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    Summary

    Tommy sits on the floor, legs splayed out in front of him, hair hanging sticky and matted around his face, blood dripping from a cut at his hairline, a large reddish-pink bruise already forming around it. His arm, the one with the bone sticking out of it, is cradled in his lap by his uninjured hand. Panting, he looks up at her, eyes glassy with pain, “Somethin’ wrong with my arm, darlin’?”

    “Jesus,” Maria kneels, yanking her bag from her shoulders, “The bone."

    “Tis but a scratch.”

    “Tommy, it’s coming out of your skin.”

    “I’ve had worse.”

    “What are you even saying right now.”

    “It’s just a flesh wound.”

    Maria pauses, hand on the trauma kit in her bag, and looks at him incredulously, “Tommy Miller, tell me you are not quoting Monty Python right now?”

    IE: Maria and Tommy get in a tight spot with some raiders. People get hurt, and Tommy cracks some bad jokes.

    Series
    Language:
    English
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