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Shit! He sliced open his hand. Fuck, he knew he shouldn’tve tried to cook while drunk. He stared at the wide gash on his palm in dismay…
…Why wasnt it wasn’t bleeding?
It was a pretty deep cut, there’s no reason why he shouldn't be absolutley covered in blood right now, but...
No blood. Huh....
He distantly noted that he wasn’t feeling the correct amount of pain he should be feeling either.
It was weird. It's like his veins were empty. Unnaturally hollowed out. No, not hollowed.. not quite... The cut felt.... Well to be honest the cut felt like Nothing at all. Like the Void itself had rooted deep into his body, and had been stripping him of sensations without him noticing.
A flash of aggravation ran through him at the realization. His blood ran hot. Well, not actually, but it totally would. Y’know, if he had any.
“Fuckin’ Ţ̷̝͇͎͌̋̇̔͝e̶̲̹̻̾͂d̷͍̣͐͐͑̈́, you son’ova bitch,” he angrily mumbled as he shook his arm, as if he could will the blood back through his body. He could, actually. The ease of the action didn't make it any less frustrating, however. He really shouldn't have to fucking do any of this.
The feeling of static slowly coursed throughout his veins. The Emptiness carved away with a vengeance, and his arteries once more filled with the warm river of life.
“Keep yur’ shitty ṽ̶̲̪͚̻̇̽̾ò̷̪̤̲͓̈́̀̆̚i̶͎͉̱͎͎̯̦̓̇̒̿ḓ̵̳̳͓͓̼͓̍͊̉̈͛̕͝͠ out’ve me. We've 'll got our Relics'. Ther's no need fer' this shit." He continued cursing T̸̢͍͎̠̮̤̫̩̄e̷̟̦̠͔̱͆́̓̄d̶͍͇̃̓ until the blood went from a small trickle to pouring out properly. like it should be. Bastard.
The static feeling died down a bit as his veins settled, and the cut finally started to register.
"Can’t fkn b'lieve that guy... smh—!"
A sharp pain abruptly cut off his train of thought. “Fuck!” He clutched his injured hand close to his chest, abruptly sobered up due to the shock.
"Ow oof owie owchie, my bones! Shit, that hurts!.." What happened? He glanced to the counter, noting the badly chopped food and the sharp knife thrown haphazardly to the side.
"Right.. 'was cooking… while drunk…."
He felt thrown sideways, his most recent memories fuzzy like a fading dream. It was definitely a terrible idea to try to cook in this state. He distantly remembered being angry at someone. Who was I cursing out again? Was it Quackity?
"Probab'ly Quackity... That Bit'ch." The small red puddle where his arm laid was steadily growing larger as he thought.
"Nevr'mind," he decided, making his first good decision of the night, "need' the Firs' Aid Kit."
He stumbled over to the bathroom cabinet as fast as he could, not wanting to get even more blood all over the hardwood floors. He shuddered to think of the cleaning bills, instead shifting to focus more on the matter at hand. Taking a moment to properly look at the cut as he was cleaning it, he could see it was fucking deep. And pouring like a faucet too.
“Hope I don’ bleed out before gettin’ stitches. Jesus Christ, thas' bad...” There was more seriousness to the joke than he would’ve liked there to be. Especially with him taking so long to do anything about it.
"How much force was I usin' to cut that stupid cucumber?" He hissed out. Was it a cucumber? Carrot? Whatever he was cutting... Fuck, the blood loss was getting to him. The kitchen probably looked like a crime scene...
Schlatt tightly wrapped his hand in gauze before going to find a doctor or something. Were there even any doctors in Manburg? He didn’t care. He just needed somebody to help patch him up. Anybody thats still awake at this hour will do.
He tripped on the doorframe going out, landing face first on the cold floor with a loud groan. "Righ't, still piss ass' drunk…"
The tile got an earful of slurred curses and groans, and then he was gone. Shambling off into his city like a concussed sheep.
Niki was the one who ended up patching him up, he lowered her taxes just a little in thanks. Someone still had to support the country after all, and no one else was gonna pay taxes. It was only fair. And by fair he means funny.
Her cooking wasnt half bad either. He'll be paying a visit to that bakery a lot more often when he's drunk and hungry, that's for sure. Better than trying to make food himself again.