| [May. 31st, 2009|07:17 pm] |
"Slave-driver," Natsumi accused, fumbling to hook her mask onto her belt. "We're b-both vertical. That's n-not enough?" Her shaking fingers skidded over the scrolls pouch on her left hip to find the med-kit in the pouch at the small of her back. It was unsurprisingly soggy, but the little plastic vial of soldier pills was still there. Natsumi popped the cap and dribbled two of the three pills into her gloved hand. They began to dissolve instantly. Wincing, she ate one and held the other up to Asuma.
Right arm still slung around her shoulders, left hand pressed to the bloody gash in his side, he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
The crisp outer coating of the pill was already turning to sludge on her wet glove. Natsumi's lips thinned, but she lifted her hand. He lipped the pill out of her palm as delicately as a lady choosing a seasonal sweet from a tray, without even brushing her crooked fingers.
"You're g-going to have to move anyway," Natsumi pointed out, capping the vial again and tucking it into her pouch. "Unless you p-plan on three-legged j-jumping. Which will take m-more chakra than it's worth."
The chemical burn of alien chakra was already brightening her own exhausted pathways, tingling painfully under her skin. She forced a little out of her core to warm frozen fingers and toes, and gathered the rest to her legs. False strength felt nothing at all like the real thing, but it would serve. |
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