Fortunately for the well being of Josh's brain, it doesn't take him that long to start coming round. Unfortunately for his dignity (and any ability to take his captor by surprise) the first thing he's aware of is a truly delightful combination of pain and nausea, and he curls a little tighter around himself with a ragged (and possibly embarrassingly high pitched) moan. He's not even with the program enough to start questioning where he is, how he got there or why for a good minute more, though when he finally does regain enough higher brain functions to go there he goes very still and quiet. Doubtless too little too late, but he doesn't have a clue if he's being watched or not.
On the plus side, the only damage he's immediately aware of are the shots that put him down in the first place: his kneecaps seem to be intact and he knows from brutal experience that he'd be feeling it if someone had taken their frustrations out on his ribs or head after he hit the ground. So all in all things could be a hell of a lot worse. Depending on where he is, anyway. He bites back another groan as he slits his eyes open and the light stabs into them like god damn knives. He has to blink a few times to clear his vision, but then Big Red swims blearily into not quite focus. Correction, Big Red and the gun Josh never had managed to get his hands on.
Shit.
Josh flexes his hands in frustration, because he knows there's not a damn thing he can do. Not for himself, and not for the kid this piece of shit just sold into sexual slavery, and the next sound he has to choke back is a sob, because there's no way in hell he's giving the bastard the satisfaction. "What are you waiting for?" he demands, though his voice is rough and unsteady and not nearly as demanding as he'd intended. "To be able to force me to walk out of here under my own power so you don't have to get a body through the damn lobby?" His attempt to come off as confident and self-possessed probably isn't helped by the fact he's pretty sure he can't manage to lever himself upright just yet.
no subject
On the plus side, the only damage he's immediately aware of are the shots that put him down in the first place: his kneecaps seem to be intact and he knows from brutal experience that he'd be feeling it if someone had taken their frustrations out on his ribs or head after he hit the ground. So all in all things could be a hell of a lot worse. Depending on where he is, anyway. He bites back another groan as he slits his eyes open and the light stabs into them like god damn knives. He has to blink a few times to clear his vision, but then Big Red swims blearily into not quite focus. Correction, Big Red and the gun Josh never had managed to get his hands on.
Shit.
Josh flexes his hands in frustration, because he knows there's not a damn thing he can do. Not for himself, and not for the kid this piece of shit just sold into sexual slavery, and the next sound he has to choke back is a sob, because there's no way in hell he's giving the bastard the satisfaction. "What are you waiting for?" he demands, though his voice is rough and unsteady and not nearly as demanding as he'd intended. "To be able to force me to walk out of here under my own power so you don't have to get a body through the damn lobby?" His attempt to come off as confident and self-possessed probably isn't helped by the fact he's pretty sure he can't manage to lever himself upright just yet.