“Shit,” Nicholas grunts as he settles you down on the lid of the toilet seat of the bathroom that you two are currently occupying. The gunslinger was rushing, throwing his guns in the sink to keep them close by as the flickering light ahead fizzled out and back on again.

“Stay with me, don’t close your eyes unless you absolutely have to,” the man continues, fingers gripping the porcelain sink, stained with scarlet blood as dark fingers flipped the faucet on, the sound of pressured water filling the stall.

Nicholas’ dark eyebrows furrow as bloody hand search his black suit, hurriedly undoing grey button as he shucks the suit-jacket off. His fingers move to his white undershirt, tearing a piece of it off in one smooth movement. “Gotta disinfect it, stay with me,” the raven haired man grumbles out.

The feeling of water was soothed your wound, lodging the bullet slightly further into your abdomen, but Nicholas was focused more on you living rather than the pain. He jams a finger in, forcing the bullet out with large fingers, tossing it aside.

“How’re you feelin’, better?” the undertaker doesn’t wait for an answer as he immediately starts to wrap a makeshift tourniquet around you. “Gotta bite down: bite down on my hand.”