#and when i do i am going to be a good little sew-er and tidy up my sewing supplies :)

[arsenicflame]

uh i definitely didn't forget that i wanted to do all my topstitching in contrast thread, no this was entirely intentional..........

anyway aside from that, ive pretty much assembled the corset as far as i can right now! this particular bit is the back lacing section, i freehanded all of this and i think i did pretty good!

[theshapeshifter100]

Guess What? I’m Not a Robot Ch36

Summary: Our team make it to safety, in a house we’ve seen before, just not in this story.

Chapter Warning: Blood, some alcohol but not consuming it.

Word Count: 1,668

9.45PM Thursday 11th November 2038

The military were still out and about in full force. Paul cursed his red polo shirt and the bright blanket that was wrapped around Megan, but there was nothing he could do now. Oscar was also hardly inconspicuous; they needed to find a hiding spot and soon. Ideally a doctor’s surgery.

They ducked into a residential street, full of low houses that all looked identical. Megan was started to shiver in her blanket and had shut her eyes.

“Megan, you need to stay awake,” Paul pleaded.

“Dizzy.”

Paul mentally cursed. That was the blood loss talking. He needed supplies, and somewhere to hide.

“That house has a broken window,” Oscar noted, pointing out a house that looked exactly the same as every other house. “Lights are off. No car.”

Paul looked at the house as they crossed the street towards it. A window on the right side of the house indeed broken. It was small though, Oscar wasn’t going to fit. Reluctantly he passed Megan to Oscar.

“I’ll open the door from the inside,” Paul informed Oscar before darting to the side of the house. Looking inside he felt a jolt of alarm when he spotted an enormous St Bernard on the kitchen floor. Thankfully, it appeared to be asleep.

Paul jumped up and grabbed the top of the window frame so that he could enter feet first. He landed lightly and went to the door, glancing at a clock as he did. It was just past ten at night, had it really taken them hours between here and Alex’s place? The time had gone so quickly.

Oscar ducked under the front door to get in, and settled Megan on the couch as Paul scouted the house for medical supplies. The whole house was a mess and the air stunk of old booze. It twitched at Paul’s old programming, and suddenly all he wanted to do was blitz the place.

No. You have another reason to be here.

He found the bathroom, and found a surprisingly well stocked medicine cabinet. He filtered through the first aid kit, stowing away some thick bandages before coming across a suture kit. It was old, but still sealed, which made a little sense in this alcohol riddled house.

He went back to the living room and found that Oscar had propped Megan’s legs up on the arm while her head lay on the cushions. Paul sat down on the floor and pulled down the blanket and shirt, revealing that blood was staining the bandages.

He removed the sling and began to peel off the bandages, which made the same sucking noise as her clothes did earlier. The wounds weren’t pumping out as much blood now; not that was much of a relief. Paul was worried how much blood there was left to the pump out.

He ripped open the suture pack, and doused them in alcohol from a nearby bottle of whiskey.

“I’m going to start sewing,” he informed Megan, who hopefully still couldn’t feel much pain. “It might hurt, but I’m going to be as quick as I can.”

Megan nodded, still awake thankfully. Oscar disappeared to find the central heating as Paul began to sew, quickly and efficiently. He had assisted the elder Beckwith with her sewing in the past, and found this not much different.

Within a few minutes both wounds were stitched up, although little could be done about the wound between them. Paul quickly applied fresh bandages, and put the sling back on. After all that, he finally let himself relax. It wasn’t perfect. Hypervolemic shock was still a possibility and she might need a blood transfusion. However, for now, it was okay.

“How do you feel?” he asked her.

“Still dizzy,” she admitted. “I can hear better now.”

“Good,” Paul checked the bandage at her temple, which seemed fine. “You just rest, but try and stay awake for as long as you can.”

Oscar returned at that point.

“Heating’s on,” he informed.

“Thanks, can you watch Megan? I’m going to see if there’s any food.”

Oscar sat on the opposite arm of the sofa as Paul went back into the kitchen. It was a mess, with old take out cartons on the table and a trash bag waiting to be taken outside. Paul was once again struck by the urge to tidy up, but he ignored it. This wasn’t his problem.

Carefully, so not to wake up the dog, which snored as if the end of the world wouldn’t wake it, Paul made his way to the fridge. Finding nothing other than leftovers and beer he turned his attention to the cupboards. There he had more luck; an old bag of pasta and tinned tomatoes. It would do.

