Wesley had forgotten what it felt like to wake up dying.
He'd rather thought he wouldn't wake up at all, this time; the sharp clarity of pain, followed by blanketing numbness as the strength ran out of his limbs like water, had seemed to signal as much. But then, he'd thought the same after Justine had slit his throat and he'd collapsed in shock and disbelief. He'd expected every struggled breath then to be his last, every brief emergence from unconsciousness throughout the night to be the stirring of the final curtain as it fell.
He rather doubted anyone would find him this time, however. Or-- would they? Something had awakened him...
"This one's dead, too, whatever it is," a male voice announced, suddenly, somewhere to his left.
Then a torch beam swept over him. "Hello, what's this?" a second voice asked, accented and female. "There's another body here, too, and this one looks human. Could be a lead on the group that busted the Trust's associates before we could get to them."
"Or another snakehead," the first voice replied. "Man, this city's a mess..."
Snakehead? Wesley wondered fuzzily, then drifted away again as warm fingers pressed against his throat.