2019-06-15 - Wellness Check

There wasn't so much a plan last night so much as a singular decision that Easton acted on with the intense focus of any mission. Of course to say the least it could have gone better. The small group managed to confirm that yes, spooky house is haunted and the girl is gone. Things that were already pretty much known ahead of time. And in the midst, some jerk tried to hurt his gun. His gun! It was downhill from there despite his bravado that they could do something. Which technically they did, if screaming, throwing up and then freaking out at seeing a ghost girl in the road, wrapping his jeep around a tree before setting it on fire with dropped cigarette. So yea, overall: not his best night.

Easton spent the night in the hospital, getting checked out for internal bleeding. He was released earlier today and meant to just go home for a small nap. But during the discharge the discussion of pain management came up and well, to say he played it just a little bit into his favor is being kind. Which brings us to the lost day of Easton basically passed out on his couch, drinking (because mixing booze and pills is fun!) and kind of forgetting to do anything approaching responsible or decent. Good job Easton.

If Bennie slept last night it wasn't well, which is saying something considering how little the blonde actually gets on average anyways. Her eyes are harrowed and shadowed, though she still manages to give Byron and Vivian a smile when they meet her en route to Easton's apartment.

"Sorry to have them bother you, but this isn't like him. At least I don't think this is like him? I have a small from of reference where this most certainly isn't like him. But he's not answering calls or texts and the bar hasn't heard from him." She wrings her hands together. "And security wasn't going to let me in, if they couldn't contact Easton, so. So sorry again. I feel awful. And worried. Worried and awful."

Byron was already preparing to enjoy his evening, having just finished his last business video call for the day. So when he gets a message from security downstairs about a woman asking to see one of his tenants and then being told the reason for this visit, he's already out of his suit jacket and is just about to undo his tie. There was no time for that now.

Having met Bennie in the lobby, alongside Vivian whose curiosity was piqued by this emergency call, he now leads the pair along the hallway towards Easton's suite door. The ring of tenants keys are already out and in hand. "I can't vouch for Mister Marshall, but he pays his rent on time and I've never had a complaint about him." This speaks of Easton's character! Coming to a stop just outside of Suite #400, he knocks first, rapping his knuckles against the wood door, "This is Byron Thorne," Your landlord, "I'm just checking to make sure that everything's alright in there?"

There is a quick smile for Bennie, apology accepted, but Vivian has switched hats from following along out of curiosity or something bordering professional interest. "Is there any reason that Mister Marshall might have for not answering your texts, or contacting the bar?" Unlike Byron she's well beyond work clothes for the day, and has one designer jeans, a t-shirt far more expensive than simple cotton ever should be and hastily donned sandals.

When Byron goes ahead and knocks on the door she waits, but isn't watching him. Instead she seems to be watching Bennie to see if there is anything about her demeanor, or her answer, that might give them an idea of what might be on the other side of that door.

Oh Easton. The TV is on in the apartment, loud enough possibly to make the knock difficult to hear. It doesn't help that there is apparently also music playing? Not as loudly but it just adds to the general swell of noise from inside the apartment. Easton's not really watching the TV and doesn't even realize he left the music on.. No, he's laid out on the couch, clothed only in a white undershirt and pair of boxers. He's obviously fully relaxed as he has taken of his prosthetic leg and has hooked his left knee up over the couch. A beer rests on his stomach and his head rolls back and forth. His face looks pretty banged up with a black eye and bandage on his nose, but he doesn't seem too unhappy about it at the moment.

However there's no answer to the knock at the door

Bennie does not wear fancy clothes, but rather expertly pieced together second hand items that she dresses up with accessories. Her long skirt is swirling around her ankles comes to a hurried stop outside Easton's door, paired with a lavender tank with a gauzy t-shirt over the top. "He was out late last night, helping others investigate a missing girl. Said he was on his way over, then poof, nothing. What if he's laying in there bleeding to death or something! It could be a medical emergency." Like the heart attack that Bennie is about to endure if Byron doesn't make with those keys soon.

