[hr][hr][center][h1][color=ff6600]Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway[/color][/h1][img]http://37.media.tumblr.com/c52d6b9ae02d88293c8dbd47911bdd67/tumblr_n2swtgQuHI1tq4of6o1_500.gif[/img][hr]Location: Club AfterDark[/center][hr][hr]Almost on cue, her stomach grumbled. Ronnie always blamed his hunger on the munchies, but from what Tuesday could tell, he was like any teenage boy on the street--never able to stop eating. She followed his wave with her eyes, taking in the tall and muscular bartender. With guns like that, he [i]had[/i] to be doing more than serving drinks around the place. Returning her gaze to Ronnie, Tuesday frowned for a moment, mentally recalling the menu there. 

[color=ff6600]"Cheeseburger and onion rings?"[/color] Tuesday asked. She was a thin girl, but she held the majority of her weight as muscle. Her hobby, biking, and her martial arts knowledge helped to keep her figure slim. A few cheeseburgers wasn't going to ruin her form, as far as she was concerned. [color=ff6600]"The greasier the cheeseburger they can make, the better. Want me to pay you back in cash?"[/color] She smiled at him, as he left to grab the food.

Tuesday then felt the vibration of the incoming text, but she didn't bother to read it yet. She had sent it on a whim--later that evening, if her mood held, she'd reply and start actively thinking about it. Instead, Tuesday pocketed her phone, and portioned off a small section of her hair, braiding it absentmindedly. Glancing up at Ronnie as he returned, Tuesday chuckled slightly. She knew that look. [color=ff6600]"Think I'd look good with a half shaven head?"[/color]
[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#00ccff]Cecily Ashworth[/color][/h1][img]https://media.giphy.com/media/12hlWzXxgkY2sg/giphy.gif[/img][hr]Location: Queensguard Private Airfield[/center][hr][hr]The sounds of impending gunfire stopped, and for a moment, Cecily felt a tinge of relief. They were in the calm of the storm--she knew that it wouldn't last too long. Her mind fluttered back to the Sherlock narrative. Blood loss wasn't the only factor Molly Hooper cited, in her explanation of what would kill Sherlock. 

[i]You’re going into shock. It’s the next thing that’s going to kill you.[/i]

Staring down at her trembling hands, Cecily confirmed that was the case. She responded to Caesar without much protest, knowing that any security cameras had picked them up, and facial recognition wouldn't be too hard. There was little point in covering up the tattoo. Removing the bandana from her wrist, she pressed it up against her wound with trembling hands, tightening her grip as to avoid shaking. 

What did Molly tell Sherlock about the shock? What was that next bit of information? It was ironic, but fitting, Cecily realized, that her life might be in the hands of advice from a British television program. As a forensic technician, she worked with analyzing the dead--not preserving the living. She had no medical knowledge with which to treat herself. But Caesar, with all of his numerous scars, [i]had[/i] to have been shot before--he'd know what to do. Roy had said to stay with him. If they were lucky, they'd get out of there alive. 

And if not, they'd...Mycroft! Molly didn't have the next line, Cecily realized, mouthing the words to herself. [i]Don’t go into shock, obviously.[/i] That had been the advice. Calm, they needed her to calm down. Her therapist had always told her to let herself curl up into a ball and cry, watch some Netflix if she needed to, and reach out to a friend. There wasn't time for that. How to stay calm, how to stay calm?

Cecily jumped slightly as she heard the shot go off. Dashing back over to Caesar, her previous mental complaints about running gone, she was relieved when she saw the bullet impaled itself in the door. Just like how Prosperine's bullet had done--of course, the locations were different, and this one was aimed at the lock...But it was uncanny nonetheless, in Cecily's opinion. She nodded at his comments. Her people? She had a bit of a sad smile at that. Her parents had never quite been proud of her. They favored her younger brother, paying for him to attend boarding school, and leaving Cecily to be dragged all around the country, moving on occasion multiple times in a year. 

With the pressure she kept on her wound, her aim would be worse than usual, with the small pistol in her hand. She figured she'd have a better chance of hitting them by accident, rather than on purpose. [color=00ccff]"You want to use this instead?"[/color] Cecily asked, her voice cracking slightly. The shock continued to keep her up, but she knew that hydrostatic shock could kill her just as well, and immobilize her. She had to stay calm, even if it meant feeling the pain of a gun injury.

Breathing deeply, she increased the pressure she kept on her wound slightly. She let her mind run through more Sherlock scenes, some of them in order, some out. Anything to keep her calm and focused. She listened to Caesar's instructions, and while it wasn't her place, she couldn't help but add: [color=00ccff]"And get a spectroscopy expert to analyze any fluids by methods of standard additions to isolate the trace amounts."[/color] She glanced over at Caesar, hoping that was okay. Some forensic technicians were great--but not all. 

If she was going to be murdered, she didn't want to be another cold case if she could help it.