[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

[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...