"Lie down or I'm calling you in sick tomorrow," Da Qing hisses, claws making the literal point, "and don't even think about working on those unsolved attacks, it's not going to do any good if you can't arrest the guy because you died of floral appendicitis."
"Now you're just– just making shit up," Zhao Yunlan retorts, and it's not quite a gasp but he doesn't really have the breath for much else either; gastritis and luohuabing don't exactly make for good bedfellows on any day, but beyond even the bile and choking flowers it's the burn of unfairness that really cuts.
If he's ever loved anyone enough to hurt this much for them you'd think he could at least remember who they'd been to each other.
Guardian; Zhao Yunlan, Da Qing (pre-canon)
"Lie down or I'm calling you in sick tomorrow," Da Qing hisses, claws making the literal point, "and don't even think about working on those unsolved attacks, it's not going to do any good if you can't arrest the guy because you died of floral appendicitis."
"Now you're just– just making shit up," Zhao Yunlan retorts, and it's not quite a gasp but he doesn't really have the breath for much else either; gastritis and luohuabing don't exactly make for good bedfellows on any day, but beyond even the bile and choking flowers it's the burn of unfairness that really cuts.
If he's ever loved anyone enough to hurt this much for them you'd think he could at least remember who they'd been to each other.