(2018-11-22) A Turkey In Hospital
Willow rushes to the hospital to see an injured Everett. Since it's Thanksgiving, she is wearing a turkey outfit. As you do.

Oh what a night. With it being almost 24 hours after he'd been stabbed and shot, Everett's been moved from the ER area up to a normal patient room. He's only being kept for observation and will be released tomorrow morning. As for now, he's lying in the bed in his hospital room, watching TV absently. They've unhooked the IV and stuff, so now he's just waiting, counting the hours until he can go home. His right arm is in a sling and there are bandages around his left forearm and thigh. At the moment, he's only wearing the hospital gown, because it's a hospital. But, he does have several blankets on, obscuring the wound on his leg. Otherwise, he looks pretty normal, if a little disgruntled.

Willow was at a Thanksgiving dinner being hosted by Calvin Shay (rock star). Everett was supposed to be there too but he never showed up for the lift to the house. Willow was hurt a little but so be it. While at the dinner, she did some checking on her phone and was horrified to discover that her boyfriend had been shot! And stabbed! And probably punched too!

Willow has rushed straight to the hospital. That she didn't stop for anything is plainly obvious by the way she bursts into the room…wearing a turkey costume. "Everett!!" she squeaks, blowing the comb of the costume away from her face before she rushes over to give him a hug. Slings and bandages ignored as she squeezes him. "Oh my gosh! Are you okay! Are you dead? Don't be dead" she pleads, lip wobbling, tearstains on her cheeks.

When Willow barges into his room in a turkey costume, Everett just stares at her for a second. Which might be why she wonders if he's dead. But, when she grabs him and squeezes, he yelps out in pain, very clearly not dead. "Careful, careful," he advises, wincing in pain when she finally does loosen her grip on him. "I ain't dead, shorty. Why you think I was dead?" he asks, a bemused look on his face as he puts off asking about the costume.

Willow breathes out a sigh of relief to discover that Everett is not dead, though she does check his temperature. "The news said you had been shot, stabbed, kicked, punched, and who knows what else. How could you not be dead after all that? Though I guess you are pretty tough…and all the muscles. That would have helped." She plonks herself on the edge of the bed, giant turkey feet shoes hanging above the ground. Willow looks for a hand she can hold and does so with both of hers.

Everett shakes his head, a soft smirk on his face as Willow goes over what she got from the news. "Nah, just punched, shot and stabbed. But, I'm okay, 'low. It's not life threatening at all. Not even gonna slow me down, once I'm all healed up," he explains. When she takes his hand, he gives hers a squeeze and then has to ask the obvious question. "So … why a turkey costume?"

"Bullets don't even slow you down?" Willow asks, quite surprised at this revelation. She knew he was a hero, but she didn't realise he was a superhero! "We need to get you a costume then. Not like mine, a proper superhero costume." With a smile she slips off the bed and does a spin. "Do you like it? It's Thanksgiving, so why wouldn't I dress up as a turkey? Though when I was eating some before I got here, I did wonder if that made me a cannibal. But since I am a human inside, I decided I didn't. Though does a human inside a turkey mean the turkey was a man-eater?" A sigh as she sits back on the bed. "Life is so hard. When do you get to go home?"

Everett shakes his head and chuckles quietly, watching Willow spin around. "Well, for one, cuz most folks don't wear costumes to dinner, 'less its a costume party. Which Thanksgiving normally ain't," he explains. And then he stops, laughs again and shakes his head some more. "You know what? Never mind. Why /wouldn't/ you wear a turkey costume?" he agrees. He takes a deep breath to still the laughing, since it was getting dangerously close to painful levels. "And if anything, bullets made me run faster. Can't outrun a bullet, though. Doc says I was lucky it was a pistol and it didn't hit a bone or anything. So, there's that. And they're gonna release me in the morning, they just monitoring me now. Makin' sure them stitches stay and stuff, I guess."

"Out in the morning? After a gunshot wound? Wow, the hospitals really are overcrowded these days" Willow muses before leaning over to plant a kiss on Everett's lips. "Where did it happen? The Heights? I guess I should also ask, 'why?'. Were you walking on the wrong street or something? Tell me all about it. I can use my dick skills to find them and kick their asses! No one hurts my boyfriend but me…did that come out right? Are your parents okay?"

"No, it's just not /serious/, 'low. Like I said," Everett argues. And then he's being kissed, after which he sighs. And then Willow starts asking a bunch of questions. Everett shakes his head. "Willow, no. You're /not/ getting involved in this. These guys, they're serious. So just let me handle it, okay? I'm serious," he says. And he looks like it, too.

