Post by Vidar Anfinson on Aug 16, 2013 1:15:44 GMT -5
Vidar clomp hopped through the front door of his small cottage on the Mansion grounds, followed closely by Angel. Even he had to admit he was in a great deal of pain now that the initial shock of everything had worn off. He was still feeling slightly woozy from the mild concussion he'd sustained, but considerably more lucid than a few hours ago. No doubt that was the pain from the dislocated knee and separated shoulder that had been reset along with the three cracked ribs. Luckily, sort of, all the injuries were to his left side which meant that lying on the right side was still reasonably comfortable. Of course, once he downed the vicodin he was well aware that not much else would matter.
As he clopped through the kitchen on his one crutch he found the phone and tossed it to Angel. He assumed she had to be hungry, he certainly was since he'd missed out on eating at the cookout because of all the excitement. All the same he wasn't feeling much up to cooking at the moment, he assumed that went for her as well. Likewise, he assumed she knew more about take out than he did.
"Order some takeout," he said by way of explaining the phone, then clomped from the kitchen into his bedroom, closed the door, and re-emerged a few moments later wearing a pair of black and blue, oddly appropriate, basketball shorts. Putting on a shirt with the bum shoulder was too much of a hassle at the moment. Besides that, it wasn't as if she'd never seen him without a shirt. Or vice versa.
He'd also grabbed a pair of sweat pants and one of his black wife-beater style undershirts and he passed them to Angel. Ordinarily he might have grabbed her a bit more conservative of a shirt, but his pain and concussion fogged mind told him what he grabbed was good enough. It was more shirt than he had grabbed for her last time. Not that he had minded that snafu, or that he would mind a repeat all that much, but for the sake of her modesty.
"Here, this should be more comfy for you," he said, settling himself on the couch a bit gingerly and proceeding to cap all of his taloned fingers. No need for a repeat of their first night, not that he'd found that unpleasant either since she was so soft and warm and came fully loaded with two built in pillows.
As he clopped through the kitchen on his one crutch he found the phone and tossed it to Angel. He assumed she had to be hungry, he certainly was since he'd missed out on eating at the cookout because of all the excitement. All the same he wasn't feeling much up to cooking at the moment, he assumed that went for her as well. Likewise, he assumed she knew more about take out than he did.
"Order some takeout," he said by way of explaining the phone, then clomped from the kitchen into his bedroom, closed the door, and re-emerged a few moments later wearing a pair of black and blue, oddly appropriate, basketball shorts. Putting on a shirt with the bum shoulder was too much of a hassle at the moment. Besides that, it wasn't as if she'd never seen him without a shirt. Or vice versa.
He'd also grabbed a pair of sweat pants and one of his black wife-beater style undershirts and he passed them to Angel. Ordinarily he might have grabbed her a bit more conservative of a shirt, but his pain and concussion fogged mind told him what he grabbed was good enough. It was more shirt than he had grabbed for her last time. Not that he had minded that snafu, or that he would mind a repeat all that much, but for the sake of her modesty.
"Here, this should be more comfy for you," he said, settling himself on the couch a bit gingerly and proceeding to cap all of his taloned fingers. No need for a repeat of their first night, not that he'd found that unpleasant either since she was so soft and warm and came fully loaded with two built in pillows.