The room is obviously not empty and if it is, then something was amiss, because there's definitely noise that can be heard on the other side of this door. Byron tries again a few times, his gaze flickering between the two women to ensure that yes, they too can hear the sounds coming from within. "Mister Marshall, if you can hear me, I'm coming in." Thorne's going in even if Easton can't hear him, but those words are a call of warning.

As an aside to Bennie, he murmurs, "If anything did happen to him, I hope he was taken to the hospital first. But whatever is going on in there, we'll get to the bottom of this." Then there's this moment of pause where he seems to be lost in thought, that key still in hand. It soon passes.

Once the door is unlocked, Byron does just as he'd warned he'd do. He knew someone was inside, so even with the distraction of the television and all that noise, his gaze seeks out that bit of consciousness that he could detect. He doesn't have to look far. Clearly being able to see what shape Easton is in, he steps forward to better check on the man, "I called out to see if anyone was inside and there was no response. Are you... alright?"

"Have you called the police or local hospitals?" Vivian wonders, her attention swinging towards Byron, then down to the keys in his hand. If she is at all worried that there might be a medical emergency she is managing to keep this well under wraps. Instead she adopts the very calm, very cool exterior, "I'm sure that whatever has happened there is a reasonable explanation."

No comment on the bleeding to death aspect, though. Vivian keeps that thought well inside as she waits for Byron to get that door open so that she can follow Bennie and him in through the door. Once inside she glances around, trying to locate the sources of the noise, the music mostly. Television is fairly obvious.

The main area of the apartment is not all that grand, and very, very sparsely furnished. The couch and coffee table are the only furniture to speak of, though there is a TV on the wall and some stool at the kitchen counter. All that to say, it's not hard to locate Easton. Lifting his head up off the couch as the door opens, Easton gives the group a glazed look, not quite comprehending at first why they are coming to his apartment. He blinks a few times at Byron's question before responding in a chipper if gravely voice, "Great. How are you.. Byron?" The emphasis is weird, but what are you gonna do. Easton then realizes that Bennie is there too and smiles big. He waves with his non-beer hand and says "Heey youu." as if he had not just dropped off the face of the earth for a bit.

"I wanted to try this first before I earned the full blown paranoid psychotic girlfriend badge." As Byron opens the door, Bennie is just at his shoulder, barely restraining the urge to rush right past him once the door is unlocked. Her heavy purse is unloaded with a THUNK as she gets inside as she sees Easton laying on the couch, looking fully relaxed and...a bit glassy eyed.

"Seriously?"

Byron's not going to ask again whether Easton had heard him outside or not, though he is quick to respond to the other man's answer to his inquiry of well-being, "You don't /look/ great." He's just being honest. "Bennie was worried about you so that's why we're here now." He's not even sure if Easton can comprehend all that he is saying right now! "Did you get into a fight?" While he's examining the guy from afar, a casual look is also given the state of the apartment, even as he continues, "Or a car accident maybe?"

"Mmm." Vivian responds, moving to shut the door behind them so that anyone in the hallway isn't going to overhear what is happening. Then she rubs her hands absently against her jeans, scanning the room before she starts in Easton's direction. Paranoid, psychotic girlfriend she is not, but her move might rapidly become clear when she reaches where Easton is on the couch, "Mister Marshall, this is Doctor Glass....do you remember me?"

Easton doesn't seem to get the tone, or the message behind the 'seriously?' from Bennie. His eyes narrow as Byron helpfully explains why they are there. Seriously he could use just about everything spelled out for him right about now. He frowns at first question from Byron, "No." but then he ammends, "Almost." Alex tried to break his gun! Considering the pill bottle and a few empty beers sit on the table, it's not exactly hard for Vivian or anyone to figure out what's gone down here. Byron's second guess however gets a full on beer point, in that he points with the bottle and spills a bit on himself. "Yes! I mean.. yes. I wrapped my jeep, Hank, god rest his soul, around a tree. And now he's dead." He gives a soft, inappropriate laugh, "Like that little girl."

