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Alternatives

"-Or-" Ripley said carefully, as if about to suggest a profound alternative to the current plan, despite his injuries making his otherwise calm voice hoarse and strained. "- You could not." He negotiated, weakly, the idea that Finn had promisingly threatened yesterday. It was a concept he had almost - almost - forgotten, but had been forced to remember as a certain someone appeared at his bed side.

Damnit.

Something akin to worry - at least he assumed it was worry, with the amount of drugs he was on, it could have also been pain from the once-gaping hole - bubbled in his stomach. Finn was already on a roll, and he had a feeling the sun wasn't even up yet.

Ripley let out a hiss of pain as his pillow disappeared on him, one that lingered as his head leaned back to hit the bed. Ow. Owww. He turned his aching head as best as he could, which was admittedly not very much, and leveled Finn's blurry shape with a lidded stare.

"You're a d**k. Give it back."

"Fine." Ripley let out an (already) long suffering sigh before trying to wet his lips with his tongue. He watched the blurry form worm and shift, and he assumed that the other man was getting comfortable. Well, sucks to him. He hoped there was blood on the pillow, if it hadn't already been thoroughly washed from his hair. He had gone unfocused for a moment, but tried to focus again as he felt a weight on the bed - Finn's feet, apparently.

"You're a d**k. Please give it back?" He corrected, asking nicely this time.

Alternatives

Fortunately for Finn, the pillow was clean. The infirmary was a boring and sometimes horrible place, but they didn't tend to make people wallow in their own blood and filth the entire time they were there. On top of that, despite his now less than desirable behaviour, Finn was looking out for the other man, and was being just as big of a pain in the infirmary techs a** as he was in Ripley's.

"What will you give me for it?" He asked, somewhat surprised that Ripley had given in and used the word please so quickly.

He sort of wanted to make a I hear souls are a hot commodity joke but kept it to himself.

Alternatives

"I won't use my call button." He suggested, the small device in his hand to flag a nearby tech if he needed help. Of course, he was simply assuming that 'help' also meant 'use of security', but hey, he could try. At the very least he could ask for another pillow, for make up for the one stolen by his boyfriend.

Friendship

Chel smiled weakly at Ripley's attempts. "Been there buddy, ********' been there." She let out a low whistle and said, "Don't push yerself, I ain't worth the effort."

She then presented her gifts, putting them on the bedside table. "Dunno if you can even use 'em but I brought a book and a rubix cube thing. Keep ya busy while you're here." It was a shoddy gift, but at least she'd brought one. "Ya need anything? Any favors run or anything?"

Mostly she was running off her own experiences in the infirmary. She didn't want to talk, she didn't want pity, she'd just wanted someone to do her errands when she couldn't move. "Or we can talk. Whatever yer broken a** needs."

Friendship

"Are so." Everyone was worth the effort. At least that's what the mild high from the pain killers told him. Even if he wasn't though, he likely would have said the same; everyone was worth the effort. Except for maybe Finn today, who was getting on his frazzled nerves.

His gaze shifted to see the blurry shapes that made up her gifts - it was a good thing she told him what they were, because while one looked like a book, the other one could have been a colourful candle or small box of kleenex for all he knew. Maybe even one of those chocolate oranges people gave out around Christmas. Either way, the gesture made a small smile form on his lips.

"Thanks. Really." Gratitude was clear in his strained voice. It'll definitely come in handy later; he imagined by tomorrow he'd be able to look into them, which would be great because he was also sure he'd be here for at least a week. Though her offer (offers, as it were) made him pause, as he considered his options. "Could you hide them for today?" It was a serious suggestion. "Bring them back tomorrow?"

You've Been Winchester'd


"SAMMY WHAT THE HELL."

This was the only sound to announce the arrival of a certain black haired hunter who promptly flung aside Ripley's curtains and stared down at him with all the woe and misery of a man distraught to find out his little brother friend was in the infirmary with near-death injuries.

"Okay, see," said Ian, with his hands on his hips as a plastic grocery bag swayed to and fro on one wrist. "This is totally not how I expected seeing you again was supposed to go."