Clark and the stranger were talking something about a clinic, which he supposed he should have been more interested in but it was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate on what was going on around him. Now that he'd stopped forcing himself to keep moving, had stopped being afraid of talking to others because of how Grell had scared him, all he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep - really sleep, rather than the powered down but still constantly working rest of his species. His eyes drifted closed almost of their own accord and he slumped back against the wall despite the pain from his wounds. He was most likely succumbing to the blood loss, he realised distantly. He needed to make an effort to stay awake but it was just... too much right now.
Clark was talking to him, so Brainiac 5 forced himself to concentrate on what he was saying, even managing to open his eyes a bit. "I... believe so..." He licked his lips, wishing there was something to drink on hand while another part of his mind noted with detached interest the symptoms of shock and blood loss. "It should be easy to follow back though," he said with another faintly hysterical giggle. "I've probably left a trail..." His eyes flicked to the blood stains on his shirt and hands, and he was vaguely surprised to see how much there actually was. It must have been a small miracle of sorts for him to have even made it this far.
But then Clark was leaning forward to gently take hold of him and before Brainiac 5 had a chance to wonder what he was doing, the other man was saying something about 'on three' and taking a hold of the scalpel lodged in his left shoulder. The pressure alone was enough to make him flinch and tense up and then the man suddenly pulled. Intellectually Brainiac 5 knew the scalpel needed to be removed and the injury treated, but that didn't stop him from shrieking at the sudden, white-hot pain that lanced through him and instinctively struggling weakly against Clark's hands. But he was too drained to fight for long, collapsing back down and gulping for air with shuddering breaths. His right hand was clutching at Clark's shirt, he realised, and was leaving bloody marks there from where Grell had stabbed him with another scalpel. "...sorry," he whispered, but couldn't seem to convince the hand to unclench.
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Clark was talking to him, so Brainiac 5 forced himself to concentrate on what he was saying, even managing to open his eyes a bit. "I... believe so..." He licked his lips, wishing there was something to drink on hand while another part of his mind noted with detached interest the symptoms of shock and blood loss. "It should be easy to follow back though," he said with another faintly hysterical giggle. "I've probably left a trail..." His eyes flicked to the blood stains on his shirt and hands, and he was vaguely surprised to see how much there actually was. It must have been a small miracle of sorts for him to have even made it this far.
But then Clark was leaning forward to gently take hold of him and before Brainiac 5 had a chance to wonder what he was doing, the other man was saying something about 'on three' and taking a hold of the scalpel lodged in his left shoulder. The pressure alone was enough to make him flinch and tense up and then the man suddenly pulled. Intellectually Brainiac 5 knew the scalpel needed to be removed and the injury treated, but that didn't stop him from shrieking at the sudden, white-hot pain that lanced through him and instinctively struggling weakly against Clark's hands. But he was too drained to fight for long, collapsing back down and gulping for air with shuddering breaths. His right hand was clutching at Clark's shirt, he realised, and was leaving bloody marks there from where Grell had stabbed him with another scalpel. "...sorry," he whispered, but couldn't seem to convince the hand to unclench.