bakerstreet | ( they're bleeding! oh no. they are dead. )

[ either role is fine! ]

Oh, look at you! You look like you had such a good time!

[ he looks like his brain is leaking out of his head, but whatever, same difference. ]

Five centimeters.

[ simmer simmer simmer ]

Five centimeters!

[ simmer simmer simmer simmer simmer ]

Five! Centimeters! Lower! And I would have had to clean out the rest of the storage room without a head!

Why are you keeping a carpet capable of eating people.

[ - and there's his boiling point. ]

Or no! Rather!

Why are you keeping a thing that can eat someone who just wanted to beat off its dust and and why is it pretending to be a carpet!!

[Chocola had just stepped out of her apartment building when someone rushed past her followed by something clearly demonic. A few feet away the demonic being knocked the other person to the ground and she reacted right away.]

HEY! Go mess with someone else!

[In two seconds flat she had caught up with them and punched the demon right in the face, eyes glaring daggers at it. Another punch and some more screaming and it fled.]

Are you okay? [She turned her attention to the stranger and offered him a hand to help him up.] Wait you are bleeding... Did it bit you or what?

(Can go either way as needed or depending on pairing, M/F for ships and skips the bloodlust for mental/emotional fallout)

[either role is cool]

((ooc: Would you be interested in Magnus having to patch up Alec?))

((ooc: absolutely :) ))

Injuries are just part of the job. Fight demons for a living and eventually a Shadowhunter is going to end up bleeding or receiving a few broken bones. It was something that Alec was used to. Get hurt. Stop the bleeding. Move on. But now he has more than just Izzy and Jace to worry over him.

That made Alec less likely to brush off his injuries and go sulk in his room until he was cleared for missions. He still didn't think of most of them as serious, not really realizing that he should put his own well-being might be just as important as Izzy and Jace's, but he this time instead of patching himself up, he limped into Magnus' apartment.

Looking around his - friend's? boyfriend's ? Alec's still not sure what to call him - apartment, he hoped he wasn't dripping blood on the floor. Glancing behind him, he let out a relieved sigh when he realized that he hadn't ruined Magnus' rug. Tightening his hold on the cut on his upper arm, he debated trying to find Magnus and sat down on the couch instead. Tipping his head back against the cushions, he didn't notice how tired he was until his eyes started sliding closed no matter how hard he tried to stay awake.

Magnus had been busy in the kitchen, but heard somebody enter his apartment all the same. He didn't sense any threat so at least it wasn't an unexpected demon attack.

He came striding into the living room, looking pleasantly surprised upon seeing Alec on his sofa. His expression changed as soon as he realised that the man was wounded and seemingly unconscious. "Alexander?"

Tentatively, Magnus rests a hand on Alec's knee, inspecting the cut on his arm.

The sound of Magnus' footsteps roused him slightly but he didn't start to open his eyes until he felt someone set down beside him. It probably wasn't a good idea to sleep until he was sure he didn't have a concussion but that didn't mean he wouldn't relax for a few seconds more before explaining to Magnus what had happened.

Smiling when Magnus put his hand on his knee, Alec finally opened his eyes. "I missed you." It was such a simple thing to say but it was important after denying how much he cared. For some reason he was incredibly proud of himself for saying it, for admitting that to someone when normally he had to hide everything he felt.

"It looks worse than it is. Jace tried an iratze but they don't work as well anymore." That was something Alec didn't want to think about. "It's not poisoned. Just doesn't want to stop bleeding." Tipping his head back, he tried to see if he'd left drops of blood everywhere then gave up. "Did I ruin your floor?"

Magnus can't help but smile when Alec says that he has missed him. The feeling is very much mutual. "Don't worry about the floor." Carefully, Magnus wraps an arm around Alec's chest and manhandles him to lie down on the couch properly, his injured arm accessible for Magnus to inspect.

"I'm glad you came here." He hovers his palm over the wound, trying to find out how bad it is. "It hit an artery, that's why it doesn't stop bleeding." He reaches down to take Alec's hand into his unoccupied one. "This might sting a little."

Slowly, he reaches out with his magic, repairing the damaged tissue bit by bit.

"Someone should. Everyone demands you do things. It's not right." Even he had done it but Alec hadn't had a choice when it was Izzy in trouble. That didn't mean he wouldn't get offended by it on Magnus' behalf. He barely protests as Magnus maneuvered him, blinking up at the ceiling before focusing on his boyfriend.

Using boyfriend has to be okay in his thoughts at least even if he isn't sure about saying it aloud yet.

"So it wasn't the irazate." He can't keep the relief out of his voice. When the wound wouldn't quit bleeding, Alec couldn't completely ignore the thought that maybe he'd damaged the bond with Jace too much and they'd never truly be parabatai again.

Closing his eyes, he tensed slightly, afraid that he'd react if it did hurt and worry Magnus. Instead of stinging, it tingles along his arm, causing an odd shiver that Alec doesn't expect. "It's not like healing Luke? You won't wear yourself out again because of me?"

"Demanding things from me is not the problem. Not being paid for it is." Magnus sighs, focussing on the task at hand.

"No, darling, this is barely more than a scratch, albeit a nasty one." He strokes his thumb over the back of Alec's hand. "Don't you worry about me."

"Magnus, I..." Biting his lip, he tries to think of how to ask without insulting them both. Even without his family being furious with him, he doesn't have the resources to pay for the High Warlock of Brooklyn's usual rates and he doesn't want assume that dating meant that Magnus would heal him for free. Magnus already technically owned the two things that are most valuable to Alec.

Why can't he be better with people? Or, more specifically, with Magnus? All of this is confusing and he can't even use what he'd seen from Izzy and Jace's relationships to guide him. At least Magnus knows this is his first time dating anyone so he's going to make mistakes.

Resting his hand on Magnus', Alec gives him a nervous smile. "I'm always going to worry about the people I care about."

"Shush." Magnus raises an eyebrow, squeezing Alec's hand. "I'm not taking any money from you. Don't be ridiculous."

"I know you do. You have a kind heart, Alexander." The blue light slowly disappears from his palm and the warlock looks pleased. "As good as new. You should take things easy for today. You have lost a lot of blood."

"I don't want you to think I'm using you." Alec knows how that feels and he doesn't want Magnus to ever question why he wants to see him. That it isn't about magic or being the High Warlock. "I came over to see you not to be healed." Smiling wryly, he nodded toward his injured arm. "The rune worked enough that I figured it would quit bleeding eventually."

The last sparks of magic tingle along his arm and his smile turns to something softer as he lifts his hand. Pausing, he's wonders how much he's allowed. Can he touch or kiss Magnus without crossing some line he doesn't know yet? Some of that indecision is reflected in his eyes before he returns his hand to where it had been before. "Thank you. Does that mean I can stay for awhile before heading back to the Institute?"

"I'm not thinking that at all." It's ridiculous, really. Magnus is old enough to notice when somebody is trying to take advantage of him and Alec clearly isn't.

It's endearing to see how unsure Alec still is around him, Magnus thinks. "You can stay as long as you want." He smiles, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Alec's lips. "How are you feeling?"

"You never thought that I liked you because of your magic?" There is a part of Alec that is fascinated by it but it isn't why he's drawn to Magnus. He's sure that others would want to date the High Warlock of Brooklyn just to have access to his magic.

"I'll have to go back by morning." If only to keep Jace from making more terribly innuendos and asking him what he did all night with Magnus.

Catching the back of Magnus's neck, he lightly tugs him closer so they could kiss again, not as chaste before but not as enthusiastically as he wants. "Tired," he admits, almost looking apologetic. He doesn't like telling Magnus about that weakness but it's not something Alec can really hide after bleeding all over Brooklyn. "But I want to spend time with you."

"No, I didn't. It was hard enough to persuade you to give me a chance. I doubt that it was my magic that made you change your mind eventually." He'd like to think that it was his charming personality that made Alec see the light.

"Don't worry, I didn't plan on any too strenuous activities for tonight." He smirks, cupping Alec's cheek. "How about we watch a movie before we turn in for the night? Oh and I can sleep on the sofa, if you'd prefer my bed."

He almost starts teasing Magnus about his magic but that doesn't seem right after some of the things he'd said before the wedding. "It wasn't about giving you a chance, Magnus. I didn't know how to give myself one. It was you that made me change my mind." There really aren't words for what it'd been. Whatever it is that makes Magnus the person who sets Alec's heart racing and makes him want to live for himself instead of his family's honor can't be put into words.

Smiling against Magnus' palm, he considers the stamina rune so at least he won't fall asleep on their improvised date. That wouldn't help him heal. "A movie sounds good -" Pausing, he frowned up at Magnus. "Why wouldn't you sleep in your bed?"

"Oh, Alexander." He smirks, winking at Alec. "You're making me blush."

Magnus strokes his thumb over Alec's prominent cheekbone, smiling to himself. This boy really is too precious. "I won't let you sleep on my sofa after the day you've had and I didn't want to assume that you would be comfortable sharing my bed with me."

Grinning at Magnus, Alec wonders if he could make Magnus blush. It seems like a challenge that they both would enjoy since Magnus seems to like his honestly.

"Magnus..." He starts to protest that he's been hurt worse over the years then reconsiders. It's not something Magnus should have to worry about. "I'll be fine in a few hours." But Alec has the feeling that even if he hadn't been injured, Magnus would insist that he take the bed. "Thank you for not assuming. I don't mind sharing." Which doesn't exactly match his suggestion to go slow but the idea doesn't make him nervous. That might change when it's time for them to go to bed but right now he wants as much time with Magnus as possible.

"I'll keep my hands to myself." Magnus grins, waving a hand towards his tv set, switching it on. "Mostly." He's happy to just spend time with Alec like this. Knowing that this is the Alexander's first relationship, he doesn't want to scare him off by being too forward.

"Scoot over." He picks up a blanket and makes himself comfortable next to Alec on his couch.

"And I'll keep my hands to myself." Moving slowly, he sits up, not quite sure if he'll be dizzy after the blood loss and magic. "Mostly." Alec isn't sure how fast or slow they should be moving but he knows that Magnus won't push him into anything he's not ready for.

Slouching into the cushions so that he's closer to Magnus' height, he smiles at Magnus before trying to pay attention to whatever is on the TV. "Do you mind dates like this?

"Whatever you are comfortable with, Alexander." Smiling, Magnus pats Alec's knee. "Mind? Why would I?" He shifts slightly until their shoulders are pressed together. "In my old age, I very much enjoy a quiet night in once in a while." He winks at Alec, moving his hand from the other man's knee to his forearm.

"We'll have to see what I'm comfortable with." Alec doubts that if anything happened, it'd be more than kissing and some touching until magic and runes finish their work. Healing takes energy even when magic helps it along.

Shivering slightly, either from Magnus's hand on his knee or from the souvenirs from the night's hunt, he curls closer to Magnus, hand creeping toward the blanket.

"It's not as exciting as Pandemonium." Which isn't bad considering what had happened when they'd met. "Should I expect to go clubbing soon?" He should be watching whatever is on the screen but he can't seem to look away from Magnus. "I enjoy any night that we're together."

Smiling, Magnus wraps an arm around Alec's shoulders, tugging him closer. "Absolutely not. We're staying in tonight."

As much as he enjoys going out, quiet evenings on the sofa with someone he cares about is something Magnus haven't experienced in a very long time.

It takes a little effort but Alec manages to slouch down enough that Magnus won't be uncomfortable. "Later you'll convince me to go to the club?" Normally he'd complain about going somewhere loud and crowded but he has the feeling he'd enjoy it - in small doses - with Magnus. "I don't mind. I know you'd probably prefer going out."

Magnus is being patient with him, letting Alec figure out things he'd never thought he'd be allowed to have. It doesn't seem right if they end up on the couch watching movies all the time because Alec isn't as social as other people. "Maybe on nights when I'm not trying to drag everyone out of trouble?"

"I prefer spending my time with you, Alexander. I don't care about a specific location." Magnus assures him, patting Alec's arm. "We can go out sometime, but only if you want to."

It's not like they'll be attached by the hip from now on. Magnus is happy to go out alone if Alec prefers to stay in from time to time.

"I wouldn't mind. It'd be different with you than with Izzy and Jace." Maybe he'll enjoy himself if he isn't constantly worrying about the trouble his siblings would get into. "I've never really went out unless it was with them." Which meant he never really chose what they did.

He moves one shoulder in a faint shrug, not sure if that will make Magnus think he's boring but wanting to tell him the truth. "I was only supposed to be interested in hunting."

( either or. )

[ either! he has bandages ]

Edited 2016-03-31 18:20 (UTC)

[ Would you like to put up with an injured idiot? ]

[ either. ]

It's simple enough and something she's done a handful of times before, usually when Izaya claims to be female online. Generally, it's a quick process: meet the person or people in question, hand over cash, and get whatever it is Izaya's after. Until now, she's never run into an issue.

This time, though, is different. The address she's given leads her to a closed down restaurant - one that she sees is essentially being used for storage and junk once she gets inside through the back door. On top of that, the guy she's meeting seems almost excited once she shows up. Most people aren't quite as indifferent to this as she is, but she's used to seeing nervousness instead.

The exchange itself goes fine. She hands over an envelope and he counts the money inside. Then he hands over a flash drive that she tucks away in her purse. It seems like everything's done.

Until there's a shout outside. As wary as she is, she's not prepared for the sudden sound of glass breaking or the sudden flash of a fire starting as the guy in front of her breaks into a wide grin.

"You shouldn't have threatened us, Nakura-san." It's all he offers in his glee as another molotov cocktail sails in through the broken window, enabling the spread of the fire to the number of aging boxes of whatever is being stored in the building. One more flies in as she turns to move back the way she came in, one sleeve-covered hand now covering her mouth to battle the smoke surrounding them. She only gets a couple of steps before a hand grips her arm and yanks her back, a shove following that has her stumbling into a stack of burning boxes nearby.

Boxes she soon finds out are full of glassware as she knocks them over, nearly falling into them in the process. When she catches herself and turns back to look at him, it takes a look around to realize he's already on his way out, knocking things over along his way in a likely attempt to keep her from escaping if she tries.

Unfortunately for their plan, Izaya is the reason for this and she's livid. So, through the coughing and the pain radiating from one forearm and shoulder, she stumbles her way back out of the building, earning another burn to her calf on the way out.

She's a sight when she makes it to the sidewalk and she's lucky that it's fairly late, so avoiding too many lights will keep people away from questioning the holes burned into her clothes and the state of her health. That's what she hopes, anyway, because she doesn't need the unwanted attention to distract her from the thoughts of strangling Izaya - the adrenaline from those thoughts and what just happened keeping her moving quicker than she would be otherwise.

Work has finished unusually early; today's debtors are surprisingly cooperative, and Shizuo only has to pick up one of them by the shirt collar for trying to make a bolt for it the moment he opens his door to the sight of Heiwajima Shizuo looming on the other side. It's been relatively quiet on other fronts, too....people give them a wide berth, they have time to stop in someplace for ice cream cups after lunch, and the weather's sunny and mild. Not a single street sign so much as dented. Tom sees him off cheerfully, more than a little pleased with the day's (peaceful) productivity, and Shizuo sets out for home at a slow and meandering pace to savor the good mood and enjoy the last of the sunshine.

It's been a long time since he's had a day this quiet, to be honest...and so, in retrospect, it only makes sense that it hardly lasts.

He drops by a small convenience store on his way down a more out of the way street, as the hour stretches late, to pick up something for dinner; by the time he emerges back outside it's already getting dark, streetlights flickering to life. Shizuo pauses by the curb for a long moment, a single plastic bag looped over one arm, to light a new cigarette and take a long drag. His eyes follow the smoke upwards...to more smoke? Much higher up in the sky, streaming from somewhere behind, and Shizuo turns to follow it with his line of sight to somewhere behind, a few streets over. Huh...some place on fire?

He frowns, taking the cigarette from his lips and exhaling another thin line of smoke. There's probably going to be a racket of fire engines soon, and quite frankly he'd rather not be around for that. The sirens are irritating. Knocking the ash from the end of his light, he turns about on his heel with full intention of starting off down the street once more--and pauses again.

Because he's just in time to spot somebody else moving down the currently-empty street towards him. A figure keeping closer to the building's shadows and away from the street lights, sure; but, squinting, Shizuo finds he can still pick out long dark hair and--a familiar shirt? Oh...he starts forward.

"Ah, hey...Namie, right?" It's an informal greeting, as he approaches with a slight wave of his hand, a little blunt but still pretty mild. It'd been a little while since the last time they met, honestly, but Shizuo still finds himself faintly pleased about the thought of running into her at least in passing. She'd been good company before--awkward circumstances aside--and it would be nice to see how she's...doing...?

Wait, isn't she walking a little odd? And her clothes...the distance closes, and Shizuo's approach wavers. He frowns. "Wait. You alright?"

The street being empty is the one stroke of luck she's had and even that doesn't last. For a brief moment, she wonders if the lone person walking toward her has something to do with Izaya as well and she considers turning to walk the other way. But she gets closer as he does and she hears the sound of her name in a vaguely familiar voice, one that only takes focusing on the man getting closer to her to realize who she's approaching.

There's a biting response to being addressed that dies before it reaches her lips once she realizes she's looking at Shizuo. She's still tense, angry, on edge, but she doesn't lash out at him with it.

Instead, she comes to a stop, one hand resting against the wall of the building she's closest to as she takes a slow breath to even herself out. It's probably not the best idea when being worked up has kept the pain dulled for the time being, but she's already preparing to reassure him that she's fine and she needs to be calm to do that.

She finally nods at his greeting, not getting any closer to him. "Shizuo," is the greeting she offers in reply, informal as his and as casual as it can be, all things considered. When he questions how she's doing, she glances down at herself for the first time since managing to get out of the building, only then realizing just how much her state reflects the fact that she got herself out of a burning building.

There's a hole in her tights on her left leg, an angry red patch of skin visible through it. Her clothes look like she rolled through a bed of ash on her way out of the building. And the right sleeve of her shirt is torn, another burn visible on her forearm while another on her shoulder is hidden by the less wrecked part of her sleeve. Despite all of this and the aching burn acknowledging the wounds brings about, her expression still hasn't entirely settled from the borderline murderous look that comes with knowing Izaya's the reason for all of this in the first place.

She's trying, though. Namie closes her eyes, taking another breath and exhaling slowly before she nods once more, the concern not quite so disarming when her thoughts are elsewhere.

"I'm fine. I just need to get home."

