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‘How hard could it be to hit something with a pole arm’… He’d about literally had to eat those words. He hadn’t been able to hit at –all.

He wasn’t sure how much his heart had been in it, but he’d meant it when he punched the psychotic shadow b***h.

He was not a coward.

He really wasn’t… but there were just… things you couldn’t get away from and sometimes you had to take more drastic measures.

His throat still pounded where she’d tried to crush it, his chest ached, but that was doing a lot better thanks to his shield. The throat was… honestly the most stubborn part of this, it hurt to swallow, it hurt to breathe, it was getting better but my god it was pissing him off.

He felt –twitchy- and had far too much time to spend in his own head. So he’d posted on the message boards that he was here, because any company, even inquisitive company was better than his thoughts right now.

Healing Hands

“… Why is pink juvenile?” He asked confused, and tired…and resigned to flowered toenails. At least when he got out of here he might be able to turn up some nail polish remover.

“So…was calling her a b***h supposed to prove you were NOT being juvenile, or just that she’s offering unsolicited advice on what amount to…personal preferences.”

His accent got thicker when he was tired; it was leaning towards heavy, unsurprising since toenails were being painted.

“… are those, daisies?”

Healing Hands

“Just curious!” he put up his hand to ward off the fury of the infirmary Princess. Lord knew he didn’t want to wake up to a full make over and curled hair because he’d pissed her off.

“I was just…admiring the skill it takes to do that with nail polish.”

What Boredom?

"I am alive, I didn't loose any limbs, or eyes, or fingers... I'm just....really embarrassed." came a hoarse voiced reply. He was a little more than embarrassed he'd been 'lightly perforated' and she'd tried to turn his throat into a pancake, but she hadn't succeeded, always a plus.

"How you doing?" He asked, like Oliver was still the one here in a bed.

New Friend

Series of trivial noises could be heard outside the infirmary, if anyone was curious and checked the direction of the door, they might see something small roll across or their eyes meet with that of a laid down plushie. Followed by that was a light whine and a silhouette of a petite girl, her long hair was black - "Oh no......" The noises continued to echo in the long corridor as she picked things up. Hunters with sensitive hearings would distinguish there were plastic bags, plastic toys, heavy thump of paper pages and many. Many patients joined in out of curiosity, peeking at what was at the door.

Regardless how long it passed, the girl seemed to finally finished what she was doing. With the appearance of footsteps, she walked towards Zac with loads of stuff, most of her face hidden behind the towers of things she was holding: Several books at bottom then a thin rectangular box; on top of that some inflated bags and small boxes; in between her under-chin and that was a plush. The unnoticed items dropped on the floor left a path from the door all the way up to Zac's bed. "Hello, you're Zac? Mr. Wi-re-mu?" Not until she finished her words, her eyes rolled around on the hunter on bed as she unloaded her stuff on an empty space.

Even though he said he was alright on twitter, Shu was worried. The petite girl met with a hostile horseman knew how dangerous Haunted House could be as well as the loneliness and nightmares accompanied her through her days on the infirmary bed, after having a serious burn.

His throat was the most obvious of injury, bandaged. She poured him a glass of warm water and sat down on the chair. There must be some visitors already. "I've brought you some snacks, but it seems they won't be good for you....and some books and jenga - and a plush, it's soft and cuddly, best for sleeping." Shu felt a bit shy and awkward as a stranger, wetting her lips might be just one of the clues.

"So - how are you?"

What Boredom?

"These are amazing Mate." he said reverently.

"... Would you be mad... if I used some of these as ideas for a tattoo?" He said looking up with wide eyes. "I mean... something detailed like this and..." He waved his hand unable to immediately convey where his mind wanted to take the drawings.

"You're bloody good."

party time


"Thank's mate, nothing says questionable victory like...prolonging the inevitable right?" he said with JUST a little sarcasm. To be fair the popper surprising him like it had might have brought out the snark, but he didn't figure it would take much wind out of the new visitor's sails.

He eyed the bag somewhat suspiciously and then back to Horace.

"Congratulations on...party poppers?" He offered somewhat unsure what else to say to 'congrats on not dying'.

party time
"Weh, how gloomy. Not dying is great!" Horace hummed and rustled about in his bag for a second. A conical party hat was produced and set neatly on the bedside table - he noticed it was already covered with a few things, good. "I'm Horace, by the way." Onto the table went a bag of doritos as well, and Horace pulled out a garland (bought while out Christmas shopping). The garland was summarily attached to the end of Zac's bed - something cheerful, Horace thought determinedly.

He looked over at Zac, his eyes sharp although his grin was still pleasantly in place. "So - what went wrong in there?"