The rain pelts loudly against the windows of the bar. Clint sits behind the bar and stares outside. Around him several, thick clouds of smoke have been extinguished from the cigarette butts of the visitors and wander through the room. Again and again a cold breeze catches him when someone opens the door and steps in, which offers him a pleasant change to the stuffy air in here.
He would like to give up his place here at the bar and squeeze his way out through the crowd, but he has to wait until his colleague finally comes to relieve him.
Instinctively, his gaze wanders to the black, half broken clock above the door. Why half broken? Because only the minute hand still works while the hour hand is stubbornly stationary. If you don't know that, you can quickly get into trouble, but the brunette has understood it over time and knows that there are only a few minutes left until he is free and can go home.
Sometimes the work in the remote shop really gets him down, and he sometimes toying with the idea of giving up and looking for another job, but he earns good money here and can't afford to start from the bottom up again.
Suddenly the door is opened and a young man comes running into the bar. The black-haired guy has a half-day job and is new here, but he is one of the few colleagues Clint really likes. "Clint? Come quickly", he calls through the whole bar through the man.
Surprised, the brown-haired man raises his head and looks at his friend asking, "What's happened, Edward?" "It's hard to explain", Edward sounds totally out of control: "Just go out and see for yourself. I'm taking over your service here. She needs someone like you right now, Barton. " She? Immediately the alarm bells are ringing. What could have happened? Was one of the guests doing something again?
Without thinking too much about it, he rushes off and leaves, following Edwards' instructions, his workplace to see why the boy is so upset.
His clothes are soaked within seconds as he starts out in the pouring rain. Immediately he discovers Edwards panic to panic and beats his hand in front of his mouth.
A few meters away from him lies a young woman on the hard, dark stone. She wears nothing on her body but a white, almost completely soaked dress and an equally wet cardigan. Her feet are not, as you would expect, in shoes that match her other style, but are completely naked. A strand of her red hair, tied to an elegant hairstyle, falls into her face. He immediately notices that her eyes are closed, but that is not the only frightening thing.
Through the fabric of her jacket a red spot has spread on her right shoulder and the dark blue bruises on her legs do not escape it either. What happened to that young woman?
Automatically he squats next to her and carefully presses his fingers against her neck. As he feels the pulsation of the vein underneath, his breath calms down a little. Her heartbeat isn't as strong as it should be, but it's there and that lets him relax a little. Knowing it's not too late for her, he carefully pushes his arms under her body and gently pulls the redhead onto her lap, then lifts it up a few seconds later. Edward could never have worn it, which is why Clint is quite happy that he called him for help.
With her in his arms he goes back to the bar and briefly explains to his young colleague that he takes her to his room and takes care of her there. Fortunately, Edward agrees to take the rest of his shift.
The man inconveniently opens some doors and climbs a staircase until he arrives in his room. He's been living above the bar for about a year for a good price, although it's not what you would call luxurious, but it's enough for him. After all, he has everything he needs. A bedroom, a small kitchen and a bathroom and that's enough for him.
After he puts the key in the lock and opens the door, he walks as fast as he can through the small room in which he sleeps and puts it on his bed. As his fingers stroke her skin, he almost freezes. She's freezing cold. Without thinking long, he turns it on its side and lets his fingers slide to the zipper. Of course, he takes care to strain her apparently injured shoulder. He inconveniently opens the zipper and then lifts it up slightly so that he can take off her dress. Of course, he realizes that when she wakes up, she will certainly slap him for it, but at this moment he doesn't care. He doesn't even know the name of the beautiful redhead in his arm, but he still wants to do everything in his power to prevent her from dying.
Next he decides to remove her cardigan carefully, which is surprisingly simple. Satisfied, he throws the jacket into some corner, but when he discovers the gaping wound, he would love to freak out. Who did this to her?
After a few seconds he jumps up and runs into the bathroom where he keeps his bandages hidden. His heart's almost up to his throat. Why can't something in his life run smoothly for once?
He comes back with disinfectant and two bandages. Fortunately, he had learned how to make a pressure bandage during his schooldays. However, before he can properly connect the shoulder, he can't stop looking at her beautiful, delicate body. She's the most perfect being he's ever met. But then he pulls himself together and looks at the wound.
Now she is grateful that she is not awake, because she would certainly not like to feel the disinfectant on her skin. After all, he's not a big fan of it either and tries to avoid it often enough. I don't think it's gonna be any different with her.
Then he tears open the packaging of the first bandage and places it next to her arm to put the packaging of the second one next to the first one on the bedside table. He can dispose of it later. She's all that matters to him now!
She presses the first bandage onto the wound and fixes it firmly with the second, but not firmly enough to cut off her whole arm from the blood supply. He is satisfied with his work, which has really not become as bad as he had been waiting for.
Although she at least no longer only wears wet clothes, he knows that she is still in danger, because her underwear is also wet, but he does not dare to take them off. He doesn't want her waking up wondering why she's not wearing any clothes. I'd panic if I were her, and who knows what I'd think.
So he takes only one of his shirts out of the sparsely filled wardrobe and puts it on her. This is followed by one of his black sweatpants. Then he puts his own wet clothes down and decides to lay down next to her after he has put the blanket over her. Then he closes his eyes and puts his arm around the young woman to give body heat. After a short time, a veil of tiredness covers him and his eyes close almost automatically as sleep overcomes him.