He'd faltered a little, at first, but now Shizuo draws forward again at a faster pace when Namie stops, leaning against the wall like that. Getting closer does nothing to improve the impression of not-alrightness he'd already begun to suspect, as the ash and holes burned into her clothing come into sharper definition, and soon enough he's standing in front of her with more than a little alarm of his own.

"You don't look fine." This objection slips out automatically, blunt and almost indignant at the notion of her trying to wave off something very obviously not fine right in front of him. What does she take him for, blind? But then Shizuo begins to notice her mood, too, the angry edge in her expression, and that's something else to be startled about.

Thus far, Shizuo has never witnessed Namie in any state that wasn't impassive at least and vaguely irritated at the most, even surrounded by thugs in pouring rain at an ungodly hour of morning; this display is jarringly less subdued by comparison. It's concerning, and also...almost a little contagious, honestly. He straightens, frown deepening into a scowl of his own; he might not have any idea what's going on yet, but his temper already doesn't like it, evidently.

"What the hell happened? --You get caught in some kind of fire?" ...Come to think of it...his glance strays to the smoky horizon again.

Her brush off is hardly an issue of thinking he's blind or stupid enough to not see through it. It's a kneejerk response, one that comes from so many years of taking care of herself that admitting she might need help is almost as foreign as Shizuo's concern feels. And the objection just shows that it's still there, that concern he seems to have, and it almost makes her want to argue that she can take care of herself.

But she watches the look on his face shift from startled concern to an anger that almost mirrors her own. The arguing isn't worth it if he's getting angry for her and she prefers walking herself back to her apartment to having him scoop her up a second time.

She glances off in the direction he's looking, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the smoke, and then she turns her attention back to Shizuo. Sticking around long enough for firetrucks to come through isn't something she wants to do when anyone could spot her and try to offer medical attention.

"Walk with me and I'll tell you what happened," she offers, her expression softening to something a little less angry as she pushes herself away from the wall and straightens up, putting less weight on her left leg. And then, because she knows there's still that underlying concern: "Don't worry, I can handle taking care of this when I get home."

Shizuo's scowl almost curls a little bit initially, at her offer--because that still doesn't tell him what happened now, and it must have been recent, and maybe whichever bastards had done it are still--close by, or something--but Namie's anger also seems to be easing in increments, and he notices that too. Shizuo hesitates, glancing between Namie and the distant smoke, before drawing a pace back to take another very agitated drag on his cigarette, turning his head and sighing it back out.

This seems to help a little; straightening, Shizuo returns to regarding Namie with a marginally smaller frown, and nods shortly.

"--Alright." At least she's letting him walk with her; a fact he will appreciate slightly later, as his temper settles. For now his attention is fixed on Namie's own steps, however, noting how she's favoring her right leg like that. He draws beside her, not too close just yet, but concern very clearly guiding his line of movement. The additional reassurance earns a sidelong glance.

"You haven't got any backup doctors of your own?" That could have almost passed for something humorous, in literally any other situation. But his frown isn't really shifting to accommodate it any, at the moment. "--Whatever. I'm coming with you, yeah." As if this has already been decided, and Namie's say on this has already been taken into account. (He does sort of assume it has, since she's letting him walk with her now and all...)

Going after the idiots who did this isn't what she wants. Not because she considers them innocent, but because the real person behind it is Izaya. If it hadn't been for his deliberate efforts to piss the guy she met off, she would've walked away from the meeting without a scratch and this meeting would've been a simpler one in passing - something more pleasant, even. But, as it is, Izaya has his hands in everything and he'll surely take some amount of glee from the threat she intends to issue once she sees him again on Monday.

Shizuo gives in to her offer and she nods, beginning to walk and watching him out of the corner of her eye. Then her gaze fixes on the empty sidewalk ahead of them as she takes her time, letting him walk beside her without any immediate protest. It's better, she reasons, that he's there because it means having someone to grab hold of if she does stumble. She doesn't intend to, but it could happen. And having someone with her should be enough to ward off the questions of anyone else who happens to see her like this.

"As long as I'm conscious and I can walk, I can take care of anything myself." She's probably too stubborn for her own good at times, but she doesn't consider this one of them. Her anger eases the longer the two of them walk next to one another, though, even in the silence that settles as they make it a block down and she leads them around the corner to start along another. Sirens can be heard along the street they turn away from and she doesn't glance back.

"I was in that building to do something for work." It's the beginning of the explanation, but she doesn't immediately launch into the rest of it, instead focusing on ignoring the burns while they walk.

"Tch. I like saying the same thing." But it's a retort that's more wry than anything, and his sidelong glance doesn't stay on her as he says it, wandering a little bit now. Namie isn't the only one that's probably more stubborn than healthily recommended, and Shizuo is fully aware that he isn't one to talk himself.

Something about this small exchange seems to ease his mood a margin more, though--or maybe that's in tandem with being able to walk beside her like this, in some semblance of helpfulness should the need arise. Shizuo's really almost tempted to ask her if she needs any help with walking--he'd think nothing whatsoever of scooping her up again, true, but being somebody to lean on would also be more or less acceptable. With how insistent she is on being fine, though...he holds off, at least for now, even if he continues to keep a close eye on the pattern of her steps for any sign of a stumble.

The silence that briefly stretches between them isn't entirely uncomfortable, even if there's still a bit of tense atmosphere to be had just from the situation on the whole. Sirens start piping up from behind as they turn a corner, and Shizuo doesn't move to look at them either, quietly relieved to be out of sight of them too. (That shit really is too loud and high-maintenance, even if it all means well.) He does expect some sort of explanation to be forthcoming eventually, though, and Shizuo is somewhat glad when Namie does speak up at length.

"...Yeah?" He nods slowly, as they go, resisting the urge to look up and trace the smoke over their heads again. But he doesn't push it, either, even if the concerned sort of curiosity still eats at him. He doubts he'd want to be much interrogated in her shoes either, after all.

The retort is enough to make one corner of her lips curve upward, a half smile in the place of a laugh. Maybe it's part of why she doesn't mind Shizuo so much, both the retort itself and the topic of how stubborn the two of them are. "I'll believe it when you learn how to pull bullets out of yourself. I can do that."

It's impossible to tell if she's entirely serious about that and even she isn't sure since she's never had the opportunity to try removing bullets from herself. But, serious or not, it's still a harmless jab on his retort. The mood has lightened a little more and, while it's better that his mood not be so serious, it's not the biggest help to her and her burns. No matter how much thought she puts into it, the drain of adrenaline has given way to what feels like fire still against her skin, the heat of the burns feeling like it's radiating outward to the rest of her arm and leg.

Their conversation, as limited as she's keeping it, becomes her distraction instead. "My boss pissed off the man I was meeting," she continues to explain after a little longer, sighing to herself as she tries not to focus on Izaya and how much she wants to strangle him right now. "He thought he was meeting the person who made him mad, so he and his friends did that."

There's a vague nod in the direction of the smoke as she briefly glances over at Shizuo. "I may kill my boss on Monday."

"Ah, hey, how about some credit? Bet I could figure it out if I tried..." Just keep digging around until you find the bullet, right? He half-mumbles this around his cigarette, as he moves a hand to his mouth to adjust it--or maybe it's an automatic gesture to muffle his own almost-smile in turn, in that brief moment of humor between them. Maybe this is why he doesn't mind Namie either, really...exchanges like this. Not many people think to try it with him, something like this sort of banter--too afraid of inadvertently setting off his temper, maybe--and so the few that do are all the more appreciated for it, even if Shizuo might not even entirely realize it.

He's quiet again after that, though, and his patience earns him more of the story at length. Keeping his gaze forward this time, and nursing his cigarette absently, Shizuo's frown still deepens as the explanation goes on. Something work-related, then? And a meeting gone very wrong...ah, what job did Namie even have again? Something about being a secretary? Trying to line up secretarial work with almost being set on fire is difficult to say the least, but Shizuo finds he can't really not believe it could get as bad as that, either. Not like he's ever been a secretary before--and besides that, there are a lot of batshit people in this city. Including the kind to set people on fire over shitty grudges, sure...

Still, though. Shizuo looks over in time to meet her glance, finally, and he scoffs a little at her declaration of possible murder. "Sounds like you've got a pretty shitty boss on your hands, yeah. Might be a good chance to look into other jobs, ah?"

After all, for someone that's made it a habit of angrily declaring multiple people hypothetically dead on a daily basis, Namie's statement is hardly a particularly shocking one. Whether or not she'll go through with it, well...probably not likely? (Not like he ever has--) And it's probably some more grim humor in itself anyway. ...Probably.

But this does finally give Shizuo the context he needs to assess what he ought to actually be angry at. --Which, apparently, is...not actually much at all? Significantly calmer than he had been to start, and finding out only after the fact with the injured party more in immediate need of help first, Shizuo is a little more discouraged from moving to action now. But he still scowls, as he mulls over it all. "Guess those people you met are probably halfway out of town by now though, huh? Bunch of shitty bastards..." He has to stop himself from champing down on his cigarette, and puffs a distracted plume off to the side instead...before he looks over to Namie again.

She hasn't made any active indication to the contrary, but the tenseness in her expression and frame kind of gives it away. Close as she is now, the burns are easier to make out and look all the angrier for it. ...Shizuo only vaguely remembers what a burn actually, properly feels like--it doesn't feel like anything at all, these days--but he does recall that it generally hurts like hell. And walking still seems to be a hassle for her...and, finally, his concern begins to outweigh his inclination to not impose.

"--Hey. You can lean if you want." The offer is a sudden one, after a longer pause--almost awkward, in its bluntness, and Shizuo only meets her eyes briefly for it. But, stepping closer beside her, he also offers his arm. "Walking around like that looks like a pain. ...You know how much farther we've got?"

Edited 2016-04-03 04:38 (UTC)

"And you're lucky enough that you don't have to figure it out." The exchange is something she doesn't get with many people. Or anyone, really, unless exchanging subtle to deliberate threats with Izaya counts as banter in some way. Whether or not is does, Shizuo is the only one she's had more relaxed exchanges like this with and it's... nice. Reluctant as she is to admit anything, even to herself, she wouldn't mind coming into contact with Shizuo more often.

Though, it would be better if coming into contact didn't follow the trend of injuries being involved every time. Luckily, her job doesn't usually involve getting hurt and the chance meeting proves that there is the possibility of the two of them running into one another outside of his calling for her help.

That Shizuo doesn't know who she works for makes the statement about her boss almost funny coming from him. There's no acknowledgement of it - it's not like she's going to tell him who she works for unless she wants to test her ability to bring him back down again - but she does shake her head slightly. "Shitty doesn't begin to cover it. If I could get a different job, I would."

But she's all but sold her soul for the time being and she's stuck waiting things out or honestly trying to kill Izaya. Which, as tempting as it is, is very unlikely without the possibility of another job to take immediately after losing the one she currently has.

His assessment of the men who caused her injuries earns a slight nod. "Probably." The answer is indifferent because those men, idiots as they were, still aren't the main cause of this. Even so, the anger has all filtered away by this point and even the talk of Izaya hasn't been enough to spark it again. Whether it's because the injuries are just draining or the fact that Shizuo is a good distraction, she's not sure. And she's not going to think about it enough to figure it out.

She's pushing that thought off when she hears his offer and her attention shifts to him again, watching as he steps closer and offers his arm. Pride wants her to restate that she's fine and continue on like she is, but this seems like a decent medium between walking on her own and being carried. So, after a moment, she hooks her arm around his offered one, elbow hooked and forearm resting against his arm so she can grab hold of his sleeve with her fingers as she leans into him. "... Thank you."

And then she looks ahead at the buildings along the street ahead of them, a small sigh exhaled before: "Another four blocks this way and two to the left."

It's true, if Shizuo actually had any idea just who this particular boss actually is, his commentary would probably be. Considerably less mild, to say the very least. But Namie keeps her expression straight enough that the irony passes safely over his head. Instead talk of different jobs and their impossibility ends up earning a faintly sympathetic frown, and he comments no further on that particular front. There's probably a variety of reasons why Namie couldn't change jobs, and he's not about to prod that much into her personal affairs.

Besides, the next few moments end up being distracting enough that it's almost soon forgotten. In all honesty Shizuo had been fully expecting Namie to reject his offer; after all, she'd already gone out of her way to state she was fine enough for walking in the first place. But at least he could say that he'd tried, instead of just hanging around beside her entirely uselessly as she tries to walk around with burns.

--She doesn't actually reject it, though, and that would have been surprising enough all by itself. Shizuo ends up giving Namie a startled glance mostly on account of the grip on his arm and the negligible weight as she does lean into him, though--before he trains his eyes forward down the street again, frowning mostly at himself. ...After all, it's odd, and it doesn't make any sense. --With quite a while passed since that particularly awkward night, and the pretty different circumstances now (including, well, being actually dressed on his part), Shizuo had figured this would feel as normal as it might have been to have any other acquaintance leaning on him or something. ...But his face is still warming a little anyway...?

Ah, dammit, this isn't the time for this stupid shit-- "Right. So, not too far, then...guess I--what the hell are you looking at?!"

The hike in volume and the accompanying almost-hostile irritation are probably more than a little startling, but none of it is directed Namie's way; instead, Shizuo's glaring at a passerby approaching from ahead, one of the first for them to run into over the course of this walk. The man, who had been staring a bit at the both of them, visibly almost jumps at the snap, and hastily shuffles past them, giving Shizuo a particularly wide berth. (Namie had assumed right; people are a lot less likely to ask questions when you're walking with somebody else, even injured. Especially if that somebody else happens to be Heiwajima Shizuo, apparently...)

Shizuo glowers until the man has passed, frame tensed...and then settles with some effort and a long breath afterwards, trying to remember where he'd left off. "...I mean. Guess I haven't got anything else to do tonight, anyway. And I kind of remember how to fix burns and shit, I think...if you want help with that?" And he's right back to that straightforward but oddly awkward sort of tone again.

His discomfort around her that first night isn't something she's forgotten, but she did assume that had a lot to do with his lack of clothing and her being a woman. So it's not something that immediately crosses her mind when accepting his offer of help. Not until she catches sight of the startled look she gets for accepting it. It's not enough to make her let go - something that will inevitably cause a lot more awkwardness than just continuing on - but she does turn her own attention forward again so he's not on the receiving end of her watching him again.

She's musing over the way he reacts to her when he starts talking again and that's almost immediately cut off by the loud snap at the man approaching them - how sudden it is even enough to startle her this time. She looks up at Shizuo for a second then at the man who hurries by them, casting a glance back to watch him go before she turns her attention forward again. Her fingers let up on his sleeve and tightly grasp his arm instead, as if to remind him that she's beside him in his tenseness so he doesn't turn and say anything else.

"Once we're at my building, you can leave if you want." There's no obligation to stick around once she's home and she wants to make that clear. The favor of walking her home in this situation is more than enough of a help already. But the offer to help with the burns is filed away in case he does decide to stay.

After a few moments, she looks over at her grip on his arm and then up at him.

"That guy was probably staring at us because of this," she points out, as if musing on it aloud as she gently bumps against him as they walk. Their proximity is close enough to earn looks, she's sure, though it's not as if there's anything to it beyond him helping her. She's still conscious enough of his initial reaction not to bluntly mention that they might look like a couple, though, since she gets the feeling saying something like that even in passing will make him more awkward than he already is.

Objectively, it only make sense that they're drawing over glances, even in this quieter vein of town; between the man in the bartender's suit and the decidedly burned and disheveled woman at his arm, they make an odd pair. --Couple, even, by all accounts. (To those recognizing Shizuo for who he is, well, that's going to be pretty surprising news to say the least.) It's not like Shizuo isn't used to having all matter of looks cast his way on a daily basis anyway, either. And yet...

"Well that guy shouldn't have been," he grumbles irritably, tugging his cigarette from his lips with a free hand as they resume regular progress down the sidewalk. "Like you haven't got enough to deal with without staring idiots too. Half the people in this city can't remember their god damn manners..."

As if he's a connoisseur of anything to do with manners at all--which he isn't, honestly. But--it's just the most basic sort of courtesy? ...No, not even that...he couldn't actually pin down the real source of his particular ire here if he tried, but that doesn't stop the offended feeling anyway. Not an offence on his own behalf, but an offence on Namie's, who already has to put up with being helped by this sort of person...

Because she really probably would have been better off being found and helped by literally anyone else but him, as far as Shizuo's concerned. But, here they are now--and there's little to do about that. Distracted by the firmer grip on his arm paired with that gentle nudge, and putting rather a lot of effort into not visibly reacting to these things any more embarrassingly than he already has, Shizuo is delayed in noticing just how far gone his cigarette actually is. He flicks it aside to the ground, when he does, and resists the urge to dig up a new one just yet.

Instead, refocusing on their progress down the street--and pulling Namie a little closer without really thinking about it, automatically wanting to steady her leaning on him a bit more--Shizuo sighs, and thinks back on where the conversation's tangent left off. Ah, right... "--Anyway. Don't know about leaving. You don't think those guys won't try another shot at you?" It feels like a reasonable concern (that's not at all biased in any particular way). Shizuo shrugs slightly. "It's better if you get patched up without any problems, so I'll keep the problems off you until then, huh?"

The staring honestly doesn't bother her and it's something she would've let slide with little more than a glare shot in the direction of the man as he passed, so Shizuo's reaction and resulting irritation is something she thinks is wasted. It's not as if the man posed a threat of any kind - though it's gotten increasingly harder to tell who might pose a threat in passing months anyway, so maybe it's for the best regardless.

On the topic of manners, though, Shizuo is right. Not that Namie gives much of a damn about that either, but she's not entirely surprised that his irritation stems from something like that. When he's not mad, he's probably one of the most mindful people she's ever met. Which says a lot, about both her and the people who are in her life.

What he doesn't realize is that she wouldn't have accepted help offered by most. Short of passing out and being helped without her immediate knowledge, she would've rejected any stranger on the street along with most people she knows. In this instance, he somehow manages to fall within a number of people that can probably be counted on one hand who help is acceptable from. So, if it weren't him, she would be making her way home alone while shooting looks at anyone who gave a second thought to trying to offer help.

The pull closer earns a sideways glance, but no comment as she leans into him. Her gaze fixes on the sidewalk far ahead of them instead, as if to remind herself that it's not that far of a walk. The point Shizuo makes is a valid one - the concern that they might come after her isn't something she's worried about, but it's not impossible to think that Izaya slipped her address to them - and she shrugs against the arm she's holding. "I don't think they'll come back. But I don't mind your company," she admits with a nod. And, after a few moments, she continues, "How was your day before this?"

