[i]A few weeks later...[/i]

Matt pushed the door of Alyce's apartment and stumbled into the room. He tried not to get blood or rain water onto the semi nice floor, but his efforts seemed to be in vain. He went to the kitchen and grabbed the highly sophisticated med-kit (a bottle of whisky and some gauze), and plopped himself down onto the living room floor. His shirt was torn, but he managed to get it off. The bullet wound in his shoulder hurt like hell, but the wound itself was none threatening. The problem was the bullet still lodged in him. If he didn't get it out soon, it could become infected. Alyce wasn't home (he thought anyway), so he had no choice but to try and dig it out himself. As he clawed into his shoulder with a pair of plyers, he didn't think about what had just happened. It didn't hurt as much if he focused on the gunshot. 

He heard the door swing open and saw Alyce walking in, stunned at the shirtless bloody Matt sitting in her living room. Matt took this time to say something creative, witty, and smart. "Hi..." was the best he could come up with.