Nausea fought against his idea of movement beyond laying down to sleep, but Gumshoe's willpower fought harder, managing to send the little girl flying a second time as he kicked her in the stomach. He wasn't really thinking properly by this point; the blood loss was to blame. He knew, though, that Mr. Edgeworth was in a grave state, and if fleeing would help their situation, he was all for it.
He knelt next to the prosecutor, a hand worriedly shaking the unscathed shoulder. Quickly checking the man's pulse, trying his best not to panic (for Mr. Edgeworth's sake!), he-
--
The detective sat bolt upright, colliding with the nurse who was bending over the mattress, daring to observe her patient's condition. Rubbing his forehead, (the unfortunate point of collision), he bombarded the woman with one apology too many. Another nurse entered upon hearing the fuss from outside, a pair of icepacks in her hand as if to claim this was destiny when caring for 'Mr. Coleman'.
He had a lot to think about today, which is why he shoved the pens and notebook into his pocket. It felt like he'd skipped something vital before his nurse (holding the medi-pack to her cheek) asked if he was hurting. He gave a quick glance at the bulky shirt beneath his jacket, bandages binding his neck, chest, shoulder... it was truly remarkable how fast they'd patched him up! If that dull throbbing from the wound wasn't there to bug him, he'd have presumed he'd been miraculously 'healed' like that kid!
First thing's first – Mr. Edgeworth. Imagining the man had identical bandages to him, it was easier than usual to spot his cravat-less colleague in the cafeteria. He loaded his tray with whatever, hesitated, frowned... and then finally decided to approach.
"Sir! I'm so sorry! If I'd known she was rabid, I'd 'a shooed her away!" He didn't sit, nor place his food on the table, stagnant where he was for the moment... with his tray balanced dangerously on one hand as his other held the icepack to his forehead. It seemed he had yet to notice the boy.
no subject
He knelt next to the prosecutor, a hand worriedly shaking the unscathed shoulder. Quickly checking the man's pulse, trying his best not to panic (for Mr. Edgeworth's sake!), he-
The detective sat bolt upright, colliding with the nurse who was bending over the mattress, daring to observe her patient's condition. Rubbing his forehead, (the unfortunate point of collision), he bombarded the woman with one apology too many. Another nurse entered upon hearing the fuss from outside, a pair of icepacks in her hand as if to claim this was destiny when caring for 'Mr. Coleman'.
He had a lot to think about today, which is why he shoved the pens and notebook into his pocket. It felt like he'd skipped something vital before his nurse (holding the medi-pack to her cheek) asked if he was hurting. He gave a quick glance at the bulky shirt beneath his jacket, bandages binding his neck, chest, shoulder... it was truly remarkable how fast they'd patched him up! If that dull throbbing from the wound wasn't there to bug him, he'd have presumed he'd been miraculously 'healed' like that kid!
First thing's first – Mr. Edgeworth. Imagining the man had identical bandages to him, it was easier than usual to spot his cravat-less colleague in the cafeteria. He loaded his tray with whatever, hesitated, frowned... and then finally decided to approach.
"Sir! I'm so sorry! If I'd known she was rabid, I'd 'a shooed her away!" He didn't sit, nor place his food on the table, stagnant where he was for the moment... with his tray balanced dangerously on one hand as his other held the icepack to his forehead. It seemed he had yet to notice the boy.