[ Honestly, Archie could have served it in a sippy cup and Rupert would have been thankful. He struggles up with a grimace of pain - his side was the worst place to get stabbed in, he swears to GOD - and gratefully takes both cups with shaky, blood-sticky hands. ]
God! Thank you, you're a saint-- [ The words are cut off as Rupert greedily buries his face in the first cup, resurfacing only after he's had a soul-fortifying mouthful. Later he'll remember to ask why the hell Archie has brandy - like, what is he, an eighty year old duke? - but for now he's just stupidly grateful for the distracting, unpleasant burn of spirit. ]
Right. Right. [ Another mouthful, larger than the first. He nods at Archie, white faced but determined. ] Whatever you're about to do, be quick. I shan't scream but I may kick you, and for that I apologise in advance...
[ Let him just drain this cup first! He needs this! ]
[ But Rupert has thighs for DAYS and he knows exactly how hard hr can kick - things he nearly points out to Archie, but then the hands happen. There isn't enough brandy in the world to make this kind of pain okay; Rupert writhes beneath Archie's touch, gasping in suppressed agony. And somehow doesn't spill any of his drink, which is a miracle in itself. ]
Christ Almighty, [ He hisses breathlessly, squirming against the pain. ] How - how do you make this worse than being stabbed?
[ He'd laugh if he wasn't in so much pain; as it is Rupert just offers a shaky smile between gritted teeth. ]
Something like that...
[ A fine layer of sweat has broken out across his forehead (and very nearly everywhere else too) and the knuckles of each hand have gone white around his brandy. Honestly, Archie, he'll give you the whole story when he's less likely to puke, okay? Okay. ]
[ Thirty seconds sounds awful but Rupert takes a shaky breath and grits his teeth afresh, tensing beneath Archie's hands as he endures the last half minute. He's pale as death but putting on a brave face, refusing to cry out even as the pain crescendos and he counts in a hoarse whisper all the way down to zero. ]
[when it seems like the wound has completely closed up, archie lets go and steps back. picks up the bottle from where he'd dumped it on the floor and holds it out.]
[ He takes the bottle but doesn't drink, instead letting his head fall back against the pillow with a shaky, relieved laugh. Not being in pain feels blissful now. ]
Give me a moment and I'll clean it up, don't you fret. It's the least I can do, all things considered...
[ With one sticky hand he feels out the healed skin at his side, where the blade had sliced him open so cleanly. Opening his eyes once more he peers at the bloodied, ragged hole in his black jumpsuit with a grimace. He'll have to find someone with magical sewing powers in the morning. ]
You've done a damned fine job, you know. I'm highly impressed.
One of those 'better the less you know' things, I imagine.
[ Not that Rupert is squeamish but he's happy for his insides to remain a mystery to everyone, thanks! He wipes the bloody hand against his black clothes and takes a healthy swig straight from the bottle. ]
Thank you, quite honestly. I believe I owe you a considerable favour now.
[ Spaghetti-looking. Yeah, Rupert see that. He nods sagely as he slowly peels himself away from Archie's blood-stained sheets and sits up with a hand pressed gingerly over where the wound was. ]
I'm always surprised by how much blue-y purple there is, [ He replies conversationally. ] On the inside, I mean.
You've had worse on it, I'm quite sure, [ Rupert points out amiably as he shuffles to the edge of the bed, dragging a handful of Archie's sheets with him. He bundles them up, sticky patches and all, and regards the armful. ]
Blood is terribly difficult to get out, you know. Shall I dispose of them and buy you fresh things?
Alas, I haven't quite perfected the art of making my insides as attractive as my outsides, [ Rupert replies with mock dismay, lessened only by his brilliant smile of amusement. He peels apart a mini-portal to somewhere dark and myserious and promptly stuffs the disgusting pile of sheets in there to be dealt with later. ]
I'll return shortly.
[ And with that he pads away to the bathroom, doing his best not to drip any remaining blood on his person all over Archie's floors. ]
[he's clearly quite impressed at that power, but doesn't comment on it. as he said, archie gives rupert some space for a little while while he sees to other things around his place. releases mightyena again, calms it. explains the situation. gets some proper glasses of brandy together and...
well, that's about all he does, actually. this isn't a party or a hotel. he'll be in the main room, mightyena next to him. watching some shit on tv.]
[ In the privacy of Archie's bathroom Rupert surveys himself in the mirror in dismay: pale, sweaty and blood-stained isn't his normal look and he isn't a fan of it. He pushes his hair this way and that, trying to look marginally less like a corpse, and throws a few handfuls of warm water over his face to sluice away the worst of his sweat. The damp patch in his clothing where the blood had seeped through is still uncomfortably wet; he makes short work of stripping out of his black uniform and bundles it away into another portal. This one leads to his own bedroom, right by his wardrobe, and he stretches an arm through it to fish out a clean t-shirt and a pair of jeans. All mercifully unbloodstained, which is a vast improvement on his work clothes.
By the time he returns to Archie five minutes later, Rupert actually looks like a normal human being who hasn't been stabbed. He gives Archie a bashful, boyish grin and offers the dog-creature a telepathic wash of good-natured 'hello' thoughts. ]
I hope you haven't got anywhere terribly important to be in the morning. I've rather disrupted your night, haven't I?
