[ one of the stitches opens up while he's in the shower, sensing it by a sudden ache throbbing by his shoulder blade. he hisses between his teeth as he thinks of marta, how she'd told him to be careful and what kind of concerned lines she might wear on her face if he asks her to check on it, but in his defense, he's not even sure how it's worked open again; he hasn't even been recklessly looking for a fight in all these days where he hasn't been sure how to fill the time.
when he reaches back, there's blood on his fingertips, and he swears beneath his breath, quiet at first, until his foot slides against the slippery tile beneath him, slipping back and banging his elbow hard on accident against the shower knobs.
there's no doubt it'll bruise, just another decorative piece along the rest of the beaten marks across elias ryker's body, but he still mutters a league of swears like he's dying. not because the pain is too much to bear — no, he's used to it as much as he's used to breathing. but because there's no time to be getting mixed up in these trivial wounds.
not when there are bigger things coming apart for him on the inside.
he's plenty frustrated by the time he finally slips out from the shower, skin dipping wet as the droplets cling to him as the only thing to cover his body. with kirigan out of the room, he doesn't have much concern for covering up, another few quiet swears leaving his lips as he rubs his towel over his damp hair.
when the door suddenly bursts open, he peaks out from behind the cotton, brows tight with his surprise, stunned to brief stillness, more confused by her sudden panicked presence than the fact that he's standing naked in the middle of his room. ]
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when he reaches back, there's blood on his fingertips, and he swears beneath his breath, quiet at first, until his foot slides against the slippery tile beneath him, slipping back and banging his elbow hard on accident against the shower knobs.
there's no doubt it'll bruise, just another decorative piece along the rest of the beaten marks across elias ryker's body, but he still mutters a league of swears like he's dying. not because the pain is too much to bear — no, he's used to it as much as he's used to breathing. but because there's no time to be getting mixed up in these trivial wounds.
not when there are bigger things coming apart for him on the inside.
he's plenty frustrated by the time he finally slips out from the shower, skin dipping wet as the droplets cling to him as the only thing to cover his body. with kirigan out of the room, he doesn't have much concern for covering up, another few quiet swears leaving his lips as he rubs his towel over his damp hair.
when the door suddenly bursts open, he peaks out from behind the cotton, brows tight with his surprise, stunned to brief stillness, more confused by her sudden panicked presence than the fact that he's standing naked in the middle of his room. ]
Marta? The fuck? What are you — ?