sorry about the blood in your mouth, wish it was mine

[freeholding]

Who: Team Chicago (Dresden & Marcone) and friend! (Ella)
When: December 3, onward (multithread log)
Where: Tower Apartments
Summary: Harry Dresden is recovering from his injuries, and some poor souls have to deal with him.
Warnings: Mentions of past violence, recovery from injuries.


((OOC: Multiple threads in one post, check comments for kick-off.))

Comments

[forzare]

"Marcone is a neat freak." Harry supplies cheerfully, casting a look around the apartment. "By that, I mean he's all about first and second and third impressions." Were he living by himself, the place would have been decidedly messy. If anyone acted like the textbook definition of bachelor, it was Harry Dresden when he was all on his own. Thankfully, having a roommate seems to have done him some measure of good. He keeps his stuff out from underfoot, folds his own clothes and even manages to make his bed. Sort of.

His leg is starting to twinge, and he smooths a hand over the bandages irritably, as though trying to soothe a fitful animal. It's so absurd, how disconnected he is with his own body. "It sounds like a nicer faerie world than the one I'm familiar with, that's for sure." As though to emphasize his disdain for his personal dalliances with faeries, he rolls his eyes and slouches back into the couch. "I mean that you survive in Chicago. It's like a jungle."

He points to the scarring on his face, as if that'll explain everything; drops his hand into his lap and twines his fingers through each other; avoids talking about how he's feeling by putting on a deceptively bright smile and leveling a finger in Ella's direction. "So! How about you tell me about what's bugging you?" Because he gets that there's something going on, he just can't describe it - not yet.

[ella_of_frell]

Somehow, this news about Marcone being a neat freak doesn't surprise her, but Ella laughs quietly either way. Brown eyes flicking towards his hand as he brushed his bandages. "It sounds like your Chicago is pretty rough if it's that bad-" John had told her some about it, when he stopped by her apartment before.

Grimacing lightly at the sight of the scarring on his face, Ella starts to ask again about the leg, only to freeze at the question. Almost literally actually, the look on her face is vaguely remniscent of a deer in headlights.

She recovers quickly, a smile flashing across her face, "Bugging me? Nothing is bugging me." She lies. LIES LIKE A LYING LIAR. "How did you get that scar?" She shifts in the chair, in the hopes of changing the subject. And Hoping Marcone gets back soon. HALP.

[forzare]

"It's busy?" The response is a weak one. Harry is pretty fond of Chicago, and talking about it makes him feel plenty homesick and plenty worried about just how well he and John will transition when they get back (still when, never if). Things he doesn't want to think about, but the pain in his leg and the hard cough in his chest are building even as he sits there. He really ought to take his medications before it gets any worse, but that means sacrificing mental clarity.

"You twitch sometimes. It's almost a flinch," he's going to doggedly pursue that line of questioning, and shakes his head when asked about the scar. "I don't know if it's something I said or the way I said it, but if something's bothering you, you can tell me. I'm kind of insensitive at times, and I'm really trying to work on it." At least, that's what he thinks might be the problem. He doesn't know the whole of it, but he knows enough to figure out that Ella's not totally okay.

Harry waves his bandaged hand in what he hopes is a gentle way. "I'm decent at reading people," he explains, tapping just under his eyes. "I can't look 'em in the eyes, so I make do with watching all the other things. I wouldn't ever make you tell me, but - you can." Then, he concedes, just a little and winces at a particular wave of pain in his leg.

[ella_of_frell]

Ella grins, leaving off the topic of his home for now. The smile on her face twitches a touch as he points out her ...quirk, but she waves a hand gently, dismissive. "Oh that? That's... that's just a ...thing. That I do. It's ...weird, I know." But oh, OH. THAT'S what he thought -- oh bless his heart.

"It's nothing you've done," deliberately anyway, "Believe me, you've been a perfect gentleman." At least she didn't notice any insensitivity. Perceptive people were definitely her downfall, and though she hated every day she had to lie to someone's face - it was survival instinct.

Kind of odd he couldn't look someone in the eye though. Maybe he was shy? "... I appreciate that." More than he could possibly know. But she's caught sight of the wince at this point, and - even more relieved for a change in subject, she gets to her feet. "I really think I should get your pain medication now. Even if you brush that off as twitch or something, it's about that time anyway, don't you think?"

[forzare]

A thing she does, she says. And Harry, for all intents and purposes, actually fixates on her twice as hard as he previously was. All hard-eyed curiosity and a scar that pulls taunt as his lips thin. Ella isn't eager to talk about it, the way she brushes off further conversation. Defensive, in a way that is both practiced and gentle. Okay, Harry will keep this entire, awkward segment of conversation filed away - he won't force the issue. He has absolutely no reason to.

He doesn't wear a watch, but Ella's prompt has him pretending to check his wrist for the time. "I'm thinking I shouldn't fight the inevitable," he murmured, and pulled a face. Harry was so looking forwards to those painkillers and being unable to hold conversation past inappropriate laughter and slurring his thoughts together and regurgitating it like a drunkard. Good painkillers. Awful sideeffects. At least John would be returning at some point relatively soon? Poor Ella. Without scintillating conversation.

"Drug me up, Ms Nurse." He muttered, pressing a hand to his ribs gently, resisting the niggling urge to cough, because it'd hurt. "I mean - please. And I'd like to apologize in advance for the... god-awful everything that comes when they kick in. With luck, I'll just fall asleep."

[ella_of_frell]

The more he fixates on her, the more awkward she feels, glancing anywhere but at her friend, a nervously twitching finger tapping against her knee. Silently sighing with relief when he took her cue and finally agreed to the painkillers (though she inwardly cringed at the phrasing of his words), Ella hopped to her feet, quick like a bunny.

If she'd hesitated, she'd have been jerked off of her feet anyway. "Sit tight, I'll be right back. Kyra, don't let him wander off." She teased, padding away to get the medicine. Kyra was quite content to stay at Harry's side, yawning widely. Yep you're not budging mister.

Not taking too long, Ella stepped out again with a glass of water and the painkiller medication, casting an amused look at Harry for the advance apology. "Don't worry, I'll tell you all of the embarrassing details afterwards if you're not lucky. I'd hate for you ot miss out." She chuckled, "Come on Kyra, out of the way already." She nudged the wolf gently, offering the painkillers and water.