[ How he finds his way to this address is a mystery; maybe he's tipped off by another well-meaning ImPort, maybe he just had his ear to the ground and knew what to listen for. Either way, Bradbury has no real idea of what he expects when he manages to stagger his way up to the house, spending a moment catching his breath before he knocks at the door.
He's half-wiped out between painkillers and blood loss, even if he has been patched up, and all he really wants is a place to crash for the night. Possibly even the next few days. His arm's been immobilized in a sling for the moment, lucky enough that the bullet just grazed his arm instead of going right through it.
Shoulder injuries are always a bitch, though. It's never as clean as it is in the movies. He leans against the doorframe, gritting his teeth. ]
no subject
He's half-wiped out between painkillers and blood loss, even if he has been patched up, and all he really wants is a place to crash for the night. Possibly even the next few days. His arm's been immobilized in a sling for the moment, lucky enough that the bullet just grazed his arm instead of going right through it.
Shoulder injuries are always a bitch, though. It's never as clean as it is in the movies. He leans against the doorframe, gritting his teeth. ]
Anybody home?