a fucking idiot. Of course, he would try to go out on his own despite the constant target on his back far before Molten had come to the light of the park to help him due to his friend's worries.
The blood on the floor shone in the dimmed moonlight from the outside, it had mockingly glimmered at him from the light as if it had tried to make him angry in a way he never could figure out why. Maybe later on, when he finds the time to care about it rather than finish up the paperwork and perimeter patrol he frequently finds himself doing for the safety of Bryan.
"You hide injuries, to act as if nothing happens. Whether you cannot come to terms with what happened, or you don't want to worry anyone."
As he continued to blabber on, whether it was to himself or Bryan, he couldn't enable on looking up at the man whose breaths lowered to calmer than before. He had passed out. His body is still in pain, as he was resting and recovering from the lack of red blood cells from all the blood loss but his breaths are more even. He had gone to sleep, while Molten was binding up his stitches so nothing can nick them and bring up the likelihood of opening up the newly prepped injuries.
How fucking peachy, to think about a year and a half ago, he was hunting him down for sport and now he's wrapping the guy's injuries as a mom does to her kid after a bad soccer game.
Just as he tied a knot in the bandages and clipped it together with a safety pin for good measure, and because he doesn't trust Bryan enough to not pick at it. He ran his hands under the man's knees and lifted him up, another hand holding his mid-back, allowing him to carry him and immediately drop him on the bed with a rough plop. Determining whether to yank the blankets from the hotel bed over him, before deciding to fuck it, and pull it over anyways, wanting to get this arrangement over with. Scoffing at the business man sleeping with a blanket over him due to his arm losing a shit ton of blood made Molten almost laugh out loud, threatening to wake up the man, but never actually doing it. The small bit of dread that he never wanted to acknowledge had died down, his eyes scanning over his vitals, sighing when it seemed normal, before closing the door behind him as he bent down to get under the door.
They really need better entrances for him, if he continues to stay here. He's getting tired of going under the doors, or maybe they just need to get a better eye to watch out for Bryan.