Six's eyes scanned the cave; the place had an odd sense of order, the kind that one can't understand but feels that they should not destroy. Books were in neat knee-high stacks, but the stacks were placed at random intervals. Torn or bunched up sketch paper littered the floor, but beautiful drawings where carefully displayed on the wall. The place lacked shelves, or tables, or any kind of furniture other than a desk pushed against a wall. Said desk was piled high with pencils, pens, and colored pencils. It suited Rex, in a way.
Six shifted the boy in his arms "Where's the supplies?" he asked.
Rex let out a soft moan and cracked open his eyes. "'Dat 'ay," he murmured waving his hand towards the back of the cave.
Six walked until he came to a split. To the left was simple darkness; on the right, was a room of sorts. The ground was mostly bare, save for the large collection of medical supplies and the lopsided, stained mattress lying in the middle of the cavern. It almost reminded Six of a drunken man passed out on the floor. Six gently placed the now unconscious Rex on the bed before turning to the collection of pills and creams. He searched through them for a while before giving up. Six was a mercenary, not a doctor. He needed help. Rex would hate him when he woke up, but at least he would wake up.
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Holiday was royally pissed. It was four in the morning. Six had called her, told her to get a med kit, and wait in the garage without so much as leaving her an explanation. Now he wasn't even here! Holiday kicked a tire on an armored personnel vehicle, muttering to herself about Six and being awake at such an ungodly hour.
"Holiday?" Dr. Holiday felt her face burn. Smoothing down her lab coat as she turned, fretting over her unprofessional behavior. "Six! I was just...what did you need?" Such trivial thoughts where blown straight out of her mind when Six uttered the magic words, "Rex is hurt."
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Six watched Rex tremble in his sleep. Dr. Holiday questioned him as she tightened some bandages on Rex's arm, asking who it was, guessing any remotely reasonable explication: A gang of kids? A radical group? Maybe Black Knight? She never guessed it was Providence's own men.
Six sat on the mattress next to Rex. His back was against the rough stone wall and his feet was stretched out in front of him. His eyes where half closed behind his shades. He just hummed softly in reply to the bombardment of questions. He hadn't slept in weeks and it was really starting to get to him, especially since he didn't have any caffeine in his system. Six let himself lay down on the bed, ignoring Dr. Holiday's questions and the little voice in his head telling him to stay alert. He started to drift off to sleep. The last thing he was aware of was Rex squirming closer to him, and the thought that it felt kinda nice.
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Sorry it's short I just wanted to get something out since I'm going out of town this weekend. Also Six isn't OOC, he's sleepy.