“No he doesn’t want flowers dammit !! Look just go get food for AntiChrists sake and get out of my hair about this.”
RockerRick had just finished ordering his PA to go shopping for him. Telling her to fill the flat with things Col might be able to use to cook for him again. The insufferable woman became giddy as fuck at the knowledge that he was having someone come back, and to spend the weekend with him. Women always had a fucking esp about these things.
In between grilling him for more information (What’s his name? How’d you meet him? Did he come to your show? Did he spend the night? Does he snore? It wouldn’t fucking stop) she was quickly typing away on her device “I’ll have the cleaner come today in stead, God look at the state of this place. You want that rare wine you like?” She order it before he could answer “I’ll get lots of stuff for all meal possibilities, they’ll definitely be more food in this flat then there ever had before.” Rocker knew she was likely to get the best stuff possible, she seemed to love spending his money. “Oh and how about I get him his own robe ? To match yours ?” She actually giggled.
“Oooookkayy that’s enough now. Jesus. Get out.” He winced as his shooing her away pulled at the wound in his shoulder. Damn it had bleed through his bandage again and stained his shirt.
“Are you okay boss?” She asked tone full of conern and fear for him.
“Yes dammit. I said get out. If you buy flowers so help me I will shove them down your throat.” He slammed the door behind her. He didn’t mean to be so mean to her, but ..well she was used to it.
He strode into the bathroom and gingerly pulled his shirt up over his head. Sharp hissing exhales of pain escaped his lips as he did so. The gauze wrapping his shoulder was saturated with blood and dripping down his chest. It had been stitched, but only just barely, as if it had half as many sutures as it should. Someone’s idea of a joke. He needed a shower, but his gut clenched at the idea of hot water on all his freshly lacerated skin. Ignoring the need to change his bandage, he went back to bed instead. He was still fucking exhausted from his ordeal.
In the wee hours of that morning he had awoken in his bed, aching and woozy. It had only taken the briefest of seconds to remember running off to find Evil and the savage encounter that had followed. He then realized what day it was, that his nervous little author was returning to him tomorrow and summoned his pa.
He didn’t hear her return with all the shopping, he was in the death grip of sleep straight through until Saturday morning. He stretched which was stupid because he felt several stitches pop in his back. God the fucker had really done a half assed I-dont-really-want-you-to-heal job sewing him up.
He disabled his security and shot the student a text to tell Col he would be able to portal into the flat, and to come as soon as he was able, then went into the bathroom in search of the mirror again.
Yeah he had torn several stitches in his back, those deep roughly carved gashes started oozing blood. He couldn’t help the smirk as he admired his newest addition. Oh how he liked this one. He left it uncovered.
He got out of his jeans gingerly, the massive angry looking wound on his thigh also needed redressing. He put fresh gauze on both his leg and shoulder, but hadn’t yet bothered to clean off a single speck of dried blood. He was a gruesome sight.
He went out to grab a cup of coffee that had mercifully mysteriously appeared in the room and took it over to stare out the window. Back to the day lit room, the first thing Col was likely too see when he portled into the flat was the blood dripping ‘evil’ that stretched across his previously unmarred skin.