[hr][hr][center][h1][color=ff6600]Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway[/color][/h1][img]http://25.media.tumblr.com/4c2fd6aa1effd5308a796400d13689ed/tumblr_mk4ikqpEz71r4867do3_250.gif[/img][hr]Location: Club AfterDark[/center][hr][hr]Tuesday rolled her eyes slightly, as they moved to a new booth. Yeah, she got it. People had weird things that'd set them off, and Trisha seemed like she meant business. But it was all so...[i]serious.[/i] She missed the days when drugs were fun, when there wasn't all of the politics and drama that came from helping to deal them out. In her mind, she could hear Marc pointing out that she wouldn't have had to experience this, if she had sobered up the first time she went to jail. 

Even when he wasn't there, he was being a pain in the ass. 

[color=ff6600]"Anything you want to do for thirty minutes, then?"[/color] Tuesday asked, as she leaned back in her chair. She didn't have anything better to do, and Ronnie knew the parameters of his own job better than anyone else. It was professional courtesy to follow his lead--the same she'd expect from him if they were doing a smuggling op at the local prison. Again, though...She couldn't help but feel more and more irritated with the entire thing. 

Maybe going to medical school and finishing her program wouldn't be that bad after all. Pulling out her phone, she sent off a quick text to Marc. She didn't dare tell Riley about this--her sister would be overbearing about it, almost too supportive. Marc wasn't family--it was somehow safer. 

[center][color=ff6600][i]Can you help me get back on track for medical school?[/i][/color][/center]
[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#00ccff]Cecily Ashworth[/color][/h1][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/a4309fbf21d35984b02760d9790ee8c2/tumblr_inline_nvc5gaOdlg1qlt39u_500.gif[/img][hr]Location: Queensguard Private Airfield[/center][hr][hr]She had seen people getting shot--not real people, mostly fictional characters on television programs. At first, she didn't feel it. The sound of the shot, the slight recoil of her body--she heard and felt that first. And then, her mind drifted almost, recalling the images and sounds and emotions of [i]His Last Vow.[/i] Molly Hooper had told Sherlock...What had she said? Ah, yes...

[i]You’re almost certainly going to die, so we need to focus.[/i]

Caesar had said something. His lips moved. The bullet--it was in her left shoulder? Was that the one John Watson had been shot in? Rather than collapse in fear and terror, realizing that she had been shot, she struggled to recall the details of a television series. He had gotten a limp, despite his shoulder wound--it was all in his head--would she get one? Would she walk with a cane until Benedict Cumberbatch, no, Sherlock, came to help?

[i]It’s all well and clever having a Mind Palace, but you’ve only three seconds of consciousness left to use it. So, come on – what’s going to kill you?[/i]

[color=00ccff]"Blood loss,"[/color] Cecily whispered, quoting the next line in the exchange. What did Molly say next? The mirror shattering, Mycroft, the dog, Mary in a wedding gown...She couldn't recall what happened next. She only knew that Sherlock had to fall. Did she have to fall? Was the bullet still inside her, or was it already out? Would her biggest concern be blood loss or would it be lead poisoning? 

Caesar was talking to her. She [i]had[/i] to focus. Focus, focus, focus! How had she used to do it during exams? How did she concentrate on one thing, with the piece of hot lead potentially signing her death warrant? Would Natasha be made coroner next after her? Would they kill her as well? Was there any point in hoping she could go to the hospital--they'd killed Wallace, couldn't they finish her off as well? 

Focus, Cecily! [color=00ccff]"S-Sorry...I..."[/color] Somehow, she found herself snapped back into focus. Her mind was frazzled, and she knew that the shock was likely the only thing keeping her standing. Focus on Caesar, focus on Caesar, focus on Caesar...An explosion? It was a hangar, there'd be plenty of material to work with. Potentially something in her bag as well. Chemicals, chemicals, chemicals...It was just a matter of getting the right ones. 

[color=00ccff]"My bag--Lugol's solution. Got iodide in it. Hydrogen peroxide too. They react--gas. Any sort of flame and it'll blow."[/color] It was the first idea that came to her mind, perhaps the simplest. They'd have to use about every drop for it to be meaningful, she imagined. But in the midst of her thinking, she did indeed stay behind him, her hands shaking slightly.