He looks at Vivian as she asks if he remembers her. He says "Uhh? Dirty martini?" Even inebriated that bartender instinct kicks in.

To circumvent the others, Bennie steps up and over the arm of the couch and settles between Easton's legs (well, leg and a half!) without so much of a curtesy as removing her shoes first. "My god, E." Her voice has a slight whine to it, like a puppy that just realized its owner is in distress. "Do you need me to call the insurance company? Or have it towed some place?" He has a bandage on his nose so he must've been treated by somebody. All the while she's reaching to try and remove that beer from his grasp and mop up the spill on his shirt with the hem of her skirt.

Byron's no nurse, so he doesn't immediately go to the man's aid! In fact, in his eyes, Easton looks like he was already treated, coming to the same assumption that Bennie does. Seeing that Bennie moves in close to examine the guy, the landlord looks for the television remote before leaning over to reach for it, his gaze lifted to try and make some sort of eye contact with Easton, "Mind if I turn the television off?" Those eyes then wander about the room to find his stereo system, "The music too?"

Though he knows about Easton's leg, there's still this curiosity that makes him glance in that direction for a mere few seconds once the remote is taken in hand. "Sounded like some accident. Glad you're alright, man." He says, even if they've been nowhere near the best of friends, but Easton /is/ a tenant. Now, this mention of the little girl brings his brow to a knit, "So she's found? The missing girl?" He can only assume.

"That's right, dirty martini." Vivian agrees, reaching for the pill bottle to check what is printed on it, and how many pills are left in the bottle. Then she sets the bottle down to get to her feet, moving away from the couch. She crosses her arms a moment, looking like she might honestly want to say something more, but she curbs that desire for the moment.

Easton makes room for Bennie to join him on the couch. He looks at her and her very reasonable questions and says, "I.. think I talked to a cop?" Maybe it was an EMT. Hmm. He's fuzzy on details, and the larger things too. Easton watches Vivian pick up the bottle and his eyes narrow. The prescription is for Oxycontin, because Easton managed to talk his way up from Percocet. There are not many pills missing, but more than the prescribed dose at any case. He relaxes a bit when she puts it back down and he returns to Byron's questions about turning things off, "Oh, yeah. I .. sure."

The questions about the little girl cause his face to darken. He says "Yea. We found her. The house ate her." Kind of true? "And apparently other girls? Some crazy victorian nanny tried to get us to leave? And.. something about close the door?" He gets that out and then takes a swig of beer before laying his head back down, with a concerned and painful creasing of his brow.

Bennie's subtle ploy to remove the beer from Easton apparently failed, so she just settles back on her heels where she's kneeling on the couch. "Alright, so I'm not going to dissolve into a babbling puddle of girlfriend in front of the people that were so kind to help me, but E, you really should have had someone call around. Let people know you were okay."

Once given permission, Byron turns the television off first, then directs the remote to the stereo and rather than kill the sound completely, he just lowers the volume most of the way down, giving the scene some sort of ambiance for whatever reason. From there, he reaches into his pocket for his phone, his voice can be heard quietly speaking into it. "We found him. Yes, he was in his apartment. No need for a search party or for backup." Hey, there are three apartment buildings in this complex, if someone's missing, there's a lot of ground to cover!

His conversation with his security guy now cut, the phone slips back into his pocket. He asks a mundane question even if what Easton says about the house is eating away at the back of his mind, "Will you be alright then? Is there something that we could get for you? Dinner maybe?" He's not sure whether the guy's eaten or not!

