Do you breathe the name of your saviour in your hour of need?
Who: Megamind (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
notpredictable ) and Ark (sympathyforblue )
What: After Roxanne escapes from the lair, Megamind gives into his guilt and patches Ark up.
Where: Evil Lair
Between the two of them, Megamind and Miss Ritchi had actually managed to knock Ark out. He had laid splayed out on the floor of the lair for a good ten minutes before he started to come back to consciousness and when he did, he almost wished he hadn't; his broken hand seemed to pulse with pain, enough to make even him - with his heightened pain tolerance inherited from his original - feel sick from the intensity of it. Of course, his entire head, especially his nose, seemed to have been attacked by hammers - or, at least, what he imagined that would be like - making thinking beyond the most basic level impossible.
Even basic thought, though, told him he shouldn't have woken up. He had been unconscious, for the love of science; what the hell had stopped his original and Miss Ritchi finishing the job off? Had they gotten squeamish? It wouldn't surprise him, but he knew neither of them were too squeamish to at least tie him up. Was he tied up? No, a quick - and painful - wriggle of his extremities told him he was free.
It made no sense and given that he was in too much pain to so much as open his eyes at this precise moment - if he wasn't already dead or bound, he supposed there was no immediate danger - he couldn't assess the situation for himself.
Ark did know one thing, though; he despised mysteries.
notpredictable ) and Ark (sympathyforblue )What: After Roxanne escapes from the lair, Megamind gives into his guilt and patches Ark up.
Where: Evil Lair
Between the two of them, Megamind and Miss Ritchi had actually managed to knock Ark out. He had laid splayed out on the floor of the lair for a good ten minutes before he started to come back to consciousness and when he did, he almost wished he hadn't; his broken hand seemed to pulse with pain, enough to make even him - with his heightened pain tolerance inherited from his original - feel sick from the intensity of it. Of course, his entire head, especially his nose, seemed to have been attacked by hammers - or, at least, what he imagined that would be like - making thinking beyond the most basic level impossible.
Even basic thought, though, told him he shouldn't have woken up. He had been unconscious, for the love of science; what the hell had stopped his original and Miss Ritchi finishing the job off? Had they gotten squeamish? It wouldn't surprise him, but he knew neither of them were too squeamish to at least tie him up. Was he tied up? No, a quick - and painful - wriggle of his extremities told him he was free.
It made no sense and given that he was in too much pain to so much as open his eyes at this precise moment - if he wasn't already dead or bound, he supposed there was no immediate danger - he couldn't assess the situation for himself.
Ark did know one thing, though; he despised mysteries.
