[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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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.]
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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.]