To Shizuo, offering her help had felt like the natural course of action--even if maybe normally he wouldn't have been quite so insistent about it. He's not some kind of chivalrous hero character, and he's not about to put any effort into trying to be one when there are plenty others out there better suited to it. Less so if somebody doesn't want him around anyway, which would also not be particularly surprising. But Namie had helped him out of a rough spot before this, and even if she probably wouldn't agree, Shizuo still figures he owes her something for that. So, this should make them properly even now.

--Doesn't mind his company, though? Shizuo manages to keep himself from turning to stare at her at that, barely, but the even pace of his steps still falters for a fraction of a second, and...he ducks his head to adjust his shades, which didn't actually need adjusting at all. But it's something to do, and something to mask whatever expression crosses his face for a moment. Her following question is almost a relief, breaking the awkward silence that Shizuo would have almost certainly let fall between them otherwise; he latches onto it before his thoughts can wander too far with the surprise of this first bit of news.

"Before this? Actually, pretty boring." Dropping his hand from his shades, Shizuo fiddles at the collar of his shirt a little instead, blinking ahead at nothing in particular and frown very nearly quirking into something like a smile for a moment. He doesn't sound unhappy about this. "Got a lot of work done, Tom-san was pretty happy. ...We don't get boring days too often."

It could be the fact that she's helped him before that's had her giving into this so easily. Or it could just be that she knows he's not pulling some kind of knight in shining armor act for the sake of asking for anything later. Shizuo isn't the knight in shining armor type or, as far as she's been able to tell, someone who would shamelessly demand some kind of return for help he offered in the first place.

Or it could just be that he's decent company and that's rare enough. She doesn't look over at him after she says it, but she feels the strangeness in his step, like one foot dragging for a moment before he catches himself. It doesn't throw her off with their height difference, so she leaves it without question as she catches the movement of his free hand out of the corner of her eye. The choice to move their conversation on is obviously a good one, she realizes, because she's bordered on making things awkward again. But she's starting to get more of an idea of what throws Shizuo off around her.

She hums softly after he speaks, tilting her head as she glances up at him again. "You sound like you'd be happy with more boring days," she notes, her attention falling to the burns on her arm before she trains it ahead of them again. They've got about a block and a half left before they need to turn and she feels some relief knowing that. "I'm sorry for making your day less boring."

Shizuo mistakenly figures that Namie didn't notice his odd reaction just now, since she makes no visible comment on it. Either way, it helps him resume his usual demeanor soon enough. He hums back a sound of agreement in turn, at the remark she does voice; she'd guessed right on that front, at any rate.

"Boring days are nice. Nothing happens." And if nothing has happened, then nobody has gotten hurt. Namie's apology is what finally has him looking over to her again, though, and shaking his head; he waves it off with a hand. "Hmph. Don't worry about it, though. Boring days never last very long anyway. And it's not like you ruined it on purpose, right? I'm guessing you'd rather have a boring day than burns, too."

Honestly, he'd be pleased but also pretty unsettled if he ever did have more than a few boring days in a row. Something about such a nice thing being too good to be true, or whatever. Shizuo knows he's not that lucky of a person. Glancing back around, he does think he recognizes this street, now he thinks about it. ...Well, sort of? It's not dark, and it's not raining, so things still look pretty different. But he decides to venture it anyway, glancing back down to Namie. "Ah, I think we're pretty close now? How are you holding up?"

If she weren't holding on to him, it likely would've gone completely unnoticed. Which is part of why she doesn't comment on it - it's nothing big enough to warrant comment when she's fine with moving their conversation along. And she has some amount of interest in hearing about Shizuo through conversations like this.

"If I was going to ruin someone's day on purpose, it definitely wouldn't be yours." It's stated simply, because Shizuo doesn't fall into the surprisingly short list of people she's considered poisoning or maiming. Not because of the minimal favoritism she's shown toward him. (Of course not.) She moves on before giving it more thought than necessary. "Mm, a boring day would be better than this, yes."

Admittedly, most of her days are run of the mill and boring enough. She's still wary, but it's obvious that her level of suspicion has fallen slightly thanks to the usual routine and this may have been Izaya's way of reminding her of the type of person she works for. It's still reason to consider choking him on Monday, but she won't make the mistake of going into another meeting as easily as she did the one earlier.

The comment earns a nod toward the corner they're approaching. "Almost. We turn here and my building is on the next block," she answers, glancing over at him afterward. "I'll make it. Do you know what a burn feels like?"

"Good to know I've got that going for me, at least." It's an answer that's more wry than anything. But somehow Shizuo doesn't have much trouble believing that Namie would be more than capable of ruining somebody's day if she actually tried, either--and probably in a way more practical than getting herself burned in order to inconvenience someone else. She has a rather dry and steady personality, but she's also pretty good at cutting to the chase of things; the kind of bluntness that can get pretty sharp, or something? Plus she knows medical things, he muses, and doctor types always seem to have something unsettling going on, on top of knowing a dozen different ways to mess people up. Just look at Shinra...

Not that it really worries him, nor has he found Namie particularly unsettling in any way as of yet. She's somehow still putting up with him even after the misfortunes they've both had so far, after all. Things will be a different story for her boss, he supposes, and as far as he can tell that guy deserves whatever he gets anyway.

Shizuo nods to himself as Namie confirms the area, faintly pleased at himself for getting it right after all. Right, turning at that corner...that might have even been the same corner he turned last time, carrying her around in the rain. Shizuo glances down at the sidewalk for a moment, half-expecting to spot traces of the blood he'd been trailing around at the time or whatever--but no, that would be silly. That was awhile ago, and it was raining besides. --Namie's question sinks in after a second's delay, though, and Shizuo looks up.

Burns? "What? Hey, what kind of question is that?" He regards her with something between surprise and something vaguely indignant, his frown setting back in. "I've been burned before, yeah. Just because I don't feel them now doesn't mean I never used to..."

She likely didn't mean anything by it, though--and Shizuo knows this, and pauses to remind himself. He shrugs it off with a sigh. "Messed around with the stove without paying attention once, when I was a kid. I remember. Hurts like hell, right?"

Edited (i know how to use pronouns i swear......) 2016-04-06 21:49 (UTC)

The question isn't asked with any amount of sarcasm or doubt behind it. It's offered plainly enough that there's no hiding the look of surprise she gives him over his reaction to it. She does belatedly realize, though, that maybe her phrasing could have been better. Have you been burned before likely would've come across less... she's not really sure how her initial question came across, but she's sure it would've come across better than the first.

His reaction doesn't make her worry, but her own lips settle into a small frown as she looks away from him again, her grip on his arm loosening as she does. He continues and she acknowledges it with a nod. "It does."

After a few moment of silence, she lets out a quiet huff, like it bothers her that her question managed to bother him the way it did. It's more than this bothers her at all, that it doesn't just roll off her back like most things regarding other people do.

"I should've asked if you'd been burned before." It's offered after a little longer, a belated correction to her own question. She doesn't look at him again as she speaks, realizing he's gotten more apologies in this walk alone than she's genuinely offered to anyone in years, she's sure. "That was what I meant with my question. I'm sorry if it sounded... worse than that."

She's still not entirely sure how it sounded, but she leaves her apology as it is, the frown still present as they make their way toward the second block and her apartment building.

Really, it's not as if he's never been asked questions phrased like that before anyway. Because he has been, plenty enough times, with a gradient of reactions towards them in turn. And, in further honesty, he usually does respond a lot more poorly to those sorts of questions--and the phrasing inherent that he isn't a normal person who's had normal experiences like feeling pain in some sort of way in the past. That's a pretty rude assumption to make, after all, and some people are just rude like that.

But Namie, frank and straightforward person that she's established herself to be, does not seem like the sort of person inclined towards those kinds of insults necessarily. At least, not as far as Shizuo can assume; and she does seem visibly bothered by her own phrasing, after the fact. Shizuo blinks down at her, surprised at this reaction despite himself (even though he'd brought up the tactless phrasing of her question in the first place), and as she speaks he shakes his head, waving off her words with his free hand a little more gently this time.

"...Yeah, you probably should have asked that instead. Wouldn't have sounded as bad. But it's fine. Pretty used to it." They start on the second block now, and Shizuo turns his attention forward, beginning to guide both their steps around the corner. His own frown, while still present, already lightens marginally. "Besides, I'm guessing you don't talk with people like this a lot, huh?"

His reaction shouldn't be so surprising when it's obvious that most people regard him the same way Izaya does - as some kind of monster. Or, in the case of a lot of the idiots on the street, a myth they see as a challenge. So, it is understandable that Shizuo would be defensive about things like this because, from what she's seen of him, it seems like it's more surprising for him when anyone is willing to treat him like a normal person.

Which is what she considers him, in all honesty. He has trouble controlling his anger and his body has built up a ridiculously high tolerance for pain and wounds, but she's seen how awkward and embarrassed he can get, brief moments of amusement, and that stupid concern that he seems to have more of than he should. If anything, he's more normal than she is. And he manages to hit the nail on the head with his question after he waves off her apology, which she lets go with what he says so the subject isn't dwelled on longer than it already has been.

"Not really, no." Izaya doesn't really count for much and, outside of him, she has little contact with anyone on a regular basis. Even seeing his sisters was just a business agreement and involved little to no conversation outside of what needed to be discussed. After a moment, she amends her answer, "Not at all, honestly. I guess that's strange, isn't it?"

Shizuo nods slowly at her response, half to Namie and half to himself; he doesn't look particularly surprised when she confirms it, but instead there's an oddly thoughtful bent to his expression now, as he considers it.

"It's probably strange, yeah. For most people, or whatever. ...I sort of figured, though...it's kind of familiar. I'm still not too great at talking to people like this either." He keeps his eyes on the street ahead in favor of looking over to her, still, but it's not necessarily out of any sort of aversion now. They turn the corner, and he starts scanning the buildings next to the sidewalk, still absently thoughtful. "Finding the right people is hard, isn't it? I've found a few now, but it's taken awhile. And it takes a lot of getting used to. But it seems like the sort of thing you get better at with practice, at least..."

Shizuo still considers himself strangely lucky to be able to get in as much practice as he has, honestly. He'll probably never really understand just why the few friends he does have hang around so persistently the way they do--despite everything he does, and everything he could to. It's something to be thankful about, but also more than a little baffling. And so, certainly, he has no judgment to pass on Namie about having decent people around to have decent conversations with.

A familiar building face catches his eye, and he perks up a little, turning to indicate it. "Oh, that's the one there, isn't it? Your apartment place?"

It doesn't seem like normal conversation should be that hard. But being around someone she doesn't need to manipulate or feel hostility toward makes her realize just how little normal conversation she's had. That may be the strangest part of it, though - that Shizuo has managed to fall into some mysterious category that falls somewhere between neutral interest and Seiji. The kind of category that apparently makes him worth apologizing to when she says things that seem to offend him.

"I've never looked for the right people," she admits, her gaze still fixed ahead of them as well. They're close enough that she further loosens her hold on his arm, knowing it won't be long before they're inside and she'll be able to lean against the wall of the elevator on their way up. "I've always been too focused on other things, I suppose." And she doesn't usually make it a point to help people she barely knows - or accept help from those people - but that's something she knows she's already said to him.

The turn brings her attention over and she nods her confirmation, somewhat surprised he manages to remember the building considering how he ended up in it the last time. "That's it."

She considers offering the option to leave again, but it's not as if she's forcing him to come along. Because once they near the building, she completely releases his arm so she can walk the last bit of distance without help, remaining beside him as she does.

Shizuo will probably remain unaware of the actual significance of her apologies and general attitude towards him for awhile yet. He's still not even over being surprised that she's been consistently willing to put up with him more than strictly necessary already, after all--it doesn't leave room for questioning much else, at least not yet.

"Yeah? That makes sense, I guess..." She does seem like the sort that's almost happier working by herself than others. Shizuo couldn't really grasp that kind of idea without the context of being actively dangerous to others in the first place--which is the reason he doesn't reach out to many himself--but he's not going to discount the possibility of other reasons out there. To each their own, or however the saying goes.

Her grip on his arm loosens and leaves, earning a startled blink on Shizuo's part as Namie makes for the building entrance--over the course of the walk he'd almost gotten used to the feeling of it, and the negligible warm weight at his side. But, they are at her apartment now, so it only makes sense...Shizuo trails alongside her, slipping his hands into his pockets instead.

At least the lobby's almost empty right at this moment. There's only a singular man, emerging from the elevator as they approach it; he blinks and stares in surprise at the two of them walking up, but Shizuo levels him a silent glare over Namie's shoulder, and he quails. Evidently recognizing Shizuo at least, he almost trips himself in his haste to move around them. --But now they're close enough to slip inside the elevator doors before they close again.

She doesn't consider the time they've spent together so far to be putting up with Shizuo. He doesn't actively do things that get under her skin, so there's honestly nothing to put up with. Which may be why she doesn't push for him to go now that they've arrived at her building. Like she said before, she doesn't mind his company. It's more than can be said for most people.

There's no attempt to elaborate on the things that kept her busy enough to avoid making friends for most of her life. They haven't delved too deep into conversation about one another and she's got little urge to be the one who tries to push them in that direction.

And she has other things to focus on, like getting inside and to her apartment. The man is only worth a quick sideways glance for Namie and she says nothing until they're in the elevator and the doors have closed.

"Has anyone told you that you'd make a decent bodyguard?" She asks the question as she hits the button for her floor and leans back against the wall nearest to the button panel, taking the time to carefully fish her keys from her bag while she looks his way. The man stumbling on his way around them was a hard thing to miss, after all.

They're inside the elevator and Shizuo's leaning against the wall opposite of Namie himself, watching as she punches the floor number into the panel. Out of the deepening evening outside and in the brighter lighting of the elevator, her burns are a lot more visible now, and hardly look any more pleasant for it.

Ah, does he really remember how to help with burns so well? Shizuo suddenly isn't as certain--it's been a very long time, after all--but well, no, it shouldn't be too hard...and he's already committed to this anyway. Helping her out, with something like this sort of injury. She's done it enough times for him already, so this is really just another favor to return, if not a bit more unconventional. (That's what he's been telling himself, anyway.)

Namie's words pull him from his thoughts, though--expression almost preoccupied until now, his eyes snap up from the burns of her legs. "Huh? ...Oh, yeah. Tom-san says that a lot, actually. ...Guess I technically am his bodyguard most days? Since clients get unruly a lot, or hold grudges and stuff." Shizuo shrugs against the elevator wall, glancing down to the floor now. "...Still not sure about it, though. A bodyguard just as likely to hurt the guy he's guarding...doesn't sound like a very good one, does it?"

She makes it a point to avoid looking down at her burns again, all to aware of them thanks to the pain. The lack of steady movement seems to give way to more pain in her leg, but she can't say if that's her imagination or something that's honestly happening. Regardless, she focuses on her keys and Shizuo, knowing she's close to getting some amount of relief soon enough.

"You should give yourself more credit." She glances up at the small screen above the button panel, watching the numbers change for a second before she returns her attention to him. "You worry about hurting people more than some of the people around you worry about it. I doubt this Tom-san would spend so much time around you if he didn't trust you and the same probably goes for the other people in your life."

The elevator slows to a stop as she's speaking and she pushes herself away from the wall, key in hand as she steps out of the doors and glances over her shoulder, giving him a brief look as she issues a request. "Come help me take care of these."

Mainly for the sake of proving he's entirely capable of helping instead of hurting and not because she honestly needs it.

Shizuo almost seems to shrink against the wall a little more, at her words. They're not unfamiliar--and maybe they're not untrue, either. But it's not quite enough to lift his eyes from the floor.

"--Hm. Tom-san's learned how to get out of the way really fast when things get bad, I think." The words are fond, if not also a little wry. But maybe there will be a day when Tom-san can't move fast enough-- That part goes unsaid, though it hangs in the pause between his words anyway, some unpleasantly likely phantom of the future. Shizuo sighs, a very small and soft sort of breath. "Guess some people do trust me though, yeah. For some reason. ...I just don't really trust myself yet."

And that's the sticking point, isn't it? Or maybe it's just being practical. The difference is probably somewhere in there, but Shizuo has yet to get around to finding it. Still, that doesn't stop him from admitting it; it's the truth, and hardly something particularly worth hiding.

Gravity shifts and settles under their heels, and the elevator doors open, and Shizuo finally looks up--just in time to catch Namie's brief look as she steps out first and gives him her request. ...It gives Shizuo some pause, despite himself, staring after her a little. Even though he'd just resolved to hang around and help anyway just a minute ago...but after their small exchange just now, it's difficult to miss the reason behind her request with this sort of timing.

The elevator doors are set to close soon, at least, and that spurs him a little too. Shizuo nods, and steps out after her just in time. "Alright," he says, as if this is the first time the idea of helping her burns has occurred to him or something. And he follows a little closer to Namie than perhaps strictly necessary as they move down the hall to her door, mostly to make sure she doesn't have any trouble making the walk there.

It's obvious that he lacks the amount of confidence in himself for trust. It's one of those things she can't entirely understand given that she's likely got enough confidence for both of them combined, but she knows better than to make any comment on it. Nothing she says it going to change his level of trust in himself anyway, not in one conversation.

She offers a slight nod at what he says, at the acknowledgement of the lack of trust he has in himself, and leaves it at that. Because while she might be letting the conversation end there for the sake of avoiding roaming into more prying territory, she does intend to show him that she trusts him, for whatever that's worth.

The trip from the elevator to her door is the easiest of the walking she's done since getting burned in the first place. Her goal being right in front of her is enough driving force to keep her walking with minimal issue, ignoring the throbbing in both her leg and arm in favor of reaching and unlocking her front door to let the two of them inside.

And once she steps in, her shoes are toed off and her keys are dropped back into her purse, which is deposited on the floor by the doorway to the kitchen as she passes it. She doesn't stop until she disappears from sight, turning the corner into the hall so she can pause and get her tights off, wincing as she carefully pulls them away from the burn on her leg. Her shirt probably needs to go as well given the burns on her arm and shoulder, but she's willing to hold off on that a little longer since her sleeve is torn and not bothering the burn nearly as much as her tights were.

With the fabric balled up and ready to be thrown away, she steps back out of the hall with a soft sigh. "The bathroom would be best for this."

