[Indent][CENTER][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/146547750937296896/327646509413957634/karada.png[/img][/CENTER][/Indent]
[center][b][color=a36209]Interactions: [@Zelosse][@GodOfWar][/color][/b][/center]
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The heavily bruised Gankona quickly reached over, plucking the two cigarettes from Karada's hand and lighting the pair with Karada's outstretched lighter. Normally a grumble of annoyance would escape his throat, but considering his current condition, he honestly didn't feel up to the disgusting sticks of tobacco he handed off to Gank. After taking a puff and breathing out, Gankona responded to Karada. 

[color=f9ad81]"Did some shit, got hit by some shit, learned some shit. Really, it was mostly me getting into shit. How' bout you?
 How did your little fight go?"[/color]

[color=a36209]"I think I did pretty good for the most part, besides fucking up my leg."[/color]

Karada nodded down to the bloody bandages around his leg, before Gankona began to question him.

[color=f9ad81]"Wait, what the hell is your quirk anyways?"[/color]

Karada leaned his head back against the gym building, the sounds of the fight going on inside barely registering in his ringing ears. Most people considered it rude to directly talk about another person's quirk - most were obvious, and it would be like asking about a person's kidneys or genitals. It was just something you don't usually do. Karada had that hammered into him ever since he was 4 - after all, what rich business man would want his kid to ask someone something so crude? But maybe that was what was so enjoyable about Gank - he seemed to not care about social status or proper conduct, he just said what was on his mind. Karada enjoyed that - he didn't have to second guess his actions around the goat boy.

[color=a36209]"Well, whenever I'm not moving, I can't get hur-"[/color]

Gankona seemed to buckle over slightly, and a slight crackling permeated his voicee as he cut Karada off.

[color=f9ad81]"Alright, cool, not moving. Great quirk. Oh, shit. Ok, I need to do something or I'm gonna die. I swear. Holy... ahg..."[/color]

Karada didn't question him as he rose up from his sitting position and made his way to the cafeteria, calling out as he did so. Karada could see that he was bruised, and the bleeding nose sure as hell didn't look good. He would have told Gank to throw some ice on the wounds, but doing that would just make him prideful and he would refuse to do it. Karada knew that - after all, he would do the same. Karada continued to wait, until eventually Lorken, massive figure and all, appeared with the final student. He then began his directions, telling the small group that they would be given rooms in the basement should they wish, and they were free to use any facilities as they saw fit. And with that, he turned, allowing the students to do as they wished. Before he got far, however, Karada had limped his way in front of the man, cutting off his way back to the school house.

[color=a36209]"Excuse me sir, but could you give me directions to the nurses office -"[/color]

Karada gently tapped his bandaged leg.

[color=a36209]"You cut me pretty deep, and I was planning to stitch it up soon."[/color]

After receiving directions, Karada tried (and unsuccessfully) to hide his limp as he made his way towards the nurses office.

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Karada entered the room soon afterwards, arms filled with disinfectant and thread. The room was, like the rest of the house, fancy and ancient. It looked as if it came from a gilded age, and was taken care of very well. The room itself was large, only slightly smaller than his room at his old house. The carpet and bed reeked with the scent of age, like a library, and the desk near the corner of the room was made with a very fine wood, which Karada could not identify at a glance. The bed was standard, not like the queen-sized one he had at his old home. But then again, his door had a lock, so just that was a godsend for the Karada. Setting himself down on the chair next to the desk, Karada laid down the medical supplies. He had gone to the nurses office and, noticing no one present, simply decided to take the items he needed. After all, Lorken said that they were allowed to use the facilities here as they saw fit. Karada slowly locked his door, before he began to strip off his ruined pants - hopefully, there would be a uniform or something in the closet. Opening the wound revealed the terrible job his barely conscious self did - the wound was a furious red, and the occasional prodding elicited blood from the fleshy maw. Karada gently dabbed some disinfectant onto cotton balls, before he went about sanitizing the wound.

The pain was astounding, but nothing he wasn't expecting. He had dealt with wounds before, this was just worse than usual. Nothing he couldn't handle. After applying a liberal amount of disinfectant, Karada shakily grabbed the small needle and thread and, with several failed attempts, successfully tied the barely visible thread around the needles head. Karada immediately took some of the pain medication that he brought along with him - nothing nearly strong enough to make him not feel the pain of stitching up his wound. After all, he didn't want to fuck up his leg any worse than it already was, and he had a hard enough time of staying concentrated with the searing pain in his head. Several minutes passed as Karada allowed the medicine to work, and he felt the pain grow slightly duller, nowhere near as blinding as before. Gently, with surprising precision, Karada slid the needle through his flesh, suturing the wound. Finally, after what felt like an eternity (30 minutes), Karada was finished: his leg was in a far better condition. Given time, it would eventually return to normal. Karada sighed, sweat pouring down his body as he did so. The experience was godawful, to say the least. Rising shakily to his feat, Karada was careful to put as little pressure as possible onto his leg, and made his way to the closet. As he opened it, his suspicions were confirmed - inside, several neat school uniforms were hanging by hooks, ready to be worn. Karada dressed slowly, and made his way to the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, Karada locked the door and proceeded to take a "Shower" - essentially, he washed his entire body with water and soap, except the stitches. He wasn't stupid, and knew that getting the suture wet was simply begging for infection. After drying himself carefully and inspecting the wound, Karada redressed and made his way to the cafeteria. He almost definitely had a concussion, so he would probably be able to find some caffeine and a meal to keep him awake.