No, he's not going to ignore the house for very long, though he's unsure whether the answers given will be to the best of Easton's knowledge in his condition, "This has been going on for years then?" He's now thinking about on whether he can recall any of that being reported. "Er... a woman was there as well? I figure the police are on the case right?" It could very well be just some psychotic matter, but Byron's lived in this town long enough and recent events has him thinking otherwise.

The house information gets the sort of expected alarmed look from Vivian, especially when Byron seems to be buying into the story. She shakes her head at him, brows furrowing a fraction before she glances at Bennie then to the bottles. Beer and oxy. "I would suggest that you stay with him, until he's sober...but in the meantime move things out of his reach." It is probably not quiet enough for Easton to not overhear it, but she might be banking on the fact that he's too messed up to grasp what is being said.

Maybe.

"If the police isn't investigating the matter, then they should be if several girls have gone missing." Because Vivian isn't ready to think about a house actually eating people. Nope.

"Yes" Easton agrees that he should have done what Bennie suggested. And really he meant to! But then he got distracted and it was easier not to and well, here we are. He looks confused when Byron tells the person on the phone that they found him. It momentarily makes him look at Byron warily, before he realizes he's being paranoid. That's totally normal. The question about needing anything or food catches him off guard though. His head quirks to the side and he blinks, "That's... really fucking nice of you." Maybe because he's remembering something and in deed clarifies, "Cause I'm pretty sure the only thing you owe me is a punch in the teeth. But no, I'm good. Maybe once my nose heals up though? Goodness knows I deserve it."

The comments about moving things out of his reach, just bring a slight mischevious smile to his lips. Jokes on them, he has been getting himself beers and whatever else without moving from the couch. Powers! Yay!

Coming back to talk about the house, he shakes his head. "Unless yer cops double as ghost busters? I don't think they can do much. I shot the lady dead center mass, three shots just hit the wall and window behind her. She ain't living. Or at least, doesn't have a shootable body." If Byron wants to pretend like the spooky happenings are just stories, Easton's not exactly in the mood for subtlety it seems.

Bennie runs fingers through her hair with a hand that's ringed on every digit with plastic gaudy jewelry that looks as if she could have gotten most of it out of a coin operated vending machine. The movement ends by her palm being ground into one of her eye sockets, trying to banish all the mixed emotions coupled with exhaustion that's threatening her sunny disposition. "Yeah, I have a couple of hours." She mumbles to Vivian, then lifts her gaze with a sliver of her regular smile touching her lips.

"Haunted houses. Victorian nannies. Ghost children. And I thought the murder/suicide the other day was creepy enough, right?" Bennie shifts to climb over the arm of the couch again with far less gusto this time. "Lemme grab you some water, babe." It's the subtle agreement she gives Vivian's assessment of keeping things out of his reach.

Bennie pads into the kitchen, knowing at least where to find the glasses to fill one from the tap. She pauses with her back to the others in front of the sink, taking a drink from it herself.

The Byron standing here today is rather different than the Byron Easton may be remembering when they were still kids. Oh, he's always had some sort of confidence in himself, but he had the wealth to back it all up now. Hearing the other man's words, there's this quiet intensity within his dark eyes as he looks on the drugged out Easton on the couch. The intensity is hidden behind this seemingly good-humored smile, "I think the meds and the beer are getting to your head." Giving off this 'I don't know what you're talking about' vibe. He does finish off with, "But hey, if that's what you want me to do, let's call it a date."

He was eager to listen to Easton talk about the house and what happened within. In fact, he was hoping to learn more... however, when Easton announces that he shot a woman and that the bullets made no contact to her whatsoever, his eyes carefully look first on Bennie then on Vivian. "That must've been... yeah. I'll check in with the GHPD and see what they've found," He says, attention returned to the guy who was nearly killed, "Though I have a feeling they won't be very forthcoming."