The short trip down the hall passes without incident, and then they're stepping into her complex. Shizuo follows Namie inside, and this time he does pause to toe off his own shoes too--since it's the polite thing to do and he isn't tipsy on blood loss this time. Ah, a lot of things are pretty different this time...but the layout of everything is still the same, as Shizuo notes when he straightens.

By the time he's finished with his own shoes Namie's already walked past the kitchen and turned into the hall; briefly preoccupied with considering her apartment in a not-recently-bleeding-out light for once, it's a few moments' delay before it occurs to Shizuo that maybe he ought to follow her. Right...but--turning the corner after her, he ends up catching her halfway through working off her tights, and decides abruptly that maybe he ought to just. Wait outside the hall a little longer after all. Which is what Shizuo does, stepping sharply backwards behind the corner again before he sees anything else he really shouldn't and rubbing at his face a little. Man, he really needs to remember to be more considerate in this sort of situation...

But, again, he's never ended up in this sort of situation with a woman before. With burns involved...well, of course clothing around those areas would be a problem. Where else was she burned? Her arm at least, he's pretty sure--maybe her shoulder too? Which means either they'll have to cut off her sleeve or get...the whole shirt off too....oh.

Namie emerges from the hall shortly, cutting off these musings abruptly--still standing close to the hall entrance, Shizuo draws a startled step back at her seemingly sudden reappearance, but attempts to arrange his expression into something not embarrassing. Or at least less embarrassing. He rubs at his neck instead. "--Oh, yeah. We need water to soak the burns for a bit, right?"

She hears his footsteps approaching the hall as she's getting out of her tights and, while the thought to say something to stop him from rounding the corner does cross her mind, she's honestly not so worried about it to bother. Her hands are out from under her skirt before he sees her, so he's spared the sight of anything that might further his embarrassment - something she already knows to expect the moment she catches sight of him appearing and disappearing from the edge of her vision. If his own near nudity was embarrassing for him between the two of them, she can only imagine what the eventual loss of her shirt is going to do to him, even when she has every intention of keeping herself covered up in front of him.

There's something almost amusing about his reaction to her when she exits the hall, maybe just the look on his face coupled with the knowledge that there are people out there who are scared of him. It's a little hard to believe when he looks like that.

Namie nods as she moves to lead the way to the bathroom, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Shizuo's actually following her and that he hasn't decided that he suddenly has other places to be. "Everything we need is in the bathroom and it's the easiest place to get to water and towels."

The end of her statement comes as she steps into the bathroom and switches the light on, taking a moment to get things out from the cabinet under the sink and the closet before she settles on the closed toilet. And, once there, she pulls at the rip in her sleeve to get a better look at the burn on her arm, rolling her shoulder with a slight wince.

True, Shizuo in his calmer states really isn't very scary in the least. Some people meeting him for the first time often find it hard to believe he really is the same guy that's built such a reputation for violence. (Though, generally, people also usually expect--someone rather larger.) But Namie has been quite fortunate to encounter him more often in his calmer moods than not.

Then again, she doesn't give him many reasons to be angry in the first place. --But it's even rarer to catch Shizuo being particularly embarrassed about things, too, and Namie has somehow managed to achieve this multiple times as well. At least it isn't intentional, on her part. Probably. Is that even normal, though, or is there some other reason...? Shizuo still couldn't explain it to himself if he tried.

Either way, Shizuo still follows Namie regardless, though it'd be lying to say he doesn't have some very vague second thoughts about the whole thing. But that shouldn't matter, he reminds himself as he steps into the bathroom, because it's not like he's going to try to make this weird anyway. Just keep things quick and painless. ...Well, as painless as it's going to get, with burns like these...

He lets Namie settle on the closed toilet, drifting over to the sinktop instead where she's set out things. Shizuo tugs off his sunglasses and tucks them into the usual waistcoat pocket before switching on the faucet, taking up a towel and starting to soak it. But he ends up glancing Namie's way as she tests her shoulder and winces like that, too. Right, looks like that counts for a burn on the shoulder for sure... "So, if I remember right--guess we should probably clean those burns up first. Which ones feel the worst right now, do you think?"

Honestly he half wants to ask what she'd like to do about her sleeve too--and her shirt in general, which already now feels like a miniature elephant in the room between them. But for some reason Shizuo can't seem to track down the right words to actually bring it up yet...and so he glances down to the sink instead for the moment as he debates this, frowning at the towel between his hands.

She does seem to have an issue with embarrassing him. Or they just have the misfortune of ending up in situations that are embarrassing for him, really. It's not something she aims to do considering how awkward it makes him, but she has some kind of knack for it, even without saying a word at times. Which is amazing, given that it's usually her bluntness that bothers people the most.

The bathroom isn't tiny, but having two people inside of it seems to make the room feel smaller. Probably because it's the first time she's been in it with anyone else. It's then that Namie realizes she's seen Shizuo more often than she's seen her own brother as of late and that's. Well, that's a strange things to consider. And it's stranger that she doesn't particularly mind it.

That's something she's willing to put on the pain that comes along with the burns, though. His question earns a look up toward him and there's no real consideration before she answers, "All of them."

But that's not a good answer and she knows it, so she pushes herself up from her seated position and reaches over, carefully pulling the largest dry towel from the stack before she motions to him, swirling a finger away from her. "Face the door for a second."

And then she's unfolding the towel and putting it down on the toilet seat so she can reach for the hem of her shirt, sure that the movement alone even without the show of skin will make him turn away if the request doesn't immediately work.

Shizuo honestly appreciates her bluntness quite a lot, if nothing else--being a pretty blunt person himself, at the best of times. Genuinely straightforward people are surprisingly difficult to come by, as far as he can tell, so it's almost refreshing when it does happen...as if conversation's easier, somehow. It'd almost be pretty ideal with Namie, really, if it weren't for that--inexplicable awkwardness she keeps seeming to set off in him, at the exact same time...

Lanky as he is, his height probably doesn't help the mild sense of crowding in the bathroom at present, even if Shizuo has already been folding his frame a little in his habitually innocuous sort of way since entering. But ah, speaking of bluntness...in retrospect, he supposes that maybe his question just now likely was. A little unnecessary. One burn probably does feel about the same as the other to most people, right? (And they all hurt like hell, as he and Namie have mutually established in earlier conversation...)

Before Shizuo can begin to properly feel chagrined about this or venture an apology, though, Namie is standing up and reaching for a towel all of a sudden. This earns her a startled blink, on Shizuo's part, before she motions for him to turn around and her intention finally clicks. Ah.

Well, that does resolve the tiny elephant in the room now, doesn't it? Shizuo at least has the presence of mind to fumble the sink's faucet into turning off, and moving the damp towel he'd been working on to the counter before he draws a quick step back.

"--Oh. Right." Another step away, and then he turns to face the door, one hand on his hip and the other at his face again. He sort of wishes he hadn't taken off his sunglasses now...but at least turned away like this, he doesn't have to worry about whether the slight heat creeping into his cheeks will translate to anything visible for Namie. --Not yet, anyway. Shizuo feigns a great interest in the doorknob. "Just--let me know whenever you're ready, yeah?"

She could've been a little more helpful in regards to the question of her burns, but she doesn't see much point in delaying what's inevitably got to happen when the one on her arm feels like it may be the worst of the three. That's what leads her to standing and to motioning to Shizuo and it's as she turns her back to him in return - a secondary measure of privacy just in case something leads him to looking back at her, as unlikely as that is - that she realizes she should've done this and then had him follow her in. More for his sake than for her own.

Taking her shirt off is more of a pain than she's willing to admit and it's with great care that she manages it, a frown on her face the entire time. Her bra follows before she wraps the towel around herself, securing it so she's covered before she glances back at Shizuo then at the clothing that's been removed, covering her bra with her shirt before dropping them in the nearest corner to save him from increased embarrassment.

Then she reclaims her spot on the toilet, careful that she's not pulling at the towel and making sure she's as covered as she can be like this before she speaks up. "I'm ready."

Her eyes are fixed on the back of his head as she speaks, waiting for him to turn around so she can catch a glance of his face just to see if he's as embarrassed as she thinks he probably is. It really would be closer to amusing without the burns involved.

Her doing this inside the bathroom while he's still outside probably would have been...marginally less awkward, yes. Being in the same room like this makes it very difficult not to hear the rustle of Namie's shirt and not envision exactly what she's doing with it about now. Not to mention, now he's thinking about it...it feels incredibly improper being in the same room at all for this sort of thing, even if Shizuo has absolutely no intention of trying to cop a peek or anything of the sort. Maybe he should have tried to excuse himself entirely for a bit...that would have been the polite thing to do...why hadn't he thought about that? He'd been pretty distracted, he supposes, but that's not really a very good excuse and now he's in this sort of situation anyway--

By the time Namie's finished, Shizuo has tucked his hands in his pockets for lack of anything better to do with them, the circle of his thoughts culminating into a heavy frown half at the doorknob and half at himself. When she speaks up he straightens, but there's still a very small pause of reluctance before Shizuo does turn around.

It's not a very surprising sight, at least, since Namie had made her intentions clear enough between asking him to turn around and taking up a towel. Shizuo makes sure to keep his eyes to her face, when he does look at her, before stepping back over to the sink and bending his attention back down to the damp hand towel he'd prepared a little earlier. He's clearly keeping his expression schooled in a neutral frown (this takes some effort), but Shizuo can still feel the heat in his face and a glance at the mirror confirms the color in his cheeks to match it; he wrings out the towel a little and turns away back to Namie. --Whatever, this is fine. This is fine! She's not making a big deal of it so he's not going to either. Quick and painless, right...

"Okay, so." He looks to her arm and shouler now, out in the open without the shirt, and the burns do seem rather bad there... "Looks like your arm's got the worst of it. You've got some burns on your legs too, right? But your shoulder might be a bit trickier to reach, I guess...you think you could work on cleaning up your legs while I wipe up your shoulder? Here--" He offers her the damp hand towel. "You use this one while I soak another, huh?"

Lucky for Shizuo, she's not interested in polite in this situation, otherwise she would've requested he step out of the room herself. She's seen enough of the way he reacts around her to know he's not going to try to look once asked to look away and that's all she really needs. It's more for convenience than anything else, otherwise she would've put a little more effort into making the situation easier on him.

But she finishes quick enough and she's not surprised by the blush, the frown, or the way his eyes remain at her face when he looks over at her. It's something she almost wants to comment on, but she's started to consider his reactions to the things she says and she knows it would only earn more embarrassment and awkwardness if she were to say something now.

So she remains quiet instead, the arm that's still in good shape folded across her midsection as she looks down at her other arm. It's when he turns toward her that she looks up again and the small movement is enough to make her realize her hair will be in the way soon enough. She lifts her hand then, after pulling her arm away from middle, and reaches behind her head to hook her fingers around her hair so she can pull it over her shoulder to keep it away from the opposite one. And it's once her hair is out of the way that she's paying attention to what Shizuo is suggesting, nodding at the offer of both of them taking care of the burns. It's a good idea on more than one level - he can get to her shoulder with less issue and the two of them taking care of them means this should go a little quicker.

"Thank you," she replies as she accepts the towel, leaning forward in her spot so she can begin carefully cleaning her burned leg. Her attention remains on her leg as he moves to soak another towel, but she decides against leaving silence over the two of them again when she thinks he might appreciate the distraction of conversation.

"Have you always lived in Ikebukuro?"

She pulls her hair to one side, clearing the burn on her shoulder of any interference and also exposing the curve of her neck. That's pretty, he muses to himself--and then he has to grab that thought by the metaphorical collar and haul it backwards. What? Well, her hair is sort of pretty, but--no, what kind of thought even was that? This isn't the time for that sort of thing at all. Whatever that even was. Shizuo looks away and bends his focus on taking up another towel, instead, soaking it in more cool water as he attempts to distract himself from further thoughts about prettiness and Namie's apparent capacity for it.

When he wrings out the towel and turns to Namie, it's to inspect the burn he's assigned himself more closely this time, noting the angry red of it. The memory of how a burn feels is pretty vague by now, sure, but that doesn't keep Shizuo from pressing his towel over it as gently as he can, as he leans down a little to apply it. His free hand ends up settling further up the curve of her shoulder, very gingerly, half to keep Namie steady and half to keep himself steady too.

It's times like this he worries a lot about this strength and his control of it, after all--when it comes to more delicate things like this. He has to bend all his focus into making sure the hand with the towel doesn't inadvertently press too hard, or something, and the tension this concentration brings about is probably already visible in the set of his frame. But Namie speaks up with a question, and Shizuo still leans into that sort of distraction a little thankfully anyway, even if his face doesn't show it. The silence has been starting to stretch a bit...

"Ah, pretty much, yeah. My parents' house is more out of the way, but we've never been too far out. --Went to Raira when I was in high school." Shizuo pauses, lifting the towel away for a moment to fold it and press a new clean spot to her shoulder. This is still a little preoccupying, despite the vein of conversation. "...Hey, let me know if this starts hurting too much or something, alright?"

The reaction to the movement of her hair isn't something Namie picks up on with her focus fixed on her leg. Thinking about it, she's not sure she's ever dealt with burns like this in the past. Not so much the pain since these feel very similar to the smaller burns that happen on occasion when she's cooking, but the size is definitely more than she remembers dealing with before. And the size is what makes them a pain to deal with. While none of them are huge, they're not the kind a person gains from a small brush of a finger against the side of a pot.

But the towel on her leg helps. It's cooling and that gives her some relief despite the heat in her arm and shoulder. Heat which Shizuo is soon helping with and she finds herself glancing over then, looking at his hand then up at him.

Suddenly, she understands the awkwardness that came from her being so close to him when he was barely dressed. Having a hand on her makes her realize just how close he is and, while she doesn't feel quite as awkward, it's enough to make her all to aware of the fact that he's seeing more skin than anyone has in some time.

She's considering that as she watches the look on his face, taking in the concentration even as he answers her question. The tension is clear and she knows what it comes from, which is why she finds herself lifting her hand, the one closest to his arm, to carefully rest it against his arm without actually grabbing hold of him.

"It's helping." It stings, sure, but that's to be expected. The coolness of the cloth is a vast improvement to the angry heat she's been dealing with since being burned. Her hand doesn't move away from his arm, though, and the beginning of their conversation is momentarily put on hold. "Relax. You're not going to hurt me."

Absorbed as he is with cautiously dabbing at her shoulder, Shizuo doesn't notice her hand reaching up until it's resting on his arm outright, faintly warm through the fabric of his sleeve. He pauses then, glancing over to Namie with a startled expression.

But then her words register, and the surprise gives way to something more wry. Shizuo huffs a small laugh that comes out more like a sigh. "It's that obvious, huh? ...I don't want to hurt you, yeah. But, also...I don't do this sort of thing a lot."

His arm is as solid as the rest of him generally is, more so with his initial tension so at odds with his painstakingly gentle application of the towel. Shizuo glances away from her again, back down to the burn on her shoulder; he lifts the towel away to eye it properly, though, and the line of tension in his arm does start to relax at her touch anyway. Just a little.

Still, though... "Did you know, Shinra has an entire cabinet full of steel cups in his kitchen? Specially ordered them from overseas, I think. Just in case I stop by his place and he wants to give me a drink." Shizuo shifts his position a bit, focus moving down to the burn on her arm now. Refolding the towel to another clean segment, he starts dabbing that spot too, his other hand slipping down from her shoulder to curl very lightly over her upper arm instead, fingertips just barely brushing over skin. This takes a fair amount of focus, too. "I don't know why he keeps trying."

"You're tense. That gives things away," she comments, tilting her head to watch his hand again. He's infinitely more gentle with things than she would be even with herself. And while she knows it's coming from effort on his part, she doubts that relaxing is going to end with her arm in a vice grip. Short of saying something with the intention of angering him, she knows she's fine in his hands. "You'll have more practice under your belt after this."

The comment is somewhat teasing as her fingers curl to rest on his arm, her gaze following the move to begin on the other burn on her arm as she listens to him, slightly distracted by the brush of his fingers against her arm. The touch shouldn't earn a second thought, but it does and it's cause to make her forcibly return herself to what's being said.

"I'm sure he tries because he likes you." That much seems obvious about any of the people Shizuo mentions and she's sure he knows it. She gives it a moment before she continues, looking up at him again as she arches an eyebrow at him. "Does he irritate you every time you end up there? If you ruin cups because of what he's saying, he should know better, shouldn't he?"

The burn on her leg is left as it is as they talk, the towel she was handed still resting over it to keep it cool as she allows Shizuo to focus on her arm. It's something she can get to afterward, when there's more space between them again.

The corner of his mouth twitches a little despite himself, at the teasing, and it leaves a dent in the heaviness of his frown up until now even after the fact. Focus settled firmly on cleaning her burns, the awkwardness of the situation is a little easier for Shizuo put off to the side for the moment--it's difficult to stay embarrassed and also be preoccupied with an injury at the same time, after all. Even if the prolonged hand on his arm does strike him as a little odd...Namie certainly doesn't seem to think twice about physical contact when she thinks it's necessary, but she hasn't tended to let it last either. --But he's not about to question it, so he doesn't.

The talk of Shinra actually has him shaking his head a little, though, more to himself than anything. His expression is definitely wry now. "Sometimes you wonder if being liked by a guy like that's really a good thing..." Shizuo lifts the towel away to check the burn again. Seems about as clean as it's going to get... "He thinks I'm neat or something. Ah, 'fascinating', that's what he says. He also talks way too much. And he knows that pisses me off, but at this point I don't know if he can even help it. He never thinks before he says shit..."

And the steel cups are next to useless. Honestly, Shizuo himself really couldn't explain why he puts up with the guy so much, even surgeon services aside. When a bad acquaintance sticks that thoroughly it seems like you have to either find a way to tolerate them eventually, or kill them. Shizuo straightens, both hands slipping from her arm. "Anyway, these are pretty clean now. I think it's just--ointment stuff we need to put on them?" He tilts his head, looking over to Namie's towel. "How's your leg looking?"

It's half thanks to the distraction of having him deal with her arm and half because it's a sense of evenness, having her hand on him while his are on her. It remains there probably because she prefers control and, short of taking over and brushing Shizuo away, it's as close as she can get to it in the moment, like having her hand on his arm means she can stop him if she feels the need to.

She listens to him talk about Shinra, glancing over at her arm as he lifts the towel. Both burns are cleaner than they started and that's good enough for the time being. "He says you're fascinating?" She shakes her head as she turns her gaze back to Shizuo's face. "I doubt I'd spend much time around someone who called me that." Especially someone like Shinra, who might take saying something like that to the next level. Thinking about it, she's a little surprised Shizuo hasn't ended up on an operating table if he usually goes to Shinra for help.

