[Milliways: Suite 132]

[slayer_fray]

[OOC: After this]

Mel climbs up on to the balcony without a problem. She's still got three working limbs and her foot is already feeling better. She heals fast.

Swinging herself over the railing, she still doesn't put most of her weight on the left. It's not like she needs to put on a brave face for anyone. So she limps lightly through the living room, not noticing the blood she's treading into the carpet, and heads towards the main bathroom. If she washes in the hot tub she's less likely to be found by people she doesn't want to explain this to.

Her head is buzzing, and not because of the blows she took. Something happened, something Raph didn't seem to recognise, and she doesn't know what or why or how, and she doesn't know what it means.

All she wants is to dress her foot, take a bath, and curl up in bed. And if she can do that without needing to think about anything, then good.

Comments

[mnt_mike]

Mike leaves the warmed cloth on her belly, before tipping her chin up so that their eyes meet. With a wet thumb he wipes the tracks of her tears off her cheeks.

"and now the shirt."

[slayer_fray]

She doesn't want to, not really, because that requires pulling away from him in order to shrug her arms out of the sleeves of her sweater and the black shirt underneath it.

But she does, and pulls them over her head. As she bends forward and tugs the garments over her head, he can probably see the bruises on the kidney area and back of the head, before her hair falls back and covers the latter area.

[mnt_mike]

He can and does. The tally sheet in the back of his mind continues to lenghten. Mike does his best to keep his breathing steady, to keep his face neutral, but he can't help thinking that the one that did this to her is going to pay.

Rinse. Repeat. Making sure to be ginger around the bruises as the cloth moves about her torso.

"How's the foot?"

[slayer_fray]

"Better," she says, prodding at it with the irrational curiosity of the wounded everywhere. "It may scar, but I'll live."

One of her hands snake around his waist, under his own shirt.

[mnt_mike]

He jumps slightly, her hands are just a touch colder than expected.

"Well that's good news. It's a hard time of year to find replacement girlfriends. What with the holidays and all.

Hungry?"

[slayer_fray]

"Not really," she says. When has she said anything else recently?

She just wants to stay here, with him.

[mnt_mike]

"Any chance you could be in three and a half to four hours? I brought stuff for lasagna."

He's not thinking about the soft cheeses slowly working their way towards the temperature dangerzone, so much as the blood on the living room carpet. She doesn't need to see that. And if Mike can help it, she'll never even know it was there.

[slayer_fray]

"Maybe?" Mel hazards. She hates refusing his food. Because she loves his food, and she loves him, and cooking for people brings him peace, of a sorts. "We has freeze it I'm not."

Because the freezer isn't already overflowing or anything.

[mnt_mike]

"This, also true. Okay, so how's this for a scenerio? We get something warm on you, get that ankle of yours elevated with a cold pack, I throw together a lasagna, and we see what happens?"

[slayer_fray]

"My ankle's fine," Mel points out, wiggling it to prove it.

"But sure, I guess."

As long as he's here, it'll be OK.

[mnt_mike]

Mike raises a very skeptical eyebrow at that, but turns to take a gander at the...clearly mobile ankle.

"Huh. Well uh...then how about a nice frozen margarita instead of the ice pack. Oooh! We've got left over umbrellas from the party."

[slayer_fray]

Mel smiles at that. Almost a real one as well.

Actually, it is a real one. It just has a lot of pain under it.

"Margarita would be rocketship."

[mnt_mike]

"Well then Little Miss My-Feet-Are-Fine-And-Dandy, why don't we get you up and into some warm jammies."

One arm under her knees. One behind her back. Mike rolls himself backwards slightly, while pulling his feet underneath him and stands.

[slayer_fray]

She draws up and snuggles into his arms.

The Vampire Slayer, yes. Best thief in all of Haddyn, yes. Badass criminal and superhero, sure. But right now she's happy to curl up in her boyfriend's arm and be carried.

"OK."

[mnt_mike]

There's no stopping the happy sigh that escapes his lips, or the chuckle that follows.

Her shirt, sweater, some towels and one of her boots still sit by the side of the tub.

"Here, let's see if we can't straighten this up just a skosh."

With skills honed by hears of hackey sack, Mike flips up the clothing, and kicks it closer to the hamper. Close is evidently good enough for horseshoes and handgrenades as well as laundry.

Then a quick shuffle kick sends the long lost boot skittering for its mate. A mate which then tips over with a dull leathery thud. The unexpected movement catches his eye.

His eyes widen as he processes what he sees.
A solid puncture that sits center over the arch of the boot, framed by two lesser indentations that sit an equal distance apart.

His jaw sets as pieces of puzzle begin to lock into place.
You don't fight side by side someone for years without picking up their favorite moves.

And this was one of his...