"Yeah...water is good." Vivian encourages Bennie, giving Easton a very concerned look before she moves towards the kitchen. Drugs and alcohol should never mix. She leaves Byron to deal with Easton's crazed discussions, and instead reaches into her pocket to pull out a business card, offering it to Bennie, "If you need an extra set of hands in the next few hours, call me. I'd suggest getting him moving around, but as long as he doesn't drink more, or take any more of those pills, I imagine you can avoid taking him in to have his stomach pumped."

There is a small bit of hesitation before Vivian adds, "But if he continues with the delusions once sober, call me. I can come talk to him for evaluation."

Easton shifts his legs around as Bennie climbs back out from the couch. He exhales hard at the list of screwed up things. "Yea, and I thought I was gonna go set things right. Do some good." He laughs a little too hard, a forceful bark of mocking. "Nope! And then? To top it off I nearly kill my damn self just cause the girl from the poltergeist shows up in the middle of the road. I was fuckin' useless." Even in his his altered state of mind he does very carefully choose the past tense for that statement, despite very much feeling it in the present, perpetual sense.

"Useless" The word is echoed almost involuntarily.

Byron's reaction to his Easton's talk of the past gets a bleary, questioning look. Like Easton isn't sure if he's remembering wrong or said something wrong for a moment. But he decides not to pursue it for now. There's other things to discuss.

He finally attempts sitting up, swinging his legs down in front and coming up a bit unsteady, but this time at least doesn't spill a drop of beer. His eyes open wide and then blink slowly as if he's adjusting to being vertical.

Bennie could have just gotten the glass of water and come immediately back into the living room, but she lingers in the kitchen standing in front of the sink with her head slightly bowed. As Vivian joins her, she flips aside a curtain of blonde hair and offers the doctor a bit of a feeble smile as she reaches for the card. Giving it a quick read, she realizes exactly what kind of doctor Vivian is. "Do you...do you take the insurance from the city?"

But then her attention is caught by movement from the living room that has her hurrying back in. "Babe, do you need me to help you with your..." Other leg? Please lord, don't let him try to stand without his prosthetic. In the state he's in, he just might.

Byron has not forgotten the past, but his actions and the mask that he wears may say otherwise. Sensing that Easton is attempting to rise to a stand, he steps in to drape one of the man's arms over his shoulder while his own arm reach behind Easton's back. "I got him!" He calls out to Bennie, hearing the concern in her voice.

With quieter words, he murmurs, "What you need to do is get better now. Rest up, hopefully ween yourself off of pain meds." A careful look is given the kitchen area where the women are, "And then we'll talk." He could mean about what Easton had brought up earlier, about the past. Or, he could be talking about this ghost story.

In a more conversational tone, he asks, "Are you sure there isn't something that you'd rather I get for you? You don't need to stand."

"I take all insurances..." Vivian manages to get the answer in before Bennie can go rushing back out to the living room, she hopes. Either way, she follows at a far more sedate pace. Instead of heading towards Easton and the couch, she turns her steps towards Byron, a hand settling on his elbow for a split second before she drops it. "Byron isn't wrong, though. About eating, that might help some." She gives the beer a very significant look, since somehow Easton has managed to maintain his hold on it this whole time.

And oh how those continued delusions are ignored. Well, not ignored so much as has shoved that into a box and buried it so deep in her subconcious that it'll never see the light of day. And Vivian remains blissfully unaware of the true underbelly of the town she's moved to.

The glare that Easton gives Byron as he attempts to 'help' is a thing of legend. While it's not clear if people here in town can shoot actual daggers from their eyes, from the looks of it Easton is pretty close. He growls, "I'm fine" The resentment at someone trying to help him, as vicious as it is misplaced. The fact that he was just opining his own perceived uselessness really didn't put him in a good spot to accept help, as well meaning as it was. This of course sets him up to be in no mood for the 'advice' which is of course quite sound, but now falling on deaf ears. He just clenches his jaw and tries his best to not glare and nod at the appropriate places.

Forcing his own voice to match the conversational tone, Easton puts on a tight fake smile and says, "Thanks. For checking in. And I will eat and drink water. But I think I'm good for now." It's not quite, 'you can leave' but boy is the tone behind it pretty clear.

