Atomic Underworld: Part One
““Is that all you can say?” She pulled another suture tight, cinching closed more of the wound along his ribs. His shirt and pants were off and he lay on her kitchen floor atop a towel that, while clean, had seen better days. He wore only his boxers and socks. With the hand not propping himself up he drank from a bottle of Urzan whiskey: thick like honey but with a smoky, almost clove-like flavor.
“That’s not even a straight line,” he said, eyeing the stitching.
She started to sew another st...itch, tugged on it. When he gasped, she smiled, “Now might not be the best time to complain.”
“Afterward will be too late. I thought I was the one that was drunk.”
“Not my fault you can’t pace yourself.”
“It damn well is.” He glanced at the ragged wound on his thigh, which she had already stitched up. Blood caked the towel underneath. “I wouldn’t drink so much if you could sew straight.”
“Maybe I like seeing you drunk.”MoreLess
“That’s not even a straight line,” he said, eyeing the stitching.
She started to sew another st...itch, tugged on it. When he gasped, she smiled, “Now might not be the best time to complain.”
“Afterward will be too late. I thought I was the one that was drunk.”
“Not my fault you can’t pace yourself.”
“It damn well is.” He glanced at the ragged wound on his thigh, which she had already stitched up. Blood caked the towel underneath. “I wouldn’t drink so much if you could sew straight.”
“Maybe I like seeing you drunk.”MoreLess
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