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After Lara leaves, Davin aches more than he did in her presence. Maybe whatever she was doing to him stopped working when she left, or maybe he was just distracted enough by her that his pain took a backseat. Either way, it's back now.
There's a small bit of healing potion left but he doesn't use it, not right away. He's still wary of his magic, still too familiar with how his power affected him when he was backed into a corner. He's not ready to go wielding it again, not yet.
He wants to crawl into bed and hide from the world and not think about anything, like about how he'll run the shop with half the staff and more business than ever, or how at some point he'll have to go scrub his own blood off of the floor of his office. He doesn't want to think about what he must have done to deserve this.
He's standing in the middle of his living room at kind of a loss, but he knows that he needs to make a call. He trusts Lara and her siren contact at the hospital to be discreet, but it's a small town full of big mouths. Word about what happened could be making its way around town by now.
The last thing he wants is for Mira to hear some telephone game version of events. It's funny that his first thought is to call Mira, and not his mother. She'd probably just ask him why he let him get his ass kicked. She's not going to soothe him, or mother him. She's never done that.
Davin clears his head of such thoughts and pulls out his phone, wincing as he jostles his broken finger. He pulls up his favorites and taps Mira's name, trying to figure out how to make his voice not sound like he's been gargling whiskey and broken glass by the time she answers.
[trigger warning: comments will likely include discussion of violence, injury, and homophobia]
There's a small bit of healing potion left but he doesn't use it, not right away. He's still wary of his magic, still too familiar with how his power affected him when he was backed into a corner. He's not ready to go wielding it again, not yet.
He wants to crawl into bed and hide from the world and not think about anything, like about how he'll run the shop with half the staff and more business than ever, or how at some point he'll have to go scrub his own blood off of the floor of his office. He doesn't want to think about what he must have done to deserve this.
He's standing in the middle of his living room at kind of a loss, but he knows that he needs to make a call. He trusts Lara and her siren contact at the hospital to be discreet, but it's a small town full of big mouths. Word about what happened could be making its way around town by now.
The last thing he wants is for Mira to hear some telephone game version of events. It's funny that his first thought is to call Mira, and not his mother. She'd probably just ask him why he let him get his ass kicked. She's not going to soothe him, or mother him. She's never done that.
Davin clears his head of such thoughts and pulls out his phone, wincing as he jostles his broken finger. He pulls up his favorites and taps Mira's name, trying to figure out how to make his voice not sound like he's been gargling whiskey and broken glass by the time she answers.
[trigger warning: comments will likely include discussion of violence, injury, and homophobia]