Noise, there was only noise. Static, lots of static. Fuzzy images, too, and Patrick had no idea where he could be. Someone was saying something, loudly and---he opened his mouth to let out a gasp before he opened his eyes. It hurt to open his eyes, but what hurt even more was his chest. His chest really hurt, and with the little strength he could muster, Patrick heaved a great sigh. Something--spit out in front of him, and his chin lolled down to his chest in time to see that the gaping hole in the front of his robes was spewing blood.
Well, that sucked.
Patrick blinked furiously, trying to get his eyes back into focus to figure out what the fuck was stabbing him in the chest. There were robes hanging from the long, metal----was that a bloody robe rack? Did he have a robe rack impaled into his chest? Why would---where was he?
The calling of his name grew louder, and Patrick could only lift his gaze to the figure screaming at him. She---that was...he felt her name at the tip of his tongue, but he could barely open his mouth to try and figure out who she was. He let out another gasp, trying not to breath too hard because apparently, that caused blood to spurt out onto the nice robes.
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