hopepainandshit | TLV: IC Inbox

Who was it, aaaand do I need to go and get someone to stop anyone from bleeding out?

[The genuine concern is shallowly buried beneath blithe amusement.]

I'm not saying, but I forced him to get looked at. I let him get a few good hits in, so I'm coming to yours to get cleaned up.

[Before Jamie sees him.]

["Him" doesn't narrow it down, but he's at least familiar enough with what most people openly carried to make an educated guess. Probably.]

I'll get some hot water going for you, shall I?

Appreciated.

[Because when he does get to Richter's, he's exhausted and bloody, though most of it isn't his. It's black, splashed across his chest and abdomen, though his arm is a mangled mess due to a row of sharp cuts. Like bitemarks.]

[He's got a deep steaming bowl and some rags on the table, ready to go when he gets there. Perks of being able to make fire happen whenever you want.

He's also got a blanket piled on the floor for Tiff, who remains lying on it when Corvo walks in, but she shifts her head to see when the door opens, and her tail thumps happily on the stone floor when she sees him.]

Do I get three guesses, or should I pretend it's not incredibly obvious?

I'll thank you to pretend.

[He doesn't give the dog as wide of a berth as he might have before, stripping out of his coat and shirt so he can use the warm water against his wounds. They'll heal, but they're deep enough to take a while.]

Anywhere you need a hand taking care of?

[He bends to dig for another bowl, since he wasn't anticipating black blood. Probably that'll dirty the water a lot faster.]

[He holds out his mangled arm.]

Need help to wrap that tight. [The rest of it is easy to manage.]

[Then bandages come too, when he puts the fresh water down; and a jar of salve Tera kept for moments like this.]

This'll sting, but since you can never be sure where another person's mouth has been...

[He has to draw a line somewhere, he supposes, and it's letting his inmate risk getting an infection from something as stupid as fighting a demon.]

I have a few guesses. [But he will endure it as best he can.]

He asked for it. Fucking told me he was going to do it.

Sounds like something he needed.

Probably something he still needs, since you didn't finish him off. Isn't that usually what that sort is after?

[Too proud to admit it hurts so they get someone to make it happen for them.

And for as annoyed and put-upon he might be, having his inmate get the shit kicked out of him basically for fun, he's still careful and attentive as he tends to Corvo's arm.]

I could have, but I'm not going to kill him. He's a friend.

[He sniffs, biting back a wince.]

I don't think he quite knew what I could do.

I don't think most people do, with you.

[It's approving. He likes that his inmate's a tricksy fuck to everyone.]

Right. [He ties off the bandage at his wrist, so he can remove it again later.] If it doesn't get better, because of any fucking demon bullshit, please go to the infirmary? Or Jamie's going to be disappointed in both of us.

[He inspects the bandaging and nods.]

I will. I don't want to lose my fucking arm. [He picks up his shirt and throws it back on, hoping that he has time to change and stash the shirt away before Jamie gets home.]

Thank you.

[The shirt is entirely unsubtle as to the fact Corvo's been in a fight, so Richter taps his shoulder with his knuckles when he's got the shirt back on again.]

Maybe lose the shirt, though. Get changed and drop this one off, I can sew it up for you.

[He sighs and pulls it up, revealing the bruises.]

It's all going to look like I was in a fight.

TLV: IC Inbox

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