He eyed the hob and wrinkled his nose in distaste. It looked like it hadn’t been used in a long time. Irritably he grabbed some kitchen towel, wetted it, and wiped down the hob before finding a pot and set it to boil.

He got a second pan, smaller, and poured a little oil in it before putting it on a low heat. He poured the tin of tomatoes in to gently warm, and waited for the original pot to boil before adding pasta.

Roughly ten minutes later he brought through two plates of pasta to Oscar and Megan, remembering that the football player was human and also needed food. He passed the larger plate to him and sat on the floor by Megan. She looked a bit more aware now thankfully. She did not appear to be going further into shock, so maybe they wouldn’t have to worry about a hospital after all. Provided that the injury to her head didn’t pop up with something worse.

Megan, seeing the food, moved her feet down so that she get herself in a better position. She fought to get her right arm free from the blanket cocoon and used it to prop herself into an upright position. As she did this Paul watched, trying to gauge her mood to see if he would make things better or worse if he tried to help.

Once she was in an upright sitting position Paul passed her the plate, which sat on her knees as she began to eat.

“How do you feel?” Paul asked, and Megan shrugged lopsidedly.

“Warm, not that hungry,” she admitted, chasing pasta on her plate. “Not so dizzy anymore.”

“Good,” Paul rocked back on his heels. He had a burning question, but managed to wait until Megan had placed her plate on the arm of the couch.

“Megan Violet Carroll,” he started, and Megan instantly stiffened at the use of her full name. “What the hell were you thinking jumping in front of a gun like that?”

Megan didn’t answer immediately. What had she been thinking? She had fully expected to lie there and watch it happen, out of fear if nothing else. Yet, she had done something. She, Megan Carroll, had made a difference and saved someone’s life!

The full weight of that hit hard. She had saved the life of someone the military wanted dead.

Megan took a long breath, somehow on a high from that. Maybe she was turning into an adrenaline junkie.

“I, I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just saw you, and I didn’t even think. There was no thought process. I just did it.”

Oscar was the one who seemed to fill in the blanks, swallowing his mouthful of pasta.

“You saw someone you cared about in a dangerous position and you acted to protect them. That’s all you need to know.”

“You got hurt though,” Megan nodded to the small drying blue stain on his shirt, and he shrugged easily.

“I’ve run a diagnostic. The damage is cosmetic.”

“Okay,” Megan let out a sigh of relief before reaching for her food again. “Do we know who’s house this is?”

“Er, no,” Paul was not equipped with face scanning so he had no idea who the young boy was in the photo. “An alcoholic I guess.”

“Who has a dog,” Oscar added.

“Who has a dog,” Paul found it miraculous that the beast hadn’t woken up yet.

“There’s a dog?” Megan sat up a little straighter.

“Yes, a St Bernard. I don’t know their name because their tag is buried in their fur.”

“Do you not like dogs?” Megan asked, a mischievous grin forming.

“I am wary of animals much larger than an average house cat,” Paul shifted uncomfortably, and Megan stifled a laugh behind her right hand.

“Oh, that’s adorable,” she sniggered, and Paul glared.

“The beast in the kitchen is large enough for you to ride.”

“It’ll save you carrying me,” she grinned. “I can ride them into battle!” she declared with faux bravado.

“A terrifying image to be sure,” Paul agreed seriously, and even Oscar was smiling.

“St Bernard’s are pretty soppy dogs. Look scary, but aren’t,” he assured, and Paul shrugged, making sure he could see the dog out of the corner of his eye.

Once the two finished eating, and Paul made sure Megan ate everything, he collected their plates and began to wash up. Given that there were some dirty plates around, he added those to the sink.

“Are you sure you should be washing up in someone else’s house?” Oscar asked, the living room and kitchen right next to each other.

“I won’t leave a job half done,” Paul defended and Oscar looked over at Megan.

“Yeah, that’s how he is. Whenever I offer to help he always insists that it’s fine.”

“It’s what I’m designed for!” Paul protested, then froze as the dog let out snort. Everyone fell silent as the dog rolled over, and continued to snore.

“Some guard dog,” Megan smirked before settling back on the couch.

Paul decided to not mention the amount of relief he felt when the dog fell back asleep. He did not want to subject himself to more of Megan’s teasing.

So, yeah, take a wild guess on whose house they ended up in. Yes, we will meet the occupant.

Other Options Flowchart

(Paul) Pick a different house. (Key for a hidden/rare ending)

(Paul) Tell off. Blow it off. Thank Megan.

Tags! @nightmarejim @septicart-appreciation