He pulls off. Staggers up the rest of the way, weight shifted to throw in again. If Barrow twitches too hard. If Abby can't hold him.
"The fuck was that about —"
Wheezed. The words crack, and he knows when he spits he'll see blood; same as he knows exactly the fuck that was about. Goddamn fool's errand is what. Lazar doesn't often inch his face far: Light, and easy, and a scowl at most. Only now he looks ready to put someone through a wall, and it needn't be the man retching below.
A glance over his shoulder at last lays name to head injury. Clarisse. Mark of esteem that he doesn't walk out then and there, but stoops to her side.
Alive, yeah. Unconscious, yeah. And between her, and Anderson, and the vanished ponce; that's half the Infirmary staff down. So,
"Get her out of here," Somewhere. Anywhere, like he should know, like any of this is his mess to clean. Lazar props a hand behind her skull, feeling for softness. For a familiar fracture. "I'll hold this down."
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"The fuck was that about —"
Wheezed. The words crack, and he knows when he spits he'll see blood; same as he knows exactly the fuck that was about. Goddamn fool's errand is what. Lazar doesn't often inch his face far: Light, and easy, and a scowl at most. Only now he looks ready to put someone through a wall, and it needn't be the man retching below.
A glance over his shoulder at last lays name to head injury. Clarisse. Mark of esteem that he doesn't walk out then and there, but stoops to her side.
Alive, yeah. Unconscious, yeah. And between her, and Anderson, and the vanished ponce; that's half the Infirmary staff down. So,
"Get her out of here," Somewhere. Anywhere, like he should know, like any of this is his mess to clean. Lazar props a hand behind her skull, feeling for softness. For a familiar fracture. "I'll hold this down."
He wants a word with Barrow.