Re: log: dylan & max (daniel & lin too)
[Lin met the metal towel rack, the sturdy one for handicap assistance, and he hated it. The introduction was terrible and also it was aimed at his spine. Usually, he was fine with ass-to-face meetings, but this was altogether different. He didn't scream or yell, because he had too much practice purposefully making himself shut up when he was in pain (his dad said if he did that, the other kids would get less joy out of hurting him. It turned out that, no, it just made them try harder, but it was still ingrained)—but he did manage to swear like a sailor whose lumbar vertebrae were necessary, even cherished parts of their body, before he dropped to the floor.
From there, he kicked at Dylan's legs when the man tried to escape, aiming all of his weight at Dylan's Achille's tendons and the fragile bones of his ankles.] Fucking—jack-ass—get—the—fuck—out! [He didn't notice the gun, honestly, not until the bathroom was cleared of the fuckwit, and it was just him and Daniel, both against opposite walls, with Max there.
His skin was sand-pale, and clearly, his spine felt like shit. But he didn't fucking squeak. No. What he did do was rip his shoe off his foot and throw it at Dylan's head when he bustled to the door. Unfortunately, it was half a second too late, and it hit the nurse coming in in the neck.] Sorry! [The boy struggled to his feet, using the abusive railing as a support now. He held an arm out in case Daniel wanted it while he looked at Max.] Your boyfriend's a dick. But, thanks for coming.