themightybosstone | Limelight IC Inbox

[After the snowglobe, and when Brocade's sane enough to check his messages, there will be a new one waiting on his phone.]

Satin: I'll be in the suite for the next few hours.
Satin: Come back when you're ready.

[He's back later. Healed up but there's more than a few bloodied tears in his clothes. And around his collar.]

Oh hey, lemmie get changed.

[Looks up, looking him over, before looking back to his notebook.]

Leave me your shirt.

[Pulls it off and - yeah the pants go too when he sees the stains.]

[Takes the shirt. And the pants. And just gives the

elephant

in the room the most deadpan, hard-done-by stare, before looking back up to Brocade's face.]

Shower first, or I'll be cleaning bloodstains twice.

Yeah yeah. I was headin' there.

[Tromps on by, offending weapon removed from the area. You have some peaceful time alone while the shower turns on.]

[He's getting far too much practice with tears and bloodstains. Even clothing the size of Brocade's doesn't take that long anymore.

Restored and neatly folded, he leaves the garments and gets up to collect some things from the kitchen.]

[Cade comes back a ways later, towel around his neck, ears scraggly from the water. Different pair of clothes, at least.]

Hey, thanks for that.

[He nods, acknowledging that without any of their typical banter.]

How are you feeling?

Better. Feeling-

I dunno. More stable now, I guess.

[He flops onto the couch.]

I'm glad to hear it.

[There's the soft clinks of glassware and liquid from the kitchen, and he comes back with a glass filled with a single finger of clear liquid.]

Here. It will take the edge off.

Ah, SHIT YEAH.

[THAT'S WHAT HE NEEDS. JUST FUCKING DOWNS THAT]

[Instead of the burn of alcohol, or even the crisp nothing of water, the liquid in the glass tastes like Sentucky Fried Chicken, flavoured lightly with explanations that both do and do not make any sense at all.

Satin, meanwhile, takes a seat.]