ext_12572: (George WTF Is Wrong With You?)
ext_12572 ([identity profile] sinanju.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] crossing_lostrp 2006-08-28 08:17 am (UTC)

[George] Sitting Ducks (tag Quentin, open)

The first George knew of the trouble was the sudden staccato blare of an automatic weapon behind her. She spun to see what was happening. The first round hit George in the small of her back. The second caught her in the side. The third round went between her breasts.

George stumbled backward, tripped over someone and felt back against a table. She clutched at the table's edge, caught herself and stood up again.

"Son. Of. A. Bitch!" George bellowed, her voice lost in the general chaos, glancing down at the bloody ruin of another shirt. "Goddammit!"

The shooting stopped. George looked up. The shooter was down, Ripley sprawled on top of him apparently intent on choking the life from him. Others were down too. Damon and Quentin had both been hit. Several others were down as well, but by choice, mostly with guns bristling.

"Shit, George!" Blaise laid a hand on her shoulder. "Are you..." Blaise started to ask. His voice trailed off and George knew he was remembering who--and what--she was. Of course she was okay.

"I'm fine," George said. "Go help somebody who needs it."

Blaise nodded agreement. He slapped something into George's hand. "I'll do that," he said. "And you can help. Hold this. I'll have my hands full."

George looked down at the first aid kit Blaise had produced. She wondered where it had come from. How very Boy Scout of him to keep it handy. But Blaise was crouching down beside Quentin to examine his wound.

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