Of course that tone from Easton wasn't meant for Bennie, and if it was, she's just happily ignoring it. She does, however, take it as a hint to help shoo the others out the door. She plunks the glass of water down on the coffee table and comes around to Easton's other side. "Thanks so much for all your help, Byron. And Viv. I appreciate you humoring me, but Easton's fine now. I think it was more my over active imagination just compounding things. I can take it from here. Keep him company and make sure he stays comfortable."

Byron doesn't need any sort empath powers to determined just how Easton is feeling right now. In truth, what he felt was needed to be said was said and perhaps that was the real reason why he got so close and personal with his offer of assistance. His own grip loosens now and he takes a slow few steps back to give the man his space. That slightly intense look returns to his gaze, but his words come out lightly, rather apologetically, "I didn't mean to overstep my boundaries, man." There's even that low raise of hands, only slightly at his sides.

When Bennie returns to do damage control, this smile returns to his own lips, those same apologetic eyes shone upon her, "It's fine. It's not like I was doing anything with my evening," Just yet, "when I got the call, but it looks like the both of you can handle things from here." There's no more open talks of ghosts and haunted houses, so that much is good for the time being. Thus, his eyes look to Vivian, though when he next speaks, it's to both Easton and Bennie, "If you do need anything though, just give us a call." With that, he waits for Glass to join him, before letting both he and the good Doctor out.

"My number is on the card." Vivian reminds Bennie, glancing at Easton, "I hope you feel better soon, Mister Marshall." She then turns to head towards the door, needing very little actual encouragement on the getting out of the apartment thing. One, lingering when unwelcome is rude outside of doing things like work. She's not working, thus, she leaves and blocks out all the delusions talk that happened.

A bit chagrined by Byron's better temperment and manners, Easton simply nods and "Yea, sorry.." very lamely. He clears his throat and says "Thank you." to both Vivian's wishes and Byron's polite offer of help. He takes another sip from his beer, which is neither water, nor helping and sets it down on the table. He looks down at his legs and just now realizes he had that whole conversation in his skivvies. Huh.

"I meant to call."

He looks over at her and all the anger is gone from his face, which has taken on a doleful tinge. His mouth opens as if he might continue, or explain or say something at least, but then it just shuts. He leans his head back against the couch and wraps and arm around her if she lets him, still not saying anything more for the moment.

Bennie's face is still etched in every flavor of concern, but her small smile is meant to reassure rather than admonish. "I know." She murmurs. The hug is accepted, even if she keeps it loose around her so she can lean forward and get another sip of water, apparently adopting it as her own rather than forcing it on him instead of his beer. "Sounds like you had one hell of a night." She says quietly, as if the situation now warrants dulcet tones. Leaning back into the couch, she rearranges herself so that she's leaning back against one of the arms of the sofa and her hands try and coax him into shift so he can lay back against her and give ample access for her hands to massage his shoulders.

Easton apparently can't really handle the concern right now, at the very least he keeps looking away. He is pretty easy to shift, as he turns sideways and rolls his shoulders slightly forward. He mhmms softly as she rubs his shoulders. "I." He swallows nothing and then tries again. "I just wanted to help that little girl. And I was so damned sure I could." He didn't even question it. He was going to go in there and do ... something. "I thought.. maybe that's why I'm here?" He is quieter now on that second admission.

"But I was just some dumb boot with a gun shooting at nothing, rushing into shit I don't understand and .." His voice gets a little tighter, not quite choked up but about as close as he gets, "And it didn't help that girl one fuckin' bit."

He's very thankful he can't actually see her, or rather she can't see his face. It makes it a little easier to admit some of this.

