[Luckily (or not), there's no directed attention from the shambles of the parlor as they make for the door - no last ditch knife trying to find them, no suspicion persons staring at them from across the crumbled gaming parlor floor. It's just fear: that wailing sound, the choked noise of the anti-inflammatory powder hissing out from their ports, the stale tang of chemical aftermath in the air.
There's nothing waiting on the other side of the door either which is lucky for them or simply thoughtless on the part of whoever had planted the bomb. At their urging, Kun-Kun and his reps limp their way through the back door into a long hallway, the emergency light flickering unsteadily. Maybe a moment ago this would've been a slick back hall, track lit and vaguely neon on the way to some VIP gaming rooms and administrative offices. Now it's just a ramshackle hallway with a door at the end of it.]
The motorcade's out back. Come on. [Kun-Kun's firm enough about that, even if he seems distracted by keeping his hand clamped around the wrist of his representative, encouraging the broader man to keep his hand firmly on the wound.] There's a first aid kit there too. I think. Uh--
[His second rep, a middle aged woman with her hair worn long nods:] I'll get the door? [and extends her stride, running in her heels - CLACK CLACK CLACK - to the exit at the end of the hall. The noise is strangely loud, the chaos behind them oddly muffled.]
no subject
There's nothing waiting on the other side of the door either which is lucky for them or simply thoughtless on the part of whoever had planted the bomb. At their urging, Kun-Kun and his reps limp their way through the back door into a long hallway, the emergency light flickering unsteadily. Maybe a moment ago this would've been a slick back hall, track lit and vaguely neon on the way to some VIP gaming rooms and administrative offices. Now it's just a ramshackle hallway with a door at the end of it.]
The motorcade's out back. Come on. [Kun-Kun's firm enough about that, even if he seems distracted by keeping his hand clamped around the wrist of his representative, encouraging the broader man to keep his hand firmly on the wound.] There's a first aid kit there too. I think. Uh--
[His second rep, a middle aged woman with her hair worn long nods:] I'll get the door? [and extends her stride, running in her heels - CLACK CLACK CLACK - to the exit at the end of the hall. The noise is strangely loud, the chaos behind them oddly muffled.]