When hands slide away from her, her own hand drops to her lap as she nods at his first question. "Ointment and bandages are next." At the mention of her leg, she takes the chance to lean down and lift the towel from the burn, which is also clean thanks to her earlier efforts before he started on her arm. She pulls the towel away completely and straightens up to toss it over into the sink. "Better. There's not much left now."

Aside from seeking out medicine after they're done, but that's something she can do on her own.

"I wouldn't recommend it," Shizuo agrees, shrugging in turn as Namie makes her remark about Shinra's commentary. "Normally I wouldn't either, but we've known each other since gradeschool and he doesn't know how to give up on things. At this point I'd probably have to kill him to get rid of him. Lucky for him, he can be handy sometimes." And maybe Shizuo doesn't actually want to kill him--the same way he doesn't want to kill most people, actually, but also in the sense of a very reluctant companionship. Maybe Shinra has grown on him a little...like a fungus or something.... He gestures with the towel dispassionately, then sets it back down in the counter. "I get that a lot anyway, the whole 'fascinating' thing. People can be nosy bastards."

So, in a sense, he's gotten used to it--with Shinra and those assorted others combined. But one small silver lining of his temper, at least, is that those kinds of people also have a decent sense of self-preservation, and so the nagging questions don't tend to last very long. Shinra is about the only exception to that, but Shinra also has the best sense of self-preservation of all of them, at least as far as Shizuo's seen. At the very least, they both know that any attempt at an operating table without Shizuo's explicit consent (which is never going to be given) will amount to a genuinely attempted murder at the very least, no matter how marginally lenient Shizuo might feel about Shinra usually.

Not like anything could hold him down for long, anyway...

"Right, ointment then. Ah, have you already taken that out or is it somewhere else in here..?" Shizuo leans down a bit to examine the other things on the counter that Namie had put together before settling.

Edited ('grown in him'.......ah) 2016-04-18 04:54 (UTC)

Coming from Shizuo, the mention of killing someone is almost funny. Given what she's seen of him, she's sure he could hurt someone, likely with or without the intention to. But, kill? That's something she highly doubts short of the murder of someone he's close to serving as motivation. And given that Shinra actually sounds like he falls into the category of someone Shizuo is close to, whether or not he wants to admit something like that, killing him obviously isn't going to happen no matter how fascinating he finds Shizuo.

Admittedly, her thoughts have wandered to the idea of drugs and how they might work on Shizuo. But those musings come from a place of self-preservation rather than fascination, thoughts for preparing herself for the inevitable time when he finds out who her boss is and she's potentially lashed out at for her connection to Izaya.

"I can't believe you've known him so long and you still spend time with him." It's said as Namie straightens up again, looking over at the counter for the last of the things they need. A reach over and lift of the remaining towels - towels she moved to get to the one she's using - reveals a tube of ointment, some gauze pads, and a roll of tape. With those in sight, it serves as an answer to his question and she relaxes once more.

"So you two went to Raira together then, too?" She gives him a long look. "How old are you?"

"Can't believe it either, to be honest..." It's a grumble, but there's honestly not a terrible lot of heart to it. Shizuo draws back from the counter to give Namie some room as she reaches over to the towels suddenly. But--oh, there's everything else. Good enough answer to his question, now isn't it?

Shizuo takes up the ointment once Namie settles again, gingerly unscrewing the cap on it, but glances up at the question. "Ah, yeah. We were in separate middle schools, but then we ended up back in the same school again like that..." Because luck has a strange way of sorting people, apparently. But Namie's second question earns a more bemused sort of pause. "I'm twenty-four."

What an unexpected thing to be asked. Is there something relevant to be found about his age that Namie wants to check in on, or something? Is he even a typical sort of twenty-four year old, now he thinks about it...? Well, though that's a pretty stupid sort of question. Shizuo puts it aside instead of trying to think on it.

Instead he sets the ointment lid on the counter and draws up to Namie's side again. Less hesitant, this time, with more things to preoccupy him apart from her current state of dress--and especially because this is going to be even more of a delicate process than the cleaning had been, probably. He dabs some ointment onto a finger and leans over her shoulder again, the fingertips of his free hand bracing very lightly over the unharmed skin next to the burn while he starts very carefully applying the ointment on the burn itself with the other. He wouldn't be surprised if this stings more than the towel, so he tries to be as light as he can about it...

Then Shizuo realizes she'd probably notice him starting to tense up again, so he tries to break the brief silence at least. "--How about you, then? Lived around Ikebukuro for awhile too?"

The question is more one of curiosity than anything else, but the answer makes her eyebrows arch a little. She doesn't usually give the connections between people in depth thought - it's not something she cares about very much - but it's odd to realize how much earlier they could've crossed paths.

She doesn't offer any immediate comment after her question, though, instead quietly settling into thought as he moves closer to her again. The feeling of his hand almost makes her reach for his arm again, but she keeps her own hands to herself this time, focusing on keeping her hair from slipping back over her shoulder as she tilts her head away from it, wanting to give him the space to work.

The ointment does sting and it earns a small frown in reaction, but nothing else. The more she moves, the longer the care for it takes and that's not something she wants to prolong.

Shizuo's words bring her gaze away from the wall across from her and back to him.

"Most of my life. My brother and I moved in with my uncle when we were young and we've been here since." Her thoughts circle back around to school and her frown lessens as she continues speaking, her tone a little lighter as she admits her musing aloud. "I'm twenty-five. It's strange to think that I could have been your senior if I'd chosen to attend Raira."

Getting the ointment applied takes less time than cleaning the burn, at the very least, and Shizuo is soon moving on to the spot further down her arm again. Namie's continued measures to keep her hair away from this side are appreciated, too, even if Shizuo finds himself having to put a little effort into not giving the gesture as much...notice, this time. No, he'd best not get distracted from something as cautious as this anyway--

But her comment about schools and ages has him glancing up despite himself anyway, more visibly surprised now than he has been before.

"Ah, yeah, guess that would make you the older one..." Honestly, he hadn't really paid any thought to how old Namie might be at all before this, but. Somehow he's not too surprised about that, the more he thinks on it. More surprising is how close their ages actually are, rather...but as he considers the idea of her having attended Raira at the same time instead... "So you'd be a year above me there, you're right. You could have even been my senpai and everything, huh?"

He laughs a little, and the amused smile that comes with it lingers for a moment even after the fact, as he looks back down and resumes pressing on the ointment. Oddly, should Namie be paying attention, the remark and the laugh end up also being accompanied by a much lighter flush on his features for some reason--though it's faint enough to be easily missed. Shizuo doesn't even notice it, actually, though it's just--such an odd thought, that. And yet oddly almost plausible, as he tries to even picture it...?

The task is faster, she's sure, but she wonders if he's working with more ease now. He's not quite as tense or on edge as before, so she hopes that's the case if only to prove that he doesn't have to worry so much when he's close to people.

Or it could just be that the conversation is enough to make him relax, if his reaction is anything to go by. The talking seems to put him at ease - more than the silence does, anyway - though she's not sure why her statement is so surprising. Maybe it's the mention of ages or the fact that things really are smaller than they seem. If she'd made one different decision, one to attend Raira rather than a private academy that she'd deemed better for university prospects, they might've come out of school knowing one another and this might not be happening at all.

Something about it is amusing, though, and Shizuo's own assessment and amusement over it is enough to earn a smile as she gives a small shake of her head over the fact that they're discussing this at all.

"Mm, I could have been." It's not hard to picture, honestly, as she looks at Shizuo. What's odd is considering him in the uniform when she's used to that bartender outfit of his. But the thought of it is distracting enough that she misses the flush despite how close the two of them are. And it's oddly helpful in keeping her focused on the more ridiculous 'what if...' rather than thinking about the burns. "I wonder how that would've gone, meeting in school like that."

Truthfully it really is a combination of both, even if Shizuo doesn't quite realize it himself. The edge of his earlier tenseness is certainly gone, though, and the talking helps...quite a lot. Which would strike a little odd, if he cared to think about it more. Shizuo is generally a pretty quiet sort of person in his daily life, really--when his temper isn't being set off--and he rarely ever talks this much to anyone, even good friends on average days. Or maybe it was really just a matter of finding a good topic and decent company to have a conversation with after all, in the end. He's hard put to find people that don't inadvertently tread on his temper in their own ways of chatting, but Namie is turning out to be one of the few first-time exceptions.

Second burn tended to, Shizuo finally straightens, thought doesn't move away immediately, in favor of noting Namie's own smile and her reply. Evidently she's trying to picture it too, and that he's not the only one to find it a little funny. "Hah, who knows, right? Probably would have been better than our actual first meeting was. --Maybe..."

It's not particularly hard to beat running into a shootout in rain at an ungodly hour of morning, after all, but...Shizuo pauses a bit, smile fading as he turns to the counter. Absently he rubs at his face a little--oh, it's a bit warm, that's weird...but the line of thought he's preoccupied with now puts that oddity to the side. "Or maybe it wouldn't have been very quiet anyway, actually. Ah, I wasn't a very peaceful sort of student either..." He takes up a pair of bandages and turns back over to Namie again, a little sombered. But he offers her the tube of ointment too. "--Want to get the one on your leg? I'll start covering these up here on your arm while you're at it..."

This is easily the most casual conversation Namie has had with anyone in some time and she knows how odd it is, just like so many other things are in regards to Shizuo. She doesn't usually engage other people unless it's necessary on some level or she likes them, and the latter category is only held by a single person. So Shizuo still falls into that limbo in between, somehow managing to keep himself in a position that leaves her wondering if that category is going to expand by one person at some point in the future or if she'll eventually lump Shizuo in with most everyone else.

Her head tilts upward as he straightens up after finishing with her arm and she doesn't quite register that the smile is lingering on her face. Though her own slips away as she watches him and his after he speaks, her eyes following his movement as she waits for him to continue.

As he does, she lets out a quiet laugh, nodding as she reaches out to accept the ointment from him. She leans down and begins to carefully apply ointment to her last burn, trying to stick to the use of her uninjured hand so she can leave access to her other arm to him.

"I wasn't any nicer as a student," she comments, tilting her head to glance up at him for a moment before returning her attention to her leg. "Maybe our first meeting would have been surprisingly similar. I doubt the impression you would have left then would've been any different than the one you've left since we met."

"Some impression about bleeding too much everywhere, you mean?" The idea does curl some faint humor back into his tone despite himself. It's not even all that implausible, really, when she puts it like that...if anything, his temper was usually even worse back then than it is now.

He takes up a gauze pad and the roll of tape now, considering the prospect of bandaging. Hm, maybe it'd be easier to start on the lower one on her arm first...

"But hey, what do you mean you weren't a nice student? I'd have figured you were one of those model students, even. Can't tell me you weren't at least a class rep or something..."

With the way Namie carries herself, she seems like she'd have been the type. But well, the keyword is always 'seems' with anybody, isn't it? Shizuo presses the gauze pad over the burn and starts wrapping the tape around both it and her arm; the action is very nearly absentminded, with some caution added in to make sure he doesn't inadvertently bind this too tight or something. But he's very familiar with bandages at the very least, putting them on and taking them off or having other people do it for him in his stead...he must have gone through hundreds of bandages when he was a kid. Funny how that works...

"That one-" She agrees with a nod, a lilt of teasing amusement in her tone with the first part of her reply as she focuses on her leg. "And the impression of being decent company." Despite his temper and the fighting, of course. She imagines that, temper or not, he hasn't changed all that much since then.

His judgement of her life as a student is spot on and she can't help glancing at him again, a little surprised by it. But her attention returns to her leg almost immediately even as she speaks.

"Oh, I was a perfect student. First in my class, student council president. I didn't need to be nice to get those things." No, she excelled at her studies and she was the type that classmates listened to, so the position seemed natural and looked good for her future. "What I mean is I wasn't any less blunt then. I didn't have friends in school."

She finishes with her leg and slowly straightens up, trying not to disturb his care of her arm in the process. And, once upright, her gaze settles on his work, watching as he bandages the burn and musing over how few people have ever done anything like this for her.

"And what about you? What kind of student were you? Aside from not being peaceful."

Ah, decent company...maybe. But then, she probably wouldn't be putting up with him for this long otherwise, would she? It's still strange all the same, though, hearing it outright from somebody like that. Shizuo can't figure out how to actually acknowledge that, and so it earns an almost awkward sort of nod instead. He preoccupies himself with effortlessly tearing the tape from its roll, instead, once the bandaging seems to be wrapped securely enough. Then it's on to another gauze pad, placed lightly over her shoulder.

Talk of school ends up being easier to respond to, at least, and Shizuo is pleased to find that his guess was right. No friends, though...? He almost sniffs a little. "What, just because you're blunt? Still don't know why so many people think that's a problem..."

Bluntness and honesty tend to go hand in hand, after all. It's something he finds himself quite appreciating in regards to Namie, at any rate. She finishes with her leg and straightens, and it isn't too disturbing in the least. Shizuo starts working the tape over her shoulder as well, though the line of questioning shifts back over to him and his hands hesitate somewhat, as he thinks on it.

"The kind of student I was? Hm...average." His shoulders roll in a slight shrug. "Definitely wasn't a class president or anything, didn't really have the--ah, 'temperament', you know. Meanwhile I had too much of a 'temperament' for sports too, so I never got into much of that either...never really could hack the extracurricular things, I guess. My grades were alright." In the end he'd graduated on time, at least, which was probably enough of an achievement in itself. Even his parents had been a little surprised, what with all of his other...problems. But just learning was never really the issue, honestly. ...Still, a slight smile begins to edge on Shizuo's features again as another thought occurs to him. "Kasuka was the one who actually ended up being the star student, hah. At least one of us got to manage it, I guess, even if it's a little backwards like that..."

It's her opinion, but she states it as if it's a fact. That Shizuo is decent company. But it can easily be taken as a compliment, which she supposes it is coming from her, so the lack of a verbal response isn't all that surprising. Not with the way Shizuo seems to consider himself.

"I didn't try to make friends." It's an addition that's probably necessary so it doesn't sound like she spent her three years in high school lonely and looking for people to spend her time with. That's way too far off from the way her experience went and she doesn't want to leave Shizuo with the wrong impression there. "The bluntness just helped with making people keep their distance."

And it continues to now, for the most part, coupled with the cold shoulder she typically gives people. Shizuo has managed to brush by all that somehow and they seem to have hit a point of... getting to know one another. Which is another odd thing for her considering most of her effort to know people usually just involves looking into them or hiring other people to do that for her.

Her head tilts once more, this time without any thought, as she feels the movement at her shoulder. She's not surprised to hear how he was in school, though she does wonder about the history between Shizuo and Izaya there. Not enough to question it on either end - she already knows Shizuo's reaction and she has no desire to mention Shizuo in front of Izaya and give him reason to interfere - but it's something to think about knowing that they went to school together.

The mention of another name coupled with that look, one she notices out of the corner of her eye before properly turning her attention to Shizuo, earns a curious look. "Your brother?"

Admittedly, Shizuo hasn't quite been about to make any assumptions one way or the other about friendship and high school-Namie's opinion on it. People avoiding her on the principle of bluntness just strikes him as a somewhat silly idea, and will probably continue to do so--it's odd what people end up being put off by. But when she does clarify like that... "Oh. Yeah, makes sense."

He couldn't even judge her too much about wanting to avoid friends, really. Shizuo had developed his own means of keeping people from getting too close since high school--though, admittedly, the reasons are probably pretty different between them. It hadn't been that he didn't want friends, but eventually hurting people he cared about had seemed worse than being a little lonely in the end. And some had insisted on hanging around anyway, like Shinra, so he'd never managed to end up being entirely alone regardless.

Soon enough her shoulder is patched up too; Shizuo tears that segment of tape and steps back to fetch another gauze pad, before offering both the pad and roll of tape to Namie wordlessly, on the assumption she'll want to be wrapping her own leg as well. It's for the best she doesn't try bringing up Izaya--and, indeed, Shizuo has been purposely avoiding that particular aspect of his high school years, in favoring of trying not to even think about it while bandaging somebody at the exact same time. That'd be hazardous work. It probably wouldn't be very hard for her to draw her own conclusions on that front anyway, considering their relationship at present. Most people would guess it had been just as violent back then as it is now, and they wouldn't be wrong.

In lieu of that, Kasuka is a much better topic. Shizuo nods, settling back against the counter, and his smile actually seems to grow just a little with the confirmation. "Yeah, that's right, my kid brother. You probably know him already, actually...he goes by Hanejima Yuuhei on tv and stuff." And goodness knows his face is all over half the billboards in Ikebukuro. Shizuo waves a hand absently. "Had top grades in all his classes when he went to school...wasn't surprising, though. He's smart as hell, didn't take after his older brother at all." Shizuo doesn't seem at all unhappy about this, however, and if anything there's an unmistakable air of barely concealed pride as he speaks.

Edited 2016-04-20 18:32 (UTC)

Her lack of friends comes more from preference and what she's used to rather than any kind of necessity, so, aside from the fact that it's something they both chose, their circumstances are unsurprisingly different. And it's also unsurprising to know that some people continue to stick around regardless of Shizuo's worries about hurting those near him. It's something she can understand. He's not bad company, after all.

When he finishes with her shoulder, she glances at it then at her arm, silently deciding she's satisfied with his work. It's something she intends to comment on before he leaves - not so much his bandaging abilities, but how well he managed this despite his worrying - but she keeps it to herself for the time being, instead accepting the tape and gauze from Shizuo so she can lean down and begin covering the last burn.

Izaya is a topic she's smart enough to avoid, both in regards to their time in school and now. And if she ever grows that curious about it, as doubtful as that is since she can make her own assumptions as to how things went there, she knows one person she could question. Though it's unlikely she'll ever engage Shinra in a conversation about Shizuo or Izaya, if only to avoid word getting back to either of them.

Namie looks up from her leg as Shizuo leans against the counter, watching his face as he talks about his brother. She hasn't wondered who's most important to him before this, but that look and the pride he shows when talking gives her a very clear idea. "Hanejima Yuuhei... I wouldn't have guessed." There's a note of surprise in her voice that mainly comes from the lack of resemblance between the two of them, the difference in names not too surprising given that his brother is an actor. She returns her attention to her leg, the focus enough to help her finish with the taping. And she sits up again once she tears it, her attention returning to Shizuo and their conversation with nothing to interrupt it now.

