Bismuthite limped down the alley, a hand pressed against his bleeding shoulder. He'd just recently had to get away from a senshi whom he had been interrogating. The stupid thing. If she would have just given him an answer, neither of them would have gotten hurt. As it would turn out though, Bismuthite had gotten the worst part of it.

There had been many sleepless nights since his colleagues were taken by the Blood Moon Court. Bismuthiter - Billy - wasn't taking good care of himself, as evidenced by the scruff on his chin, his oily hair, and haggard, tired, appearance. And then to throw his everything in to the search effort, in to battle... Well, needless to say it wasn't the smartest thing to do. Still, it was all nothing compared to what the captives were facing now. At least Bismuthite got rest when he could. He got food, when he remembered to be hungry...

He wasn't coming out of this without scars of his own. Although most of them were to his ego, Bismuthite leaned against the alley wall and lifted his blood-covered hand to look at the wound to his shoulder. Earlier that week his legs had gotten pretty banged up too, and although the Negas healed fast, it still left scars. Light marks marring his caramel skin.
Each one was a reminder of what he was doing this for. Who. Who he was doing it for. He didn't really know most of them, so really this was all for Tanzanite and Wolframite. Everyone else was inconsequential to him.

Bismuthite grimaced at the wound. It was pretty bad, but he was getting better at tending his own wounds. Well, he cleaned and covered them at least. After that they were left to heal on their own. Perhaps that was why he scarred. Ladon wouldn't let them go that way though, he was sure of it. Ladon would have tended those wounds and seen that Billy did so to so they'd heal better. But Ladon wasn't here and god damnit it was because of him, now wasn't it?
The guilt was hitting him harder and harder as time went on. He'd actually broken down and cried on a couple of occasions. Curled up in his attic home, frustrated, fearful, panicked, full of yearning... Where was the person who had awakened him to this world? Where was his better half? Both were missing and his search was getting him nowhere.

Satisfied that the blood flow from the wound was now minimalized, Bismuthite let out a breath and slid down against the wall behind him. Thunder sounded. It had been sounding. Large rumbles that shook the sky. The occasional flash of lightening passed. As of yet, there was not rain. Not even the smallest drop. Not that he would have cared. Hell, it would have probably equated to the shower Billy needed very much. So long as someone would kindly supply some soap. Maybe a razor. Nah, mostly the soap.

Bismuthite went from sitting, then to laying on the nasty chipped asphalt. He was suddenly very, very tired. He needed sleep. He had been running on four hours of it for most of the day, and here the night was nearing 1am. Yes, sleep. Don't even worry about getting home. Just sleep, sleep. Bleed. Rest. Bismuthite gave way to Billy as consciousness slipped away, and with one more rumble and a flash of lightening across the sky, the rain began to fall.