Willow pouts at the admonishment to keep her nose out of things. "And how are you going to take care of it?" she asks. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping clean and out of trouble? Why were you even in the Heights…on foot. They're all jealous of you down there." A sigh of her own. "Though everybody should be allowed to walk everywhere. I don't want you getting in trouble, E. Or getting hurt again. That would make me sad."

"I was heading /home/," Everett answers, shaking his head. "I just … I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I ain't see 'em until it was too late. Won't happen again." He sighs again when Willow asks the million dollar question. "And I don't /know/ how I'm gonna handle it. I just know I'll have to. Right now, I'm just gonna make sure I don't go back home for a while. I'll figure /something/ out to fix things." Everett's brow furrows as he glares down at the bed, frustrated.

"But you don't have to handle anything. That is what the police are for. Or trained dicks like me. You don't need to drag yourself down to their level" Willow smiles warmly. "You're gonna be an awesome football player and make lots of money and get your parents out of the Heights and into a real nice place. You can't do that if you try and do a Bruce Willis and go all 'Death Wish'. Did you see that movie?" She takes his hands, squeezing them. "Promise me that you'll stay out of trouble and don't do anything stupid. That's what I'm for."

"The police haven't done anything," Everett says, frowning again and shaking his head more. "I mean, they been knowing these fools gunnin' for me since I copped that deal. Ain't arrest the dudes who jumped me in high school. Ain't go'n do nothin' now." When she takes his hand again, Everett looks at her, but then looks away again. "That's not what you're for, Willow! That's what I'm sayin'. Ain't nobody /can/ handle this but me! And I ain't fittin' ta do nothin' /stupid/. I just … I just gotta figure out what I /can/ do."

"Then do nothing. The next bullet might not be so lucky. There's an old saying, 'Before you go out and seek vengeance, dig two graves'. I think that is because there are two people they have to kill, but you'd have to dig three or something. And who wants to dig graves? What about that nice Officer Martinez, or that Sergeant Payne? You don't think they want to do something? They don't think they care about you?" A deep breath. "E…I already lost a best friend to these kind of people. I don't want to lose my boyfriend. Doesn't what I want mean anything?"

Not knowing the reference, either, Everett is just as confused as Willow seems to be by the saying. "That's just it, Willow. You lost a friend. They 'bout killed me. And now, I can't even go back to visit my parents without lookin' over my shoulder? Without keeping my head down and sneakin' like /I'm/ the one who did something wrong?" he says. He shakes his head and looks away from Willow, again. "Look, maybe it's better … I dunno. Maybe you'd be safer if you weren't my girl. I already got my parents to worry about. You from the Heights, too. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"You don't have to sneak, just don't walk around in the middle of the night. No one in the Heights does that without a gang" Willow giggles. But then stuff gets unusually serious, and poor Willow looks confused. "Huh? Exactly, I'm from the Heights and I know how to look after myself. What difference would it make if I was your girl or not?" She reaches over to ruffle his scalp. "We're awesome together, which means we'll get through it with no probs whatsoever. Don't say silly things like that."

Everett looks up at Willow after she ruffles his hair. "If you're my girl, then you got a target on your back, too. Because they can hurt me by hurting you. /That's/ what difference it makes. If you ain't my girl, they ain't got no reason to mess with you," he responds. He looks away again, looking very sad. "I don't know. I just know that I can't /protect/ you right now."

"That's okay, I'm not asking you to protect me" Willow shrugs. "And once they meet me, they'll know that hurting me won't make one jot of difference. Not even an iota. It's all cool." She gives him another hug, more delicately this time, followed by a lingering kiss to his cheek. "See, one less thing to worry about."

The hug and kiss don't really seem to do very much to comfort him, but he does raise his good arm up to hug her back. "I don't know how you can say it wouldn't make a difference. If they hurt you … or my parents … if they did something to either of y'all because of me …. That's when you'd see me get stupid, /real/ quick." He looks at Willow, searching her face, his brow furrowed. "Look, you barely even /know/ me. We only been together for like, a couple weeks now. Wouldn't you rather just not have to worry about me? I mean, if we wasn't together, you wouldn't have nothin' to lose," he offers.

"Ummm…I'd lose you" Willow points out. "You think I would stop caring for you because you weren't my boyfriend anymore? I'm not that kind of person, Everett" she grins, before wheels start turning and her eyes narrow in thought. "Do you want to dump me, E? Is that what you really want to do? Is it because I wanted to have sex? If that's what you want to do, then just say it. Still won't stop me worrying about you."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License