"How did he end up taking that path? Becoming an actor, I mean."

Really, all that time until now he'd been set on getting this over with quickly and then extracting himself at the nearest convenience, if only for Namie's currently-almost-shirtless state. But now, between the time it's taken to get the burns fixed up and the flow of the conversation, he's almost...gotten used to it, now? Or at least, he doesn't have a lot of room to be further embarrassed about it just yet. Namie finishes bandaging her leg, and still Shizuo doesn't shift from the counter just yet, busy mulling over this new question regarding his brother instead.

Right, he hadn't actually elaborated on that story--apart from that one aside mention, back when she was getting the bullets out of him..Shizuo shrugs again, expression a little more wry. "Him being an actor? Well, it's funny--he wasn't really planning to be one at all, actually. It sort of happened on accident..."

Absently, he moves to relieve Namie of the tape roll, if only so he can set that back on the counter too. "Some guy working for a modeling magazine showed up one day. I think he was trying to scout me? For some reason...ah, but he was a really frivolous sort. I didn't really like him. Then he pissed me off somehow, and I was going to beat him within an inch of his life." This is stated in a very flat sort of way. "But then Kasuka came in around that time, so I didn't get around to that. And he decided he'd try scouting Kasuka instead, and Kasuka didn't really mind it. So, he ended up in that magazine and he's been working up ever since..." Shizuo laughs, a short but genuine sound this time. "Funny how that works, isn't it? The way it should be, the older sibling's supposed to be more successful first, right? But Kasuka's a lot better at that sort of thing anyway. He can take care of himself pretty well now, you know?"

That he doesn't immediately move to exit the room is something Namie is thankful for, strangely enough. He's nowhere near as tense as he was initially and, if she's completely honest with herself, she's enjoying their conversation. And his company, for that matter, which is an almost disarming thing to acknowledge even without saying so much aloud.

Without anything to busy herself with, she finds her full attention fixed on Shizuo, allowing him to take the roll of tape without question as she listens to his story. From the way he talks about his brother, it sounds like their temperments are opposite one another - that Shizuo's is on an extremely short fuse depending on the situation and Kasuka is more relaxed. It seems fitting since she can't quite picture both of them as the same type. That's the kind of thing that would get around if the way people regard Shizuo is anything to go by.

"Ah, it really was all by accident." She sounds somewhat amused by the story, though she shakes her head a little. "We're only meant to be more successful first because we're older. Circumstances don't always allow for that." With that, she's pushing herself up from the toilet, her hair slipping back over her shoulder with a turn of her head. Then she's turning to stand in front of Shizuo, reaching out to give the bottom of his vest a light tug, her eyes roaming over his outfit as if she's expecting to find some sign that it's the same one he was wearing the first time he was in her apartment.

"You said he gave you this outfit. More than one, I assume." Her gaze shifts upward as she tilts her head slightly. "So you were a bartender at one point?"

She's over halfway right with an assumption like that, at least--Shizuo and Kasuka being of opposing temperaments. Though, people with the privilege of interacting with Kasuka outside his acting would be less apt to say he's more relaxed than Shizuo necessarily--but rather, that he seems to express a complete lack of emotion whatsoever, in contrast to Shizuo's tendency for far too much emotion in volatile bursts. (Shizuo's still just a little guilty about that too, honestly. He knows it's not Kasuka's fault, ending up sort of like that. When you're growing up with an older brother liable to burst at any overt expression you make...)

Namie has a rather interesting take on the role of older siblings, though--or so Shizuo thinks, as he considers her reply. "Yeah, guess it's true about circumstances...some people would still think we should be good enough to work past things like that, though. Or something..."

It's hard to quite shake off that sort of sense of responsibility, anyway, no matter how justified some failures might be. But then Shizuo is distracted after that, because Namie is standing up and moving right up to him, towel and all. Almost forgotten, but very difficult not to notice now, as she closes the distance--and, with the counter behind him, Shizuo finds there's no room to draw back to a somewhat more polite distance before she's already reaching and tugging at the hem of his waistcoat. --Oh...

In cut and design it's effectively the same suit, yes--though there isn't any evidence of the recent sort of damage to be had from bullets through fabric, unless Shizuo's sewing skills are actually that good. (They aren't.) Shizuo goes on to confirm the difference, as well, as Namie asks her question.

"...Twenty sets of them. Yeah." He returns her gaze with a faintly bemused look of his own, though it shifts to something else as he thinks on her question some more. His eyes shift away, to the side. "I had a bartending job before I ended up with Tom-san. I kind of--had a hard time holding jobs down, before that, but I'd managed to stick with being a bartender for a pretty long time compared to all the others. Kasuka wanted to help me hold onto it." With...an accumulation of suits, which might strike others as odd--but Shizuo had found the gesture poignant to say the least. "...I ended up getting fired anyway, though. No thanks to that fleabag--" And suddenly, one of the Shizuo's hands curls around the edge of the counter behind him, knuckles whitening a bit. "--But--I still could have done better. ...I let him down on that one."

Considering her own fall from grace and her current status of hiding from the law, it's hard to consider herself a success in any form of the word. She hopes Seiji will become more of a success than she's been, though it's not as if they have any other family to hold that kind of thing over them anymore. Though, as things are now, she considers it success enough to be able to provide him with money even if it comes from working for Izaya.

Closing space between them isn't something she thinks much of after having Shizuo leaning over her for the better part of the time they've spent in her bathroom so far, though she probably should since there's no longer a distraction to keep him from immediately getting awkward again. The conversation manages to be enough, but not in the same way things have been so far.

It's clear that she's struck a bit of a sore spot, more for something he's simply unhappy with than one for his anger. For the most part, anyway. Somehow, she's not surprised to hear that Izaya had something to do with the loss of his job. If anything, hearing that just manages to rekindle some of her own irritation toward him for the evening's situation.

Her grip is released so she can reach for his arm instead, her fingers curling around it and sliding down toward the wrist of the hand gripping the counter. She'd prefer to avoid his hand slipping and that grip taking part of her counter with it - the repairs would be a pain to deal with. "I'm sorry." For touching on a subject that isn't the best of memories, for Izaya being Izaya and in his life, for bringing their conversation down - she doesn't actually clarify what the apology is for, but she means it overall. "I doubt you let him down. It sounds like it was out of your control."

True, the conversation has still been enough to distract him from the awkwardness at hand somewhat--at least, to start with. The loss of his bartending stint does still sting a little, on top of the immediate aggravation that comes with thinking about Izaya in general, let alone Izaya in that particular situation.

And he'd been doing so well not thinking of that bastard this whole time, too...but the marginal anger that sparks up enough to tense his frame a little is offset almost immediately when Namie reaches over for his arm instead, fingers sliding down to his wrist--which is enough to get Shizuo to relax again somewhat, if only out of surprise. Startled, he realizes with a glance down that this gesture has inadvertently brought them even closer together, though trying to shrink away against the counter isn't really an option at this point. He'd probably have to outright sit on it to gain any actual distance now...

So that becomes pretty preoccupying too, and brings some very faint color back into his cheeks--but the conversation's still going, and the topic isn't so easy to forget, as Namie replies. Shizuo is glancing away again for multiple reasons now, as he replies, but the trace of unhappiness is audible all the same. "Didn't I? I told him I'd hold it down, though. Ah, and that's the thing, it was out of my control--and it shouldn't have been. If I'd had it together enough to just tell the cops what was really going on instead of throwing shit at them..." Well. Things would probably be very different now, he's sure. He sighs. "But, that's all water under the bridge now. Or whatever that saying is."

She's at least come to realize that being close to him seems to offset his anger some, not because he want to avoid hurting her but because it triggers an amount of awkwardness that he can't seem to ignore. It's something that probably only works because they're alone with one another, though it's not as if she's willing to test a theory like that in front of anyone else. Besides, she has a feeling that any woman getting this close would earn the same kind of reaction.

He continues to speak and she takes the chance to pull his hand away from the counter, turning to back toward the open bathroom door and give him a tug along, letting go of his wrist once she makes it clear that he should follow her. There's more space just about anywhere else in her apartment and she's sure he'd appreciate being able to put some between them if the look on his face is anything to go by.

"You're right, it is all water under the bridge. You seem okay with your current job and I get the feeling Tom-san appreciates having you around, so I don't think you should dwell on it." Though, she has a little more understanding of why Shizuo throws whatever he can get his hands on at Izaya now. And it's impossible to think he doesn't deserve to get hit with a light post for that and many other things he's done.

"Do you want something to drink?" The topic is changed quite bluntly, but the question is offered as she makes her way down the hall to head for the kitchen, no regard for the fact that she's still wearing a towel and her skirt. Anything she puts on is going to cover her shoulder, at the very least, and she'd like to leave it be for the moment.

It's true, any woman getting this close probably would--though Shizuo has certainly not had any opportunity to extensively test this particular theory either. Nor does he generally have any plans to, though Namie has managed to get awkwardly close to him more frequently than any other woman he's ever met so far. And not even on purpose--or at least, not with the intention to embarrass him, he's pretty sure. Evidently it hasn't been objectionable enough for him to bring it up to her yet, either way--though he's honestly not sure how he'd broach the topic even if he wanted to...

But it's still a little bit of a relief, when Namie does step back. ...Even if she takes his hand with her in the process. He steps after her easily when tugged, too startled to consider any resistance, and follows her into the hall after she releases it. ...She's probably right, in a sense, that he is pretty alright with the job he has now--or at the least, he's pretty happy with working alongside Tom. Things could have turned out a lot worse than they did, and he knows that too. It's still somewhat difficult to look Kasuka in the eye sometimes, though, half-convinced as he is that he's probably still somewhat disappointed in him.

The topic switches abruptly, though, and Shizuo blinks after her as they trail into the main room in the direction of the kitchen. She doesn't seem to mind continuing on with just the towel at all...but well, he's certainly not going to say anything. Instead he sort of averts his eyes, in favor of looking around the kitchen as they enter instead.

A drink? The answer slips out without him really having to think on it. "Ah...you got any milk?"

If embarrassing him became a goal of hers, he'd definitely know it. Because there are entirely verbal ways to manage something like that and it's likely the route she would take if it were all intentional. As things are now, she just doesn't mind being close to him and she knows the awkwardness seems to win out over the edge of anger - which she prefers to put a stop to before it has a chance to flare up while they're in her apartment.

The jump of topics is to keep them from getting any deeper into the one previously at hand, and maybe to keep them from getting much deeper into conversation at all. Because it's still disarming to know that talking to him comes easier the longer they're around one another. So much so that she knows she's already shared more about herself than she ever intentionally does with anyone.

It seems as if they're not entirely over the getting to know one another part yet, though, because his request for milk earns a glance - one that's likely missed in his looking around. "I do. I'll get you a glass."

And then she's getting out a couple of glasses and moving to the fridge, pouring water into one and milk into the other before she brings it over to offer it to Shizuo as she speaks up again.

"Thank you."

[ooc; since canon has her taking care of injured people, would prefer for her to be in the patient role this time!]

( literally the worst patient ever. also a shitty caretaker, but game for either role anyway. ota! )

[ Already injured? Who cares! Hopefully Nicolas has time to prepare himself for the loud slap at the back of his neck because Adrian totally thinks he deserves it for not listening. He's a little too livid to be bothered with signing so he just kind of mumbles to himself while gathering supplies. ]

...Blah blah... I'm Nico and I'm too cool to wait around for my cuts to heal... Blah... [ Because that's exactly what he sounds like.

Finally Adrian settles down beside the other before grabbing the blood-stained fabric of his shirt in a death grip, expression and tone relatively calm in comparison. Read his lips: ] I hate blood. Don't make me do this a third time. Okay?

( he's fortunate - mostly because someone might be missing a hand, under normal circumstances.

for now, the twilight is still riding out the tail end of his (relatively mild) celebrer crash, and adrian gets little more than an almost-insolent squint when the force of the tug jerks nicolas forward slightly. ) Whatever. ( he signs, drained. ) Besides, nobody's making you do anything.

[ Nobody? Nobody? He's somewhere in between aching for another hit and completely unphased, releasing the other's shirt. ]

...You sound like an ungrateful teenage brat. [ Coming from the younger of the two. ] Would you prefer to bleed out?

[ It's a serious question. He'll wait. ]

[ either works! but lbr, he's probably the injured party. ]

Edited 2016-03-31 18:37 (UTC)

[either's good!]

Edited 2016-03-31 18:40 (UTC)

[ hello.

how are we doing this. because i'm up for anything. ]

[ LMAO SO AM I which one of them should get hurt ]

[ TBH ZERO GETTING HURT WOULD BE SO CUTE BC so awkward for the both of them, honestly. but its up to you. hit me. ]

[ objectively, it's not a big deal. death is common in the battlefield, and injuries twice more so. a stab wound or two isn't much to be fussed over. or so that should be, but leo finds himself in zero's chambers, leaned against the wall opposite his retainer's bed. and he worries.

normally he wouldn't. normally as soon as the healers have mended the wound, there's nothing to fret over. but this is different. it's not the wound that bothers him but the events that led up to it - how this foolish man, who is useless in close combat, had actually jumped in between him and the attacker. and now leo's got a heavy weight in his chest that doesn't seem to go away, worsening every time he glances at the bandages covering zero's chest.

eventually he comes close, settling in a chair next to him, and sighs. ]

Zero, how do you feel?

Edited 2016-04-03 16:16 (UTC)

[Wanna do some bonding over injury? I'm chill with either of them getting hurt.]

[ sure!! leo's probably not... the nursing type so he could get hurt instead? ]

[Okay! What options do you want for him? Big brother will do a great job nursing Leo back to health. He'll even make tea! (Which might hurt more than the injuries.)]

[ he... probably got thrown off a wyvern or something. tried to ride one bc everyone can reclass to wyvern lord but him?? also pls no not the tea ]

[Sounds awesome should I start or you for this? Btw, okay no tea but how about a free dragon ride to make his little bro feel better instead? Because who doesn't want to ride a dragon?]

[ i'm on the phone so it'd be great if you could! also dragon rides are acceptable. except he's not a kid big bro pls ]

[Okay! He just wants his cute little brother to warm up to him again. So he will give all the free dragon rides so Leon can brag to his friends about how cool his brother is.

Oh! Before I start up what kind of injury does he have? Like bruise or sprain or broken limb?]

[ broken leg sounds appropriate for being rejected by a wyvern!

also leo has no friends ]

[Don't worry Leo, big brother will get you friends too. Kamui just ends up running around the camp like 'THIS IS LEO AND HE'S CUTE AND GREAT BE HIS FRIEND.' Kamui A+ brother.]

[Kamui felt horrible when he heard Leo had broken his leg trying ride a wyvern, those animals could be very temperamental. When he went to visit his little brother, he decided to take it upon himself to take care of Leo until his broken leg healed instead of giving the burden to anyone else.

Which was why he was now standing before Leo with a book on how to nurse someone back to health in one hand and a bag of medical supplies in the other.]

I don't know how badly broken you leg is so I brought one of everything just in case.

[ are you trying to nurse him back to health or worsen it?? don't they have capable doctors. doctors that have patched him up. doctors who are not kamui. kamui is nowhere near a doctor.

and what the hell is that thing sticking out of his bag. ]

... The doctors have already seen me. I'm fine.

[ he's just eyeing kamui warily from his spot in the bed, book almost forgotten on his lap. a broken leg means he can't bolt. why couldn't he have broken an arm instead? ]

[Excuse you Leo, he is not a doctor. He's a nurse, there's a difference. He's going to do this one thing right and get closer to his brother again like when they were children. And that thing that was sticking out of his bag is a mend just in case his leg somehow started to hurt too much. Kamui had never had a broken limb before so he didn't know what to expect.]

I know that, but they're too busy with the war to do bedside care so I thought... that maybe, I could do that for them until your leg fully heals.

[Kamui knew from previous conversations that Leo felt a little neglected by Camilla and Marx since the paid so much attention to him and Elise. So Kamui wanted to fix that by being a real big brother and real big brothers protect and care for their little siblings.]

Don't worry Leo, I'll take really good care of you!

[ nurse is not?? the better alternative?? how about you be a good big brother and let him read in peace?? please. it'll only take a few weeks for his leg to heal. ]

Don't you have better things to do? Play with Elise? Play with Camilla? Spar with Xander?

[ not... that he doesn't appreciate the gesture, because he does. just. maybe he's just not quite ready to be cared for like that. it's just a little sudden. and worrying. ]

[Kamui doesn't know that. As far as Kamui is concerned a few weeks is a long time to be helpless! So Kamui will help him heal even faster by his great nursing skills. At least try to pretend to be happy to see your big brother caring for you Leo.

Kamui deflated a little when he saw how unhappy his brother was with his caring gesture. Had they really grown that distant?]

What's more important than caring for an injured loved one? All that can wait until you're better and we can all spar or play together. [Like a big happy family that Kamui had only been able to read about. He knew that everyone was very busy and the fort was very far from the capital, but he couldn't help but daydream from time to time about what it must be like to all live together at the capital.]

[The thing about sworn enemies and pride is that sometimes, despite knowing that Leo may or may not be as bad as he thinks, it's hard to just accept that they're now on the same side. Even harder than that is to accept help, especially for something as embarrassing as an injury due to carelessness. He hadn't expected the ambush-- none of them did-- but he feels at fault for it. If he had noticed it sooner rather than later, they could've prevented it. No, instead, he noticed it too late, and it was only with everyone else's help that they managed to come back in one piece with bad news.

Unfortunately, that happened, and while he could always ask to be healed, they were rather preoccupied with the ones who took the most damage. He wasn't too concerned, and even told Sakura he can do it on his own.

Except, well... no. That wasn't happening. He's not sure just what exactly the Nohr siblings were up to, but when Leo had been shoved his way to help, he had only a wary glance to give him. It was an improvement, he supposed, from the days when he would've sneered or protested or, if he was in a bad enough mood, kick him out with good measure.

Now they were kind of stuck. Huh.]

... Let's just get this over with.

[ change definitely doesn't happen overnight, least of all something that's been ingrained into one's consciousness. it's neither of their faults that they don't get along, but they're the least cooperative of the bunch for sure, as much as leo hates to admit it.

and it may very well be a ploy from their respective siblings that the role of takumi's caretaker had fallen upon him. he doesn't even much much about healing arts - or any at all. elise had always been the nurse in the group.

so leo finds himself in takujmi's tent, a tray of standard medical implements next to him, and a less than enthused expression on his face. ]

... Right, then.