Yes, I'm rather pleased I'm not dead too, [ Rupert agrees cheerfully. He takes the second glass of brandy with a 'is this for me?' quirk of his brows and settles on the edge of Archie's mattress. ]
I'll try to give you something of a warning next time.
[ Because, yeah, there will definitely be a next time. Rupert knows what Rupert is about. ]
Uh huh. I'd have to feed ya to Muk and bones make him sick.
[gross.]
I'd appreciate it, but don't worry about it. One time some guy showed up with his arm blown off. That was fucked up. I was still finding bone fragments in the carpet for weeks after...
[ Christ, that's -- disgusting. But Rupert takes it gamely in his stride and even manages to slide a sympathetic hand on to the healer's knee. His expression is one of mock pious solemnity as he shakes his head. ]
Oh dear, you poor soul. Whatever can I do to make up for such trauma?
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God! Thank you, you're a saint-- [ The words are cut off as Rupert greedily buries his face in the first cup, resurfacing only after he's had a soul-fortifying mouthful. Later he'll remember to ask why the hell Archie has brandy - like, what is he, an eighty year old duke? - but for now he's just stupidly grateful for the distracting, unpleasant burn of spirit. ]
Right. Right. [ Another mouthful, larger than the first. He nods at Archie, white faced but determined. ] Whatever you're about to do, be quick. I shan't scream but I may kick you, and for that I apologise in advance...
[ Let him just drain this cup first! He needs this! ]
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[he gives rupert's forearm a little squeeze, then shifts his hands to the wound. using both of them to make it go a little faster.
it doesn't, but it's a placebo archie isn't aware of just yet.]
We're good. Just tell me if you want me to stop if the pain gets too much or whatever, aite?
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Christ Almighty, [ He hisses breathlessly, squirming against the pain. ] How - how do you make this worse than being stabbed?
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[he keeps his hands on rupert, seeing as he's not been told to stop. there's nothing else he can really do.]
How'd this happen, anyway? You make a pass at the wrong person?
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Something like that...
[ A fine layer of sweat has broken out across his forehead (and very nearly everywhere else too) and the knuckles of each hand have gone white around his brandy. Honestly, Archie, he'll give you the whole story when he's less likely to puke, okay? Okay. ]
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Great. Almost done. Count down from 30.
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[ Thirty seconds sounds awful but Rupert takes a shaky breath and grits his teeth afresh, tensing beneath Archie's hands as he endures the last half minute. He's pale as death but putting on a brave face, refusing to cry out even as the pain crescendos and he counts in a hoarse whisper all the way down to zero. ]
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There ya go! That weren't so bad, was it?
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[ He takes the bottle but doesn't drink, instead letting his head fall back against the pillow with a shaky, relieved laugh. Not being in pain feels blissful now. ]
We've had better nights together, haven't we?
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[he grimaces.]
...S'more fun when I don't have to clean it up.
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[ With one sticky hand he feels out the healed skin at his side, where the blade had sliced him open so cleanly. Opening his eyes once more he peers at the bloodied, ragged hole in his black jumpsuit with a grimace. He'll have to find someone with magical sewing powers in the morning. ]
You've done a damned fine job, you know. I'm highly impressed.
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[he has blankets and stuff he can use.]
Luckily my power means I don't need any medical knowledge, because I sure as shit ain't got none of that.
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[ Not that Rupert is squeamish but he's happy for his insides to remain a mystery to everyone, thanks! He wipes the bloody hand against his black clothes and takes a healthy swig straight from the bottle. ]
Thank you, quite honestly. I believe I owe you a considerable favour now.
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[god, he's seen way too much shit.]
Nah, it's good. Don't worry about it. Just bunch all that stuff up into a bag and we'll call it even.
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I'm always surprised by how much blue-y purple there is, [ He replies conversationally. ] On the inside, I mean.
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Blood is terribly difficult to get out, you know. Shall I dispose of them and buy you fresh things?
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[standing up, he nods.]
Aye, but don't worry about it just now. Bathroom's to the right. Get cleaned up-- I'll leave ya to it for a short while.
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I'll return shortly.
[ And with that he pads away to the bathroom, doing his best not to drip any remaining blood on his person all over Archie's floors. ]
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well, that's about all he does, actually. this isn't a party or a hotel. he'll be in the main room, mightyena next to him. watching some shit on tv.]
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By the time he returns to Archie five minutes later, Rupert actually looks like a normal human being who hasn't been stabbed. He gives Archie a bashful, boyish grin and offers the dog-creature a telepathic wash of good-natured 'hello' thoughts. ]
I hope you haven't got anywhere terribly important to be in the morning. I've rather disrupted your night, haven't I?
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[ah, the fun of trauma.]
Don't worry about it. I don't think I was sleepin' properly anyway. I'm just glad you ain't dead.
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I'll try to give you something of a warning next time.
[ Because, yeah, there will definitely be a next time. Rupert knows what Rupert is about. ]
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[gross.]
I'd appreciate it, but don't worry about it. One time some guy showed up with his arm blown off. That was fucked up. I was still finding bone fragments in the carpet for weeks after...
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Oh dear, you poor soul. Whatever can I do to make up for such trauma?
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