I need new clothes, I need somewhere to stay

[salamanca]

Who: Lalo Salamanca and YOU.
What: Lalo comes back from his travels with Methuselah badly injured.
When: January 29th thru the next week or so after
Where: Around town. See individual prompts.

Content Warnings: Description of injury, blood, and infection; others tba.

See individual prompts in the starters below.

Comments

[salamanca]

Non. Mexican.

You're Irish? [ Usually, he'd have more to say, but he's exhausted. ]

[bestsir]

Ah. I apologise—I had forgotten about the Americas.

[ Goodsir smiles. ]

I'm Scottish. I got my education in Edinburgh, and grew up in a small town across the Firth.

[salamanca]

Ayy, Scottish! [ Scottish, Irish. Same thing, right? Lalo smiles quietly to himself. ]

I guess the better question, considering where we are now, might be when you are from.

[bestsir]

1. [ Funny how he's ... accustomed to this question now. ]

I was part of an expedition to the Arctic, commanded by Sir John Franklin. There are several others from that expedition here as well.

[salamanca]

[ Lalo's an educated man, so that rings a bell. He stares at Goodsir, a little incredulously. ]

Wait. No shit?

[bestsir]

[ A very small smile. ]

Indeed. You ... you know of us?

[salamanca]

[ Lalo waves off the question with his good, non-injured hand. ]

Only a little bit. I'm no expert. But you should know that knowledge of your expedition lives on. In the future.

[ Technically all of that is true, anyway. ]

Ah... I hope you can forgive me, I think I could use some rest now, actually. [ He lays all the way down and closes his eyes. ] But, Mr. Goodsir, you are a friend of the cartel now. [ Lalo opens his eyes long enough to smile at him, before he closes them again. He's exhausted. But he does keep speaking with his eyes closed. ]

If you ever need me to "take care" of somebody, you just let me know. Just tell me who and what you want done, and I'll set him straight, no questions asked. [ Or her, it's an equal opportunity offer, but Goodsir doesn't seem like the type to sic a cartel don on a lady. ]

[bestsir]

[ For just an instant, the name Cornelius Hickey forms in Goodsir's mind. The prospect of having the man removed from this place, or even just beaten to within an inch of his life (again), is so tempting that it actually shocks him a little. He goes visibly pale, appalled at himself more than at Lalo, and looks away. ]

That's not a favour I should ever wish to call ... but I shall take the offer in the spirit in which it is meant.

[ He looks back with a shaky, awkward smile. ]

Go rest, Mr. Salamanca. And if you have further trouble, seek me out.

[salamanca]

[ Lalo nods, pale, and leans back, closing his eyes. ]

Goodnight, Doctor. Thank you for your help.