I trust that you know not to move while I work.

[ good thing he's not allowed needles. ]

... Depends. Do you actually even know how to use these?

[It's an honest question, even as he pulls back his shirt, just enough to reveal the gash on his side. If Hinata or Oboro were around, he'd have asked them for this instead. Admittedly, he rarely has to be tended to when it came to wounds compared to them, given that he chooses to battle from a distance. Since they weren't an option today, and he had been caught in an ambush-- he supposed he should bite his tongue and at least accept the help.

Besides, given the look that Ryoma gave earlier, he doesn't need him scolding him about carelessness AND refusal to cooperate. His pride was bruised enough. At the very least, Leo was somewhat better company that others he can think of.

There's not really a lot of good company he can think of when most of them were from rival territory.]

Of course I do. [ no he doesn't, but it can't be that hard to learn? elise does it.

at least, he could decipher the steps he's supposed to take from the supplies given to him. his attention is turned to takumi's wound then, because the sooner they finish, the sooner they will be released from each other's company.

first - he reaches for the wash basin and grips the towel provided, squeezing it dry before leaning over to dab it against the gash on takumi's side as gently as he can. it's not like the little hoshido prince can't take a little pain anyway, right. ]

Ugh.

[He can definitely take a little pain, but he instinctively tenses up when he feels the towel on his wound. Nothing to write home about though, and he forces himself to relax and let Leo do what he can to clean it.

He's still dubious. It's easy enough to guess how to clean a wound, after all.]

So how did they manage to put you up to this?

[It is an Angel, so more likely the healer - maybe - if you're good.]

Edited 2016-03-31 23:07 (UTC)

( either side! )

[ Are you okay with a Quiet? 👀 ]

( LMAO i imagine miller might not be but i sure am ♥ )

[ Sweeeet. Okay, do you have a preference for who was injured? I can absolutely roll either way and start us off.

I rolled 4 - burns with 3 attack aaaand 5 - other. So, I was thinking something in an evac chopper? Pretty flexible! ]

( oh nice that sounds pretty legit lmf. a run-in with the man on fire, perhaps?

also either role is fine tbh but kaz having to depend on quiet would be a fantastic slap in his face so i'm up for him getting injured if you don't have anything else in mind c: )

[ Hope this works! ]

------

[ The Man on Fire offers more of a challenge than she anticipated. Briefed on his strength, aware of how dangerous his range could be, Quiet follows orders per usual. Let free from the "captivity" of her cage in Motherbase, acting as Snake's coverfire was one of her first few steps towards redemption and acceptance of her role here.

Far from the monster Miller paints her as, she sacrifices precious time to let Boss escape with Pequod. He was injured - a nasty break against his bicep that hinders his aim. Retreating was a smart, but poor option, wasn't it? Of course, he didn't like it. There was no way he'd ever leave a soldier behind, right? Quiet had remained perched in the cliffside, laying down the silenced sniper shots akin to her name. It allows for him to get a reasonable distance, a mere speck in the sky to her trained eyes. 5 minutes had passed by until a familiar whir of helicopter blades and she's almost sure he had returned to fight but -

No, the engine runs differently than what she's use to hearing. Less tuned, less used.

Her feet skid against the dirt and mud, dodging a few balls of fire that were hurled her way. It was a clean break - trampling through the moss and grass, leaping to the warehouse roof... she'd easily be able to catch onto the bottom of the helicopter. It was the sudden blast from the Man on Fire towards the open door that makes her stop in her tracks. Her form becomes visible, eyes flushed with the butterfly markings around her eyes. Distressed, she feels worry and concern but the chopper holds steady.

With those brilliant eyes, she sighed a bit of relief when she saw it was not Boss... but someone else.

Cue her finally getting herself together and making her way stealthily towards the chopper. Miller would hear a harsh thud and shift of weight in the chopper, as the pilot veers away from the action, much to the Man on Fire's anger. Quiet's form becomes visible, fading from nothing to the bare form.

Are you - she'll never ask, instead, she's adjusting her rifle onto her back and kneeling onto the ground. The pilot mouths off to her, demanding she checks on their impromptu leader - did he even want to be in the same vehicle as the Monster of Motherbase? ]

(Just another day in his life, amiright?)

[OOC: Would you like a Benny?]

[OOC: I would love a Benny]

[OOC: Should Dean be the injured party?]

[OOC: I'm down for that!]

It had been about three months since Benny had last heard from Dean. His friend had called him and told him that he wasn't going to check up on him anymore. Benny was smart enough to know that basically what that meant was Sam forced him to choose. The vampire understood, really he did, but it didn't make it any easier to know he would always fall short on the list of those important to Dean. So now he just spent as much time on his boat as he could taking down the occasional fang nest and trying to keep his nose clean. He did his best to stay out of trouble and try to forget about his absent friend.

Currently he was docked at the pier of a small town in Louisiana. He'd taken a job at a diner and was working as a short order cook. He planned on staying for a month or so but he wasn't entirely sure.

Edited 2016-04-03 13:48 (UTC)

Dean hated cutting off contact with Benny, but he did it for Benny really and not Sammy. He didn't want to give Sam reason to do anything. His brother really just didn't understand, not that Dean did much either. It just was.

Dean had been on a solo job in Louisiana, and as happens from time to time, he got hurt in the process of the job. He knew where Benny was through the hunter's grapevine as it were. So he knew the vamp was close and so that is where he went. WHen Benny would get home as it were he may very well smell blood.

Benny stiffened for a moment as he stepped onto the deck of his boat. The scent of blood permeated the air in and around the dock. He took a moment to think, as if tasting the air, and then blanched slightly. He knew that smell keenly. Dean Winchester was here. And he was hurt pretty bad. Benny hastened inside and looked around, eyes finally settling on a hunched over human in the corner.

"Dean, you still alive brother?"

[Feeling up for some apocalypse survivor-folks banding together? If so I'm good with Luke being the helper or the help-ee. He's more receptive to puns than Joel, for sure. :P]

( ooc ; absolutely! either way is fine /o )

[If it isn't the threat of bandits it's packs of snarling lurkers cutting their supply run short - but fortunately, slipping between trees and through bushes, they make it back alive to the rangers' cabin they've been hunkering down in the past few days. It's not until after he's checked the perimeter and the inside for threats that they can (hopefully) sigh in relief and take stock of the goods in their bags.]

...You okay? [He asks breathlessly after pushing a dresser in the way of the door. He's a little cut up from branches and brambles but it's on the level of the usual wear-and-tear they suffer day to day.]

Not exactly.

[ Comes the reply from the girl off to his side. Ellie heaves an irritated sigh, hunkering down in a corner and tugging off her trainer to look at her ankle. It doesn't look bad yet, but when she moves it the wrong way, she winces. ]

Fuck. [ A twisted ankle is no good in this world, not when you have to be able to run for an indeterminate amount of time at any given moment. Wearily, she glances up at the other survivor and puffs out her cheeks, exhaling roughly. ]

It was stupid. I know. [ She does, and she's pissed at herself for letting it happen. Ellie doesn't have a lot of medical supplies on her person, but she has a small roll of cloth bandages which she slips out from her backpack. After, she slips off her dirty sock and examines the injury further, expression dark, mumbling under her breath. ]

[He unshoulders his bag, his brow knitting in sympathy while he looks on. No one wants to be a burden and these days there's little room for error, the smallest of incidents and choices often having disastrous consequences. But she's still alive - and that's something.]

Well, [A sigh slips out of him.] ...we're in this now. An' we made it back, which is the important thing. So we'll deal. [He steps closer, giving her a moment longer to assess her injury in peace. It doesn't seem so severe, at least, that it demands immediate intervention, but he'd like to be sure.]

Mind if I take a look?

[ Ellie considers it, frowning almost stubbornly, but then relents with another sigh. ]

Yeah. [ It could definitely be worse, but any injury is a bad one in this environment. She stretches it out in front of herself where he can see it, trying not to let loose another string of curses at her own mistake. ]

I'll be fine. [ She insists in a mutter. ] I'm not gonna slow us down.

[He crouches by her, frowning thoughtfully as he has a closer look without touching anything yet. It's bruised-looking and definitely well on its way to swelling up. Wrapping her foot and resting up while they is looking like her best option.]

Don' think it's broken... I mean, I guess you'd know, seein' as you walked all this way.

[He scratches his stubbled jaw, eyebrows going up as he looks to her and invites her to correct him if he's off.] Either way we're gonna wanna stabilize it.

I hobbled. Let's be honest.

[ It isn't broken, though, which is good... but, she'd known that, in a way. Ellie drops her chin, eyes still on the foot, resisting the urge to just start yelling and throwing a fit to try and alleviate some of the restless, annoyed energy. ]

I'll deal. [ She says, finally, looking up again. ] I mean, I won't be as fast, but we'll rest... a night, or something, and then head out. I can handle this.

I don' doubt it. Jus' wanna make sure it don' get worse. [They could probably afford to hang back here a few days, luck permitting, as they've had a productive supply run. Not having to worry about food for a little while is a load off.]

S'probably gonna swell up a bit overnight, but, well. [It's to be expected.] Jus' take it easy an' we'll see how you feel in the mornin'. [He moves towards his bag after a moment and sifts around, cans clinking.] So. Corn or green beans?

When've we ever been able to "take it easy?" [ She asks wearily, but doesn't argue... too much. He's right, and they both know the reality of the world they live in, which means she has to at least rest up a little, however much she doesn't wan tto.

After the question, she chuckles mirthlessly, lip quirking up. ]

Corn. [ It's never much of a choice, but that's not something they can really complain about. ] Actually, I'll take the filet, if you've got it. Mashed potatoes and gravy, too.

Think we had a couple a' minutes last week? [He points out with a wry half-smile, digging out a couple of cans. He's a corn kind of guy, himself, and one day soon they'd have to choke down some of their less enjoyable goods. But that they even have a couple things to choose between is something.

Snorting softly, he jerks a hunting knife out of the sheathe at his belt and punches it into the lid.]

Hate to break it to you, ma'am, but we're all outta filet. An' potatoes. Aaaand gravy. But what we have here's the chef's special... [--levering open the lid] ... our finest whole kernel corn in, uh, sugar water, fresh from the can.

[He walks over to hand it to her.]

Bon appetit.

Edited 2016-04-29 01:13 (UTC)

Oh, sure. [ Ellie snorts, but she grins weakly, watching him as she works. If he were closer, she'd nab a can to open it herself, but by the time she drags her ankle over there, he'll be done. ] A few minutes every couple months. It's basically vacation.

[ Nah, they don't get a lot of time. Not when relaxing (or, more specifically, being off their guard) can get them killed. Still, it's better to be on edge and with somebody else than alone... especially when it means they can afford a minor injury and to sleep when that might also mean certain death otherwise. ]

If it's the chef's special, I think I can deal with it. [ He's trying, and so is she, and that has to count for something. Ellie smiles grimly as she accepts the can, holding it up briefly in the air as a salute to him. ]

Cheers. [ With a can of corn? Why not? She takes what could tentatively be called a 'swig,' then briefly pulls a face before taking another. ]

Compliments to the chef. [ She says between bites, snorting. ]

[Test driving her! She can be the one hurt, or not hurt. Would love to test her against cast mates! But not necessary. Cross Medium alright too.]

[ooc: prefs?]

( ooc: good with anything, go wild! )

He is the worst Robin ever. Bruce and Dick trust him to go out in Gotham on his own, and what does he do? Sprain his ankle like an idiot. It wasn't even in the line of duty! He was startled by a freaking cat that suddenly jumped in the way of his path and completely messed up his landing. It bolted the second he hit the ground; he hopes it appreciates what he went through to avoid falling directly into it, the little jerk.

His fleeting hopes of at least making it to the Batcave on his own are dashed when he tries to put weight on it, because yeah, no. Ugh. He keys into the comms and hopes Dick isn't going to make fun of him for this forever. "Nightwing?"

(Worst. Robin. Ever.)

Edited (accidentally a word) 2016-03-31 21:51 (UTC)

The penthouse is ... well, it's nice, no doubt about that. Flashier than what he has grown used to in recent years but Alfred insisted that someone make use of it and who was Dick to turn down a shower that stays hot for more than five minutes? When his leads took him to Gotham from Bludhaven it had seemed promising for his current case, but intel has been thin on the ground these past couple of nights and he's fairly sure his last old safehouse in the city has been compromised, so.

Nice to have a kingsize bed, too. Alfred really is a genius.

He uses the open lounge as his main port for the laptop and various tech currently glowing over the coffee-table depicting a host of criminal activities, a packet of half-eaten cereal having fallen onto his comms which proves lucky for Tim, as it turns out, because Dick is close enough to his snacks to hear the line open up and pop the ear-bud in. Idly, he scrolls through touch-screen holofiles.

"I read you, Robin. What's up?"

Tim lets out a little breath of relief, because Dick may make fun of him for this but he really doesn't want to have to call Bruce to help him back and feel like he's let Batman down. "I have a. Situation? Not a really bad one," he tacks on hurriedly, because he doesn't want anyone to worry.

"Just - hang on a second," he says, because the stupid cat is coming back now and he just has to hiss, "What are you doing? You're like the cat equivalent of a hit-and-run driver, you don't get to come back and do the decent thing now!"

The cat hears him and ignores him because, well, cat, at which point Tim realizes that his comm is still on. Witness the mighty Robin, terror of Gotham's underworld. " - Where are you right now?" Because if he's close enough, then Tim can be put out of his misery faster.

Up goes a concerned brow, then a confused one, until Dick is sitting there with a handful of cereal half-raised to his mouth as he squints at a shelf across the room in the part of a rapt listener.

As solemnly as he can possibly sound, which isn't very, he replies, "Aren't you a little young for Catwoman?"

He's not even sorry.

"I'm at the penthouse doing a flyby this week, needed somewhere to crash in a hurry." Meant to be a day or two but you know how criminals are, jerks can't keep to a time-frame unless a big name like Penguin is threatening their backsides with his umbrella. "You okay?"

"Yyyes," he says, drawing it out in that way that no one who means what they are saying ever does. "...Mostly. Um, I could use some help?" The cat chooses to contribute to the situation by rubbing itself against his hurt ankle, and he sucks in a breath quickly, trying not to make any noise, before grabbing the cat before it can do any more damage. "...And like a cat tranquilizer?"

The totally-not-there-super-subtle-only-not hiss of pain sobers him up, heading into his bedroom to change into the suit previously left in a heap on the floor.

"Tell me where you are, Baby Bird. I could do with getting some air tonight, anyway." His curiosity wins out, ironically enough. "You done for the night after this pick-up or do you need me to finish your patrol off?"

Where's his mask? Ah, stuck to the lampshade. Handy.

"Pretty much done. Slow tonight." He rattles off an address while the cat in his arms bumps its head against him like it's looking for petting. Tim narrows his eyes at it behind the lenses. You've got a lot of nerve, pal.

Ugh, whatever. He lowers himself to the ground carefully because he is not going to stand around on one leg while he waits. "How soon can you get here?"

"Ten minutes, I'll take a shortcut. Hey, don't sound so glum! We can order in Chinese, my treat. Be there soon."

The balcony of the penthouse gives him a good lift, shortly to be not-seen soaring through the city's parapets and gargoyles with as much of a care as if visiting old friends. He knows Gotham's curves and angles, she's cold and unforgiving but he loves her all the same, even when she decides to screw up his investigations and slap him on standby for a week. Sure enough, the icy winds carried over from the docklands go a long way to waking Dick up.

When he reaches Tim, the arc-and-flip of an acrobat's lazy ease takes him to ground-level, eyeing the sight before him with a squint through the domino.

"You look like the trash you're sitting in, buddy. Need a hand?"

Like the one automatically reaching for him.

Tim may or may not have been carrying on a grumpy conversation with the cat while Nightwing was on the way because hey, what else is he supposed to do? By the time Dick arrives, the cat's curled up by his leg and enjoying some begrudging scritches, but it jumps up and vanishes into the night when Dick touches down.

Tim makes a face at Dick, because abandoned by his new cat friend and insulted by his older brother? Betrayal from all sides! "Thanks." He accepts the hand up, standing awkwardly so he doesn't put any weight on the bad ankle.

"Whoops, there goes your friend. You know, you shouldn't go literally head over heels for the first girl who crosses your path, case in point. Hup!"

Supporting him with a strong arm hoisted under Tim's shoulders, he peers down at the testy ankle with a thoughtful hum.

"Can't be too bad if you're still on one leg but we'll ask Alfred to check it over in the morning." It's the first good look he's had of Tim all night, trying to cheer him up with a friendly smile. "Want to tell me how it happened or shall we leave it at 'a cat happened'?"

Tim snorts a little. "I'm guessing you'd know from experience." Except he'd be doing a somersault or something because Dick. Tim, meanwhile, will be hobbling ungracefully because Tim. "And... yeah, mostly a cat happened," he says, a little grumpily. He bets this kinda stuff doesn't happen to Batman.

(Worst Robin ever.)

He guesses he should prepare to see if he can put any weight on the ankle. Between the couple Ibuprofen and various pain management techniques Tim's been taught, he's doing okay for now, but that doesn't mean he's looking forward to it.

"I'm old and weathered in many ways, you're not wrong."

Cheerful as Dick sounds, he makes up his mind about what to do with that ankle inside a few choice seconds debating the matter: just get it out of the equation altogether! Fortunately for Tim, without taking the sentiment literally.

He steadies him around a narrow waist.

"You might jostle your leg if you're on my back, I can't stop you falling off that way. Put your arms around my neck and go full limpet, I'm going to carry you. It'll look dumb but it's safest."

He sighs. "Sure, why not. I lost my dignity somewhere anyway." It was the cat, probably. He thinks he remembers having some earlier tonight.

Once he has Tim hoisted in place, they set off for the rooftops via grapple-gun. The weight of a passenger has to be carefully accounted for, so the ride back to the penthouse may take a little longer as Dick ensures nothing else gets sprained tonight.

He lets Tim hide in his shoulder from the rush of the wind, if he wants to.

"I lost my dignity heaps of times. I ever tell you about how I fractured my wrist trying to knock out one of Penguin's goons? Now that was embarrassing, right in front of B, too."

If nothing else, that knocks him out of his oh man I am terrible at being Robin, who even thought this was a good idea train of thought.

" - Wait, really?"

"Absolutely, I remember it clear as day because that was the first real injury I incurred, outside of bruises and scrapes, as Robin. Got home and felt like such a loser that I snapped at Alfred while he was patching me up. The next day I apologized and he said it was fine, but ..."

