Finally, it was done. Gil had a condensed serum that he had derived from Jackal's blood. It had taken most of the night, but here it was. A mostly clear liquid which he held in a sphere in his right hand. Gil released some of the binding he had on Bazil's wounds and pressed the liquid against it, massaging it into the affected area. His left hand moved to the man's chest, compressing it to mimic a heart beat. Slowly, Gil artificially circulated the cure around his body. And with this motion, the blue discolouration that signified the venom's grip on Bazil's body slowly wained. It had been hard work, but somehow, he had managed to pull this win out of the hat.
Resting for a moment and letting his mind wander, his black eyes wandered to the window, seeing the first red streaks of dawn begin to bring the sky from it's dark slumber. A soft thump hit the cobbles outside. That would be the morning paper. He went to collect it, a quick flick in and out would bring the rolled paper inside. Unfurling it, Gil would absorb the contents. The marines that had swarmed the island now had full grasp of the media. Every second headline was now some pro World Government propaganda about how the marines had come in some kind of divine crusade against the heathens which threatened them. Every tragedy was an excuse to reinforce the idea that the people needed the marines.
A new batch of wanted posters. Sifting through them he saw familiar faces. The 'Warhead' that lay on his bed now was worth even more millions of beli to the World Government. A description of his bloody transgressions listed below. From all of this to the stories told to him by the folks in Nanohana, it was hard to imagine this man to be anything but the demon that he had been depicted to be. Manic laughter and indiscriminate slaughter. He certainly seemed like he was missing a nut or two. It concerned him that Jackal had gone to such trouble to associate with this character. Gil would return to the bed, leaving a large glass of water and a sack of dried fruit, nuts and a bar of chocolate on the coffee table next to him. He would then move to the sink, turning the tap on and covering himself in as much water as he could hold while gripping it close to his body with pisces paladin. In part this was a bath to wash off the sweat of his labour, and also as a back up. If this really was a madman that he had saved, then it would be naive to confront him without being armed. He would pull up a stool and watch the sunrise as it filtered over the sleeping man, each ragged breath pulling him further away from death's door.
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A few hours later, Bazil would be in a good enough state to where he would be in a natural sleep. He would be fatigued, but nothing that a good sleep and good nutrition wouldn't fix. "Oi. Time to wake up kiddo. Eat and drink all of it. Your body needs it after the night you've had." Gil would throw a cushion at the man's head from his position on the stool a few metres away. Gil would be examining Bazil closely to see how he responded. "I want to ask you a few questions about your future. Marines are crawling this island. What exactly do you intend to do going forward?"
skills: pisces paladin
doriki: +3 speed