[A side program of sorts is whirring in the back of L's mind, wondering what he's left here that he shouldn't, if he's managed to collect everything he needs to or if anything he leaves could be incriminating or used to hurt him later. The letter, he will take, and burn, and he'll wash his hands of the fur as soon as possible. An internal debate orbits itself like a binary star system, weighing whether or not he should tell Myr about Niles, or the fact that the chimera could be on his way here, now.
They could move on, they should move on. But L is a mass of pain; like anything wounded, his progress will be halting and difficult, in more ways than affect the visceral meat of his body.]
Thank you for being here. I know it's not easy.
[And there are other things Myr would rather be doing, other ways he would rather spend his morning, other sensations and emotions he would rather feel. No amount of care can turn someone into a true masochist.]
We... should go, shouldn't we?
[L reaches for the crook of Myr's arm, not alone, but resisting the urge to lean.]
[There it is: They've reached the bounds of this discussion, here and now. There are a multitude of reasons not to push it, not least among them L's battered state, yet there's a part of Myr still that aches to do it--that tendency in him to hunt a thought to its conclusion, push an argument to its end. That same tendency that brought them together, that means he's the one here for the morning-afters, to pick his Bonded up however L needed-- Oh, there are doubtless more pleasant ways Myr could be spending his morning, but it would not occur to wish for them now.]
You are welcome, [the faun says, a grave formality to his voice; one that does not hide the unstinting warmth in him, even so.] We're Bonded, after all; and I'm glad to.
[He would be glad to do worse and harder, if it could keep L from another such night.
He holds his arm out for L, inclining his head to the question.]
We should. And, I suspect, ask about healers on our way out. [All his understanding of things like brothels was book-knowledge, but surely the serials had gotten it right that the proprietors of such places would have healers with a sense of discretion among their contacts.]
[L's grip is anemic, his stance unsteady. It's difficult not to simply collapse into the stable presence that Myr represents, and even more difficult to think of what might be a taxing journey on foot. Hopefully, the healer is close; hopefully the road is smooth and the promise of feeling better will prove adequate anesthetic to soothe each sore step.
Downstairs, they're able to get a recommendation with little more than a shrug from the madam. Idiots hurt themselves all the time, after all, doing things that aren't meant to be dangerous, and she seems almost bored as she hands over the jotted-down address.
It's several blocks away. L reads it out to Myr, a flatness in his tone indicating that he's unhappy with the distance.]
The sooner we go... the sooner we'll get there, and then I'm sure we'll actually be able to enjoy breakfast...
[Steps on the stairs, and steps to find the madam, and more trudging, weary steps yet beyond that to find the healer, and then beyond to home--
Something in Myr snaps under the weight of L's suffering, under the insults his Bonded's endured through the last night and this awful morning, under that grim unhappiness with the distance yet before them. He listens to the address, setting a seal on it in his memory, then makes his decision.]
Here, [he says, handing over their breakfast.] Hold this. And-- [He slings his staff by its carry-strap across his back, arranging it with a few impatient, practiced flicks of his hands.] --forgive me, amatus.
[Because he isn't about to ask permission, though there is a warning that ripples through their Bond before he stoops to gather L bodily into his arms. Bird-boned as the detective is, it won't be any trouble at all to carry him like this--even for several blocks.]
You'll need to be my eyes for this, [he adds, almost as an afterthought. He hadn't come here himself, isn't familiar enough with the streets to walk without any kind of guidance.
[L fingers close around the meals that Myr pushes toward him, then tighten as the faun apologizes in advance. He realizes what for a few seconds before Myr lifts him with startling ease, and it's disquieting due to the reminder of a monster's inherent strength, and perhaps, also, the sobering reality that his habits have pared a slight build into something actually frail.]
No, ah...! Myr, it's actually...
[It's OK, I can walk, I want to be in control... except that he's not, and Myr's steadiness is a stark contrast to his own wavering, shuffling steps. Though he'd seized initially like a crushed spider when his Bonded had scooped him up, he goes softer and slacker in Myr's arms, accepting of the arrangement. Bruised pride is scarcely his sorest site.]
...of course. We need to take a right in roughly twenty meters, and the way is clear.
[Relatively, anyway. They're a spectacle enough that others are giving them a somewhat wide berth.]
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They could move on, they should move on. But L is a mass of pain; like anything wounded, his progress will be halting and difficult, in more ways than affect the visceral meat of his body.]
Thank you for being here. I know it's not easy.
[And there are other things Myr would rather be doing, other ways he would rather spend his morning, other sensations and emotions he would rather feel. No amount of care can turn someone into a true masochist.]
We... should go, shouldn't we?
[L reaches for the crook of Myr's arm, not alone, but resisting the urge to lean.]
no subject
You are welcome, [the faun says, a grave formality to his voice; one that does not hide the unstinting warmth in him, even so.] We're Bonded, after all; and I'm glad to.
[He would be glad to do worse and harder, if it could keep L from another such night.
He holds his arm out for L, inclining his head to the question.]
We should. And, I suspect, ask about healers on our way out. [All his understanding of things like brothels was book-knowledge, but surely the serials had gotten it right that the proprietors of such places would have healers with a sense of discretion among their contacts.]
no subject
Downstairs, they're able to get a recommendation with little more than a shrug from the madam. Idiots hurt themselves all the time, after all, doing things that aren't meant to be dangerous, and she seems almost bored as she hands over the jotted-down address.
It's several blocks away. L reads it out to Myr, a flatness in his tone indicating that he's unhappy with the distance.]
The sooner we go... the sooner we'll get there, and then I'm sure we'll actually be able to enjoy breakfast...
no subject
Something in Myr snaps under the weight of L's suffering, under the insults his Bonded's endured through the last night and this awful morning, under that grim unhappiness with the distance yet before them. He listens to the address, setting a seal on it in his memory, then makes his decision.]
Here, [he says, handing over their breakfast.] Hold this. And-- [He slings his staff by its carry-strap across his back, arranging it with a few impatient, practiced flicks of his hands.] --forgive me, amatus.
[Because he isn't about to ask permission, though there is a warning that ripples through their Bond before he stoops to gather L bodily into his arms. Bird-boned as the detective is, it won't be any trouble at all to carry him like this--even for several blocks.]
You'll need to be my eyes for this, [he adds, almost as an afterthought. He hadn't come here himself, isn't familiar enough with the streets to walk without any kind of guidance.
But they'd manage. They are Bonded, after all.]
no subject
No, ah...! Myr, it's actually...
[It's OK, I can walk, I want to be in control... except that he's not, and Myr's steadiness is a stark contrast to his own wavering, shuffling steps. Though he'd seized initially like a crushed spider when his Bonded had scooped him up, he goes softer and slacker in Myr's arms, accepting of the arrangement. Bruised pride is scarcely his sorest site.]
...of course. We need to take a right in roughly twenty meters, and the way is clear.
[Relatively, anyway. They're a spectacle enough that others are giving them a somewhat wide berth.]