Bennie presses a kiss to the base of his neck, her hands continuing their slow slide over his t-shirt to find the knots beneath the roll of her thumbs. "Nothing born out of good intentions is ever truly unhelpful. You cared. You cared enough to go after that girl. You cared enough to put yourself into harm's way. You cared enough to throw yourself into a situation that I don't think anyone can truly wrap their heads around yet. So next time? You'll be better prepared. You know at least what won't work and can go from there. Even dumb boots had the benefit of basic training. You went in blind. But you went in."

And then she's giving him a sharp, rough tug on one of his ears. "But not cool making me worry."

Easton to his credit doesn't fight off her words. She's right. "You're right. I would have felt worse doing nothing." He would have felt better helping or at least not wrecking his jeep. He exhales, this one less defeated and more resigned, if a breath can have such a delineation. "Okay. No more moping. Tomorrow I'll figure out shit with the cops and insurance about the car. And I'll get a new phone." He stops himself. He realizes that he sounds a bit like the old Easton, with money to burn and make problems go away. And while that's not a bad thing per say, it's also not the life he's trying to live here. Thankfully he's distracted by a ear grab.

"Aaagh!"

He turns back to glare at her, though this time it's far more flirty. "I almost died!" Okay, he wasn't hurt that badly but he would have been in trouble had someone not called the paramedics. "Oh, which reminds me? Can you thank Nick? Nicholas? Nicky? I need to do something for him. Pretty sure he saved my ass."

Bennie is back to smiling broadly when he looks back over to glare at her, beaming with faux innocence. "Nicholas the EMT? Sure, I think I'm working with him my next shift. Maybe. Last few weeks are kind of blurring together, so I'll have to check the schedule. And if you need help running errands, I'm sure I could borrow a car for a bit from someone in Huckleberry." They tend to take care of their own around there. "I only have a few hours before the diner, and a span of time tomorrow I was going to devote to the junkyard, but."

She wraps her arms around him tighter, hugging him with a press of her knees as well. "I'm glad you didn't die. I was just getting used to having you around. Are you hurt anywhere else? I could.." Scan him. Heal him. Yet after Aidan, she's hesitant to just jump into things with her glimmer.

"Yea yea." He agrees that's who he's talking about. And he does need to do something for the guy, who literally pulled him from a burning jeep. "Aw thanks, I mean I still have the bike." He means his Harley cafe racer, that sits mostly unused in this rain soaked town. "But yea, if I need it. But babe, you got ..." He sighs, "You don't need to worry 'bout me. You need a break, and some sleep and not to worry about having to help me stand up or wipe my ass." He says as someone who literally had to endure the humiliation of people wiping his ass for a prolonged period of time. Not one of his favorite memories and certainly what he equates people trying to take care of him with.

The hug causes him to tense up and say, "Ergh" or at least something that sounds like that noise. "I'm good. Just some bruised, maybe a busted nose, but that's hardly the first time." He turns back around and says, "You don't need to. I'll be fine. Promise."

Bennie nuzzles her nose in against his neck, "I'm not taking care of you, if that's what you're thinking. I'm merely...protecting my emotional investment." She mutters, before her lips are used for a better purpose, like tasting his skin along the rim of his collar. Then, "Sorry, you're not getting rid of me that easily. Rest? Who needs rest. You could have died." She repeats, but for some reason with that laugh in her voice, it sounds far more mischievous when it's echoed back, especially now that her hands are snaking beneath his t-shirt to flatten out on those Marine bred abs of his. "I think that warrants a celebration, don't you?"

Once she starts pressing against his neck, he knows he has lost any and all standing in the conversation. He lets out a a quiet rumble of appreciation as she start kissing along his collar bone. He says, "Ah, that? I can appreciate." He laughs as she makes light of him almost dying, it's exactly what he needs to hear, his own dramatic retelling thrown back at him. He outright picks her up and lifts her onto his lap to straddle him. Yes, his ribs complain about the heavy lifting. No, he doesn't care. His own hands run up under her tank top, roughly holding her closer to him.

"I do. I really fuckin' do."