But that was no way to talk to Alfred, not ever.

"And this other time, I got snatched up by one of Riddler's stupid traps and banged my head on the ground before it whisked me up, I was completely disorientated. B had to cut me down last, he took care of everything. My cape was in my face the whole time."

It can't have been that bad, or so says Dick's hearty laughter. In his arms and between swings that take them higher, he gives Tim a squeeze.

"Everybody messes up sometimes, it's how we learn to be better, and you're already doing great. This is just a roadbump."

He can't even imagine snapping at Alfred. Well, he can, but not doing it and being able to live with himself afterward.

(He kind of wants to ask if stuff like this ever happened to Jason, but that's not a wound he wants to pick at right now.)

"...Or a catbump, anyway," he offers up for lack of anything much better to say.

"Heh! Yeah, or a catbump." It's not too far to go now, he can swing them to a better vantage point for when they arrive at the balcony. Heights always put Dick in a better mood, he hopes it's the same for Tim. "Look, I'll call Alfred and let him know I'll take you home in the morning. You can have something to eat with your big brother, who's going to spoil you, then get cleaned up to go back tomorrow. Sound good?"

Bruce always tends to panic more, in Dick's experience, immediately after injuries happen. If Tim returns in civvies, hale and hearty, the fuss will be far less.

"You don't have to," he says automatically, because don't be a bother is practically written into his DNA at this point. "I didn't mean to mess up your night."

"Nothing to mess up. All my leads went cold, you can actually take a look at everything if you want. A fresh pair of eyes might help."

When they land on the balcony he ensures to drop directly down, unlike his usual way of swinging over the side. The grapple retracts, is stowed on his belt, and Dick lifts Tim easily into his arms to carry him inside to the couch.

"Alright, so you take off your boots and I'll grab some ice."

On the coffee table nearby is Dick's laptop which he opens up as an invitation for Tim to browse, if he needs a distraction to stop feeling so much like an outside element.

It's definitely something to do. Getting his boots off is a little harder than he'd like because the ankle's already swelling, but he manages it and pokes it a little. He's pretty sure it's not broken, but it's hard to know for sure without an x-ray.

Then he glances at the laptop to see what Dick was working on while he waits.

Gang-related intakes of firearms in the hundreds, way more of an influx than either Bludhaven or Gotham needs but not so much that he wants to call in Bruce yet. It started out in Bludhaven and it's Dick's case, rooting through the hierarchy switches of several inter-related cabals of power, and it might be proving a wild goose-chase at current but he can resolve it. He knows he can. It's all a matter of discovering which people are financing the faux-companies involved then shutting them down.

Dick returns with a first-aid kit and a packet of ziplocked ice wrapped in a towel. Peeling off his mask, he sits on the edge of the coffee table and leans forward to get a better look at Tim's ankle, gently coaxing him to move it a little, prodding carefully at the muscles where the weight won't distribute to the bone too much.

"Yikes, I'm sensing a week off the streets is headed your way. On a scale of one to you wanting to hit me, how bad does it hurt?"

He sucks in a breath again and maybe kind of goes a tiny bit white but no, okay, he's got this. He just needs a second.

"I don't... want to hit you?" Well, no, he kinda does. If Dick doesn't stop trying to move it in the next few seconds.

Squinting at him, Dick pulls a face and sits back with his wrists draped on his knees.

"Ye-aaah, I think we should call Alfred right now. That's not a suggestion, by the way."

Witness Dick logging into the holo-computer on his sleeve's tech.

"It's not that bad?"

Yeah, okay, even he doesn't sound very convinced by that. The situation is kinda rapidly devolving from this is bad but manageable to nope nope nope, and it's occurring to him that sometimes things don't hurt as much as first less because they're not that bad and more because your body just stops accepting that input for a while.

Ugh. Broken bones usually take what, 4-6 weeks to heal? His parents aren't due back from their current trip for at least a month, he can totally heal enough in that time to pretend nothing happened, probably.

The look Dick gives him says that Tim has a higher chance of backflipping all around the apartment than stopping the call going through.

"Penny-One, it's Nightwing. I have Robin and ... uh, we need a favor."

'How may I be of assistance, sir?'

Dick glances up at Tim, the polite but undeniable suspicion in Alfred's voice evident. "We ran into each other while I was out tonight, one of the meatheads we were taking down messed up Robin's ankle. My fault, I wasn't expecting company. We think it might be broken."

'I see.' Yeah, there's no way Alfred's swallowing that. At least he doesn't call Dick out on his terrible lying. 'I suggest that you both change your attire and drive directly to the hospital. I will notify the staff ahead of time and the trip there will prove shorter than to the cave if the injury is more grievous than preciously believed.'

"Okay. Could you ... not bother the big guy with this just yet? Just so he doesn't worry."

'Perish the thought, sir.'

"Thanks, I'll keep you informed." Closing the call, Dick gives Tim a helpless shrug. "Looks like we're going out again tonight, Baby Bird."

Well, there goes his hopes and dreams of squeaking through this under the radar without Tim Drake officially getting hurt. Even if Bruce is kinda his guardian while they're out of the country, someone's going to have to tell his parents.

(He can probably handle that. It's just a matter of figuring out a way to say no, I'm fine, there's nothing you could do here anyway that bridges the gap between their desire to not cut the trip short and their need to not feel like bad parents.)

But okay, right, they're not at that point yet. He kinda zoned out for a second there, but he's back now. "Great." Does he even have civilian clothes here? Maybe. Alfred's pretty thorough about stuff like that.

Edited 2016-04-01 21:30 (UTC)

Tsking, Dick leans over and buffs a kiss against one very grumpy temple, patting him on the shoulder.

"Cheer up, we'll still get gloriously unhealthy take-out later. What do you want to do now, Tim, do you need some help getting out of the uniform? Want me to leave you to it and find something for you to change into?"

Thanks to Alfred's foresight, the bedrooms are stocked with emergency clothing in three sizes (four, if you count the contents of a lost boy's box in Dick's wardrobe).

The kiss only makes Tim scowl harder and bat him away because Dick, c'mon, he's not a little kid! "I can do it myself." And even if he can't do it himself, he's going to do it himself anyway rather than feel that stupid.

"Okay."

A wave of nostalgia carries him en route to find Tim some clothes, his smile waning along the way.

'I'm fine!' A furious Robin tries to rub the pain out of his wrist, twisting away from Dick in the cave. 'It's just sore, it'll be fine in the morning. You're such an old woman, Grayson.'

'So let Alfred take a look at it, if it's nothing you can go straight to bed.'

'Get out of my way! You don't even live here anymore, you're not wanted. Not by me and not by Bruce. You're not Robin, I am, and I can take care of myself!'

A green tshirt and jeans, a grey hoodie, and some regular sneakers. That's what Dick returns with to drop on the arm-rest behind Tim, already dressed in something similar.

"I've gotta find my wallet, then we can go."

Just like a vigilante, he supposes, to know where his grappling gun is but not his ID or credit card.

"Okay." Through hard work and determination, Tim's managed to get out of the Robin suit on his own. Getting into civilian clothes is comparatively way easier, but it's still a pain (literally). He doesn't even bother trying to put a shoe on the hurt foot. It wouldn't exactly help.

He grabs the ice pack, too, cause he might as well start icing it on the way. "Ready."

"Good job."

Wallet, keys, and phone all found, he would offer a piggyback but Tim's prickliness makes Dick think twice, instead sliding an arm under his shoulders and steadying him on the way out.

The ride down thirty floors in the elevator is quiet.

Tim's kind of preoccupied on the ride down, anyway. Anytime his parents try to get involved in his life, there's a risk that they're going to ruin the delicate balance he has going that lets him be Robin. It's stupid that this is all over a cat that was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

(There's always the opposite option, too, that they won't try to get involved at all, just say feel better and see you in a month, which he guesses would be... better. Easier, definitely.)

They may have to reconsider their current configuration at the bottom, though. There's really only so far he can go on one foot, and jarring his ankle trying isn't doing it or him any favors. Getting to the elevator is one thing, but staring at the path in front of them is... "This isn't going to work."

If he said he wasn't pleased to crouch down and look over a shoulder, ready for Tim to climb on his back, Dick would be an even worse liar than he currently is ~~outside of official missions~~. His smile is genuine.

"C'mon, up and on slowly. I'll try not to jostle your bad leg."

Tim might snort and roll his eyes a little at the obvious enthusiasm, but he climbs on anyway. (He may or may not mutter "weirdo" mostly affectionately in the process. Who can fathom the workings of the Dick mind?)

"Okay, ready." He almost, almost adds something dumb and silly like onwards, noble steed but he's not quite that far gone yet.

Trying not to jostle Tim's injured leg, Dick holds him securely under his knees and acts as a willing ferry as they cross the atrium to the front desk to request a car. No ordering cabs for Bruce Wayne's ward and co, nope! After so many years it's finally less weird to hear himself called that as the receptionist makes the appropriate arrangements, the initial disconnect he had felt in his early teens having given way. And who is this? the lash-batting woman asks Dick, who answers with a charming smile, "My cousin. Couch-climbing accident."

If he twirls around slowly on the spot while they wait, that's just because the floor is so nicely polished and Why Not. Tim, the poor kid, deserves some fun tonight after spraining more than his ankle in that alley; his pride could use a little healing, too.

The car arrives and Dick thanks the driver who opens the door, personally helping Tim in the back-seat.

Tim snorts a little when Dick starts twirling because c'mon, Dick, he's practically an adult! He doesn't object, though, because if Dick wants to be ridiculous, he can be ridiculous.

After a little shuffling around, Tim finds a way to sit so that his ankle is at least a little bit elevated and has the ice pack nestled on top of it. He gets quiet again on the drive to the hospital, trying to re-focus on some of the pain management techniques he knows.

Then Tim's phone goes off, because of course it does. He glances at the screen and groans. "It's B."

That's his job as an (unofficial) big brother, to do dumb stuff and give Tim the option of dissing him. As long as Dick gives him the choice of having fun, too, he doesn't mind being the butt of his own jokes.

The quiet in the car as Tim regulates his breathing, like the clever bean he is, finally gets disturbed by Bruce's call. Dick holds out a hand for the phone.

"He must've got around Alfred somehow. Pass it here."

"He'll know something's up anyway if you answer it," Tim points out, but he hands it over anyway. Better Dick than him.

"True, but which of us has been told off more?"

Fearlessly (at least, he hopes it looks that way) he brings the phone to his ear and hits connect.

"Hi, it's me ... He's fine, he's right beside me. We're on our way to — uh, sure. It was, yes, it was my fault, he just wanted to help me out and there was a lot more going on than I — no, I didn't ask him. He can make his own decisions. I remember, but he's not — yes, okay, I will. Of course!"

For Tim's benefit, he rolls his eyes.

"Okay, tell Alfred thanks. I'll let Tim know, yeah. Yes. Seeya. Phew," he adds once the calls ends. "So Alfred's the one who's going to let your parents know what happened as soon as we get you checked out and stuff, B says you're to let yourself heal and stay at the penthouse until you're better. I guess that makes us roomies?"

"Okay." He's a little relieved that Alfred's gonna be the one to handle his parents, even if he feels bad that everyone else is taking the fall for his stupid mistake. "Thank you. For, um, telling him it was your fault. You didn't have to."

"He would've been wondering why I was around to pick you up anyway, it's no problem." An idea strikes as the car makes a turn. "If you don't mind wearing," here he taps his eyes to mean the mask, "some accessories, I can patch up a link to your friends while you're grounded."

That way, Tim doesn't have to rely on Dick alone for company, although there's a good chance the rotation of who is available at Mount Justice for a chat will vary wildly.

He brightens up at that visibly. "Cool." It's not that he hates Dick's company or anything, but it'd be nice to not get cut off from his friends just cause of a stupid mistake.

Thanks to Alfred calling ahead and the attached Wayne name, when they arrive at the hospital, Tim's seen pretty much immediately. Dick's not allowed to come with since he isn't family, but it's not too long before he's allowed to come sit with Tim in a private room while he waits for the x-ray results. By that time, Tim's been given something a little stronger for the pain. If nothing else, it's turning some stupid show someone put on the television for him fascinating, and HD gives Dick a slightly distracted wave when he comes in.

He tries to wheedle his way in to stay with Tim when the nurses state he isn't family, but they have none of his charming smiles and Dick is forced to sit by uselessly in the waiting room until ushered through. By the time he finds him again, he's antsy.

"Hey, you okay?" Is it him, or is Tim a little woosy when he waves? Uh oh. On impulse, he feels the back of Tim's forehead with his hand. "Need a drink or something?"

He's not especially warm, just a little fuzzy around the edges. "'m okay," he says, words a little slurred but still perfectly understandable. "Tired." Pain medication tends to do that to him, especially when he's already kinda sleep-deprived (which is always; it's pretty much a chronic condition if you're a Bat).

Sometimes it's so easy to forget how much younger Tim is. He's gearing up to be a better detective than any of them, Dick suspects, but he needs to learn to slow things down once in a while. He's just a kid. As much as Dick had no one to really tell him to stop, what with Bruce more preoccupied than he maybe should have been, he doesn't want the same thing to happen to Tim.

He pats him on the arm, giving his hand a squeeze.

"When we get back, you're going straight to bed for a long lie-in tomorrow. No arguments. Okay? I don't want to hear a peep from you until gone noon, bud."

He's had a lot of years listening to the same sort of thing from Alfred, Dick's got this.

"'s not that bad," he says, although honestly he doesn't mind the idea of getting some sleep. He just feels like he should probably protest on principle. You don't manage to get out and follow Batman and Robin around for as long as he did if your parents don't have a pretty hands-off approach to parenting, so his concept of adult supervision is still a work in progress.

He's not really protesting very hard, though.

"Uh huh, and I'm wearing pink birdies next time we go out together."

A brush of his fingers through Tim's hair is given as a doctor re-enters with the x-rays, and then Dick gives him a nudge.

"Moment of truth! Let's see what you've won."

"Dick," Tim says, sounding exasperated, but he tries to pay attention to the doctor.

Today's grand prize is a lateral malleolus fracture, which the doctor assures Tim should heal fine without any surgery to correct the placement of the bone. But, Tim should stay off it for at least six weeks and come back a few times so they can x-ray it again and make sure it's still healing correctly.

They're left alone to wait again for someone to come along and see about putting it in a cast. At least this time, Tim's refreshed frustration at such a stupid injury is dulled a bit by the painkillers.

"Wow. That cat sure owes you, huh?"

He can't imagine how horrible it would be to spend six weeks off his feet again. The last time that happened, Dick was a clear foot shorter.

"We could always take a trip to Metropolis, if you want something to look forward to while you're out of action. I can get the time off after I'm done working."

"Yeah, it does." Not that he regrets it, cause if he'd gone crashing into a cat, it probably would've suffered a lot worse than an ankle fracture. Still.

"You don't have to," he says, automatic again. Unless he wants to go to Metropolis, he doesn't need to do anything just cause Tim has bad luck. "I don't know what my parents are gonna say."

"Let Alfred deal with your parents, there's no way on earth they're gonna get mad at him if they show up and he's cooked dinner."

The nurse that arrives to put Tim's lower leg in a cast is friendly but focused on her work, letting the boys continue their conversation.

"Isn't that what healing people need, sunshine and fresh air? Metropolis is perfect. We'll do it toward the end of your six weeks, that way you can probably hop about on some supports while you're there."

Well.

It does sound good. "...Okay." He considers it for another moment. "If my parents don't show up and want to parent, anyway."

"If they do, you're all theirs to fuss. If not, you're mine."

He stays with Tim throughout the cast being put on, insisting on being told how long he has to wait before doodling on it. As soon as they get home to the penthouse, Tim is going to find himself with several cat faces on his leg, absolutely no getting out of that. He can blame the giggly nurse who couldn't keep quiet.

A little hilariously, in his mild panic over Tim's injury Dick forgot to let the driver outside know they were good to leave them, but hey, there he is like any other good Wayne employee waiting for his charges. Maybe it's the fact Dick is hanging out with Tim, an actual kid, and the driver wants to ensure their trip back to the hotel is a safe one without incident.

Maybe he just doesn't want to lose his job.

During the drive home, Dick slips an arm around Tim to give him someone to rest against. He isn't the biggest fan of those drowse-inducing painkillers and wants to keep a close eye on him until they wear off.

He doesn't exactly look thrilled at the idea of his parents fussing over him, but then his relationship to Jack and Janet Drake has always been... complicated. For now, he's pretty content to just stick with Dick.

He still manages a few token protests against having his cast vandalized, but he gets progressively less active over time. By the time they get to the car, Tim's already pretty conked out, so it's not much of a surprise that he doses off on the car ride back. He's not really the cuddliest sleeper, but he seems pretty content where he is. Good luck waking him up, thought.

Dick does his best not to wake Tim up once they arrive back at the hotel, scooping him up bridal-style to carry him back into the elevator and all the way up to their private residence. He settles him in the spare bedroom that was once held by Jason, silently and stealthily tucking him in with a thick sock gently stretched around bare toes.

Dick stays up for most of the night after informing Alfred of how things went, as is his penchant. He's there in the spooky glow of his computer and holo-grids on the sofa is Tim awakens, listening out for any disturbances.

Tim does wake up, eventually, confused at first about where he is and how he got here. The throbbing in his ankle that's starting to gain sharpness again after being dulled by painkillers is a great reminder, though.

There isn't really anything he needs to get up for, but that doesn't stop him from doing it anyway to check on the situation. He's not exactly stealthy about it, though; it's just harder in general to be quiet with crutches and stuff, especially when you're still a little out of it.

[Honestly, probably the injured one, but open to either role.]

[Let's change it up. Matt taking care of Claire?]

[ either role | ota for gen, m/m if shippy ]

[ either role. ]

( they're bleeding! oh no. they are dead. )

jack vessalius | pandora hearts

watanuki kimihiro ☂ xxxholic ☂ ota

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

DONE

no subject

Thea Queen l Arrow

Magnus Bane | Shadowhunters

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

rey | star wars: the force awakens

arcueid brunestud | tsukihime | ota

koltira deathweaver | warcraft

glen ichinose | seraph of the end

no subject

yagiri namie | durarara!! | ota

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

god like three-fourths of this tag is just him being a giant nerd im so sorry...

giant nerd shizuo is my favorite, tbh. pls never apologize

wipes away single tear

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject