[God, it hurts to laugh. Sure, it hurts just to exist right now, but giggling with a bullet in his oblique brings a fresh, new kind of hurt that he wasn't expecting. It's not unbearable by any means - that Oscar goes to the quick-clot salting the fucking earth in his lower back - it's just strange and a little disconcerting, being able to feel the bullet every time his abdominal muscles contract to force a laugh up his diaphragm. It should probably freak him out a little, having this acute awareness of his insides that people aren't normally supposed to have, but it doesn't. Adrian's never really been all that great at reacting to things the way he's supposed to, so if it turns out he's taking all of this way better or way worse than he should, he wouldn't be surprised.]
[He's not great at gauging other people's tone either, but as far as he can tell, Clarke doesn't seem too put off by him - well, being him- so he figures he's probably not doing anything too weird right now. Or maybe he is and Clarke is just nice enough to not mention it. Either way, he's gonna take it as a win. Look at him go, fighting for his life on an observation table and being totally normal and cool and not weird about it.]
[He takes another deep breath when Clarke reminds him that that's a thing he needs to do, and he holds it a moment just so his lungs can get used to the feeling of being inflated again, before letting it out in one long huff. It's probably not a good thing, him needing to actively think about breathing properly, but he's not too worried about it. He's not really worried about anything right now, and he's not sure if it's because he's too exhausted to give a shit, or because he's actively dying and his body is flooding itself with chemicals so he doesn't freak out about it. Either way, he's starting to feel pretty okay about his current circumstances, aside from the pain and general malaise.]
[It helps that Clarke is talking, giving him something to focus on outside his body and everything that's currently wrong with it. Ghosts are a cool subject, even if he's pretty sure they're not real, if only because he would be super haunted if they were. Like, if vengeful spirits were actually a thing he definitely would have gotten fucked up by one by now.]
[He turns his head as best he can without actually lifting it off the table, and skews his glasses in the process. He can't really see over his shoulder well enough to get a good look at Clarke, but it's rude to not at least face the general direction of the person you're talking to.]
Man, fuck those guys...if I turn into a ghost I'll just kill them and send 'em all to Super-Hell.
[He goes quiet for a moment, his eyes closing as he tries to wrangle his breathing into some sort of consistent rhythm.]
...And Fuck Jensen Ackles too, for making me watch everything after season five.
[Look, he has a thing for jacked, hyper-masculine dudes with serious daddy/self-esteem issues whose abusive fathers trained them to kill from a young age and completely stunted their emotional development in the process, okay. Don't @ him.]
no subject
[He's not great at gauging other people's tone either, but as far as he can tell, Clarke doesn't seem too put off by him - well, being him- so he figures he's probably not doing anything too weird right now. Or maybe he is and Clarke is just nice enough to not mention it. Either way, he's gonna take it as a win. Look at him go, fighting for his life on an observation table and being totally normal and cool and not weird about it.]
[He takes another deep breath when Clarke reminds him that that's a thing he needs to do, and he holds it a moment just so his lungs can get used to the feeling of being inflated again, before letting it out in one long huff. It's probably not a good thing, him needing to actively think about breathing properly, but he's not too worried about it. He's not really worried about anything right now, and he's not sure if it's because he's too exhausted to give a shit, or because he's actively dying and his body is flooding itself with chemicals so he doesn't freak out about it. Either way, he's starting to feel pretty okay about his current circumstances, aside from the pain and general malaise.]
[It helps that Clarke is talking, giving him something to focus on outside his body and everything that's currently wrong with it. Ghosts are a cool subject, even if he's pretty sure they're not real, if only because he would be super haunted if they were. Like, if vengeful spirits were actually a thing he definitely would have gotten fucked up by one by now.]
[He turns his head as best he can without actually lifting it off the table, and skews his glasses in the process. He can't really see over his shoulder well enough to get a good look at Clarke, but it's rude to not at least face the general direction of the person you're talking to.]
Man, fuck those guys...if I turn into a ghost I'll just kill them and send 'em all to Super-Hell.
[He goes quiet for a moment, his eyes closing as he tries to wrangle his breathing into some sort of consistent rhythm.]
...And Fuck Jensen Ackles too, for making me watch everything after season five.
[Look, he has a thing for jacked, hyper-masculine dudes with serious daddy/self-esteem issues whose abusive fathers trained them to kill from a young age and completely stunted their emotional development in the process, okay. Don't @ him.]