If I don't assure them that Pretty Boy isn't infected, that might kill all of our chances of staying. They'd want to throw us out, and hell, that wouldn't go well.
Because I wouldn't go anywhere or budge. And then, they'd try to fight me and Jesus fucking Christ, it'd be a grave mistake.
They'd pay with their lives for that stupid decision. I might end up killing them both. Or eat them.
"He's not. But if I don't stop the bleeding, he might die. Or his wound might get infected, and then we'll have a bigger problem." I assure them firmly.
There is a deafening silence.
I can see the hesitation. The uncertainty.
They don't want to help. But they don't want to leave a dying guy in their living room either.
The girl with the gun shifts slightly. "And if we say no?"
I exhale, rolling my eyes, but keeping my voice even. "Then I'll do it anyway. Right here. On your floor. Either way, I'm stopping the bleeding."
They exchange another look.
