| [Jun. 14th, 2009|07:02 pm] |
"Sure," Asuma croaked. "Let's set me on fire while we're at it."
He would have sold his soul for an aspirin. Just moving his arm had been a struggle. Everything was connected to his back, and right now his back seemed to be connected to a live volcano. He was half convinced that if he tried to move, he'd melt a hole through the ship's hull and drown.
But Tsume had been lashed--not as much, but definitely enough--and she wasn't whining. She was just a tracker; he was supposed to be the freakin' muscle.
"Don't suppose you could chew through seals?" he suggested dryly, as he steeled himself. The wall was maybe three feet away. He just had to get up, crawl, and lie down again. It'd take eight seconds. He was a ninja.
It would have been a lot easier to remember that if he'd had his head-band. Or his bracelets. Or his trench knives.
Hell, a cigarette.
Out of the corner of his eye, ANBU's scarlet mark swirled its way through deep bruises, standing out livid against his biceps. He could see the same mark on Tsume's arm, older and faded and scarred through.
"When we get out of here," he muttered, lifting his arm from her back and setting his palm against the floor, "I'm going to throttle both of those bastards with that whip. Then you can rip them apart. Then we're going for dinner, you and I. Somewhere--" a hiss slid between gritted teeth as he pulled his other arm free, bracing that hand flat on the floor, "--fancy."
He pushed himself up.
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