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It's been almost two whole days.
Davin hasn't left his apartment since he got home from the hospital, and now he's staring down at his invitation to the Flynn/Cabot ball. He's not sure why he was even invited. He'd worked with Corrine when people went missing. Maybe that was it. He'd waffled back and forth about going, even though he has no place at some fancy ball. But still, it was a ball, fairytale type shit, and James had taught him how to waltz. He went and got something to wear, just in case, and it's a good thing that he didn't take the tags off. Now he can return it.
He can't really waltz with broken ribs.
There had been enough of his healing potion to take care of some of the damage. It had been brewed with minor cuts and bruises in mind, normal everyday nicks and dings that come with working in an auto shop, so he still looks pretty banged up. He'd dabbed some on his lip and the cut above his eye, removing the stitches when they healed. He uses some to mostly heal his black eye, taking away the swelling and some of the bruising. The rest goes to the cut on his side and spread along the bruising on his ribs. His face is still scraped up and bruised on one side, one finger still broken, ribs still discolored and sore. But at least now he doesn't quite look or feel like he was just released from the hospital. He just looks like he got the shit beat out of him.
He could have brewed more but that would have meant actively calling on his magic. He's still wary of it after how close he came to hurting people with it. His grandmother always tells him how incredibly powerful he is, how he came from a long line of strong witches, leaders of their clan. He never really realized how serious she was until now. He can feel the power coursing through his veins, and it feels dangerous. This will pass, he's sure, and he has a Skype date with his grandmother on Sunday. He can ask her about it then. For now, he's not using his magic, so the wounds will stay.
His date with Jameson is on Friday, and Davin knows that he has to cancel it. He can't show up looking like this. He just hopes Jameson will want to reschedule, but why would he? Thinking about it just makes him sad. He had been so, so excited for this date, even with all the obstacles it was coming with. It's been a really long time since he went on an actual date, and he likes the way he feels around Jameson, all shy and excited and hopeful. Good. Now he's pretty sure he's blown it.
All he has to do is just actually call him. He's been staring at his number in his phone, but keeps delaying hitting call. Jameson seems like the kind of guy who would actually go to the ball and he's probably getting ready to leave about now, so Davin needs to get this over with. It's a real shame. He would have loved to see Jameson all dressed up.
He sighs and sits down on the couch with a glass of whiskey and soda and a bag of cookies, preparing for a night of sulking in front of the television. After swallowing hard, he hits call and brings the phone to his ear.
Davin hasn't left his apartment since he got home from the hospital, and now he's staring down at his invitation to the Flynn/Cabot ball. He's not sure why he was even invited. He'd worked with Corrine when people went missing. Maybe that was it. He'd waffled back and forth about going, even though he has no place at some fancy ball. But still, it was a ball, fairytale type shit, and James had taught him how to waltz. He went and got something to wear, just in case, and it's a good thing that he didn't take the tags off. Now he can return it.
He can't really waltz with broken ribs.
There had been enough of his healing potion to take care of some of the damage. It had been brewed with minor cuts and bruises in mind, normal everyday nicks and dings that come with working in an auto shop, so he still looks pretty banged up. He'd dabbed some on his lip and the cut above his eye, removing the stitches when they healed. He uses some to mostly heal his black eye, taking away the swelling and some of the bruising. The rest goes to the cut on his side and spread along the bruising on his ribs. His face is still scraped up and bruised on one side, one finger still broken, ribs still discolored and sore. But at least now he doesn't quite look or feel like he was just released from the hospital. He just looks like he got the shit beat out of him.
He could have brewed more but that would have meant actively calling on his magic. He's still wary of it after how close he came to hurting people with it. His grandmother always tells him how incredibly powerful he is, how he came from a long line of strong witches, leaders of their clan. He never really realized how serious she was until now. He can feel the power coursing through his veins, and it feels dangerous. This will pass, he's sure, and he has a Skype date with his grandmother on Sunday. He can ask her about it then. For now, he's not using his magic, so the wounds will stay.
His date with Jameson is on Friday, and Davin knows that he has to cancel it. He can't show up looking like this. He just hopes Jameson will want to reschedule, but why would he? Thinking about it just makes him sad. He had been so, so excited for this date, even with all the obstacles it was coming with. It's been a really long time since he went on an actual date, and he likes the way he feels around Jameson, all shy and excited and hopeful. Good. Now he's pretty sure he's blown it.
All he has to do is just actually call him. He's been staring at his number in his phone, but keeps delaying hitting call. Jameson seems like the kind of guy who would actually go to the ball and he's probably getting ready to leave about now, so Davin needs to get this over with. It's a real shame. He would have loved to see Jameson all dressed up.
He sighs and sits down on the couch with a glass of whiskey and soda and a bag of cookies, preparing for a night of sulking in front of the television. After swallowing hard, he hits call and brings the phone to his ear.