Act III - At the hospital

[black_harry]

When Harry slowly regained consciousness the first thing he did was balling his hands to a fist. It was an automatic movement, not to beat anyone, but to keep the shaking out of them. It was only after a second that he realized they weren't trembling at all

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[poison_lipstick]

After nearly a week on the things and a little coaching from folks who knew, Saffron was getting the hang of maneuvering with crutches and could actually get around pretty well on the things. That didn't make her any less eager to be rid of them, which thankfully, she would be in a couple of days.

Just then, though, her nearly-healed ankle wasn't what was on her mind as she clink-hopped her way down the compound hall to the clinic. She'd heard talk, the way all news seemed to travel on the island, and she was rutting annoyed.

"Well now," she said from the foot of Harry's bed, leaning on her crutches with one eyebrow arched. "What's this I hear about one of my best bouncers getting in a fight?"

[black_harry]

Harry wasn't feeling well. Sick wasn't the word, but tired was. The blind rage he had felt during the fight had worn off and what remained was a man knowing that his act was going to have consequences.

"What did you hear?" That he started it? That there had been no apparent reason for it? That it had been blind fury? That he hadn't stopped fighting until he got knocked out?

[poison_lipstick]

"Heard it was pretty wild," Saffron replied, maneuvering her way over to sit in the chair next to Harry's bed. The gorram crutches she leaned against the wall. "I heard you started it. Against some fellow wearing a mask looked like one of those ink blot tests."

She paused. She didn't know the other guy, and she knew Harry, which meant she was automatically on Harry's side until proven wrong. Apparently the island managed to inflict a body with a sense of loyalty after more than three years there. "I'd rather hear your side of the story."

[black_harry]

Harry's side of the story wasn't an improvement or even an elaboration on her words. "He threw the first punch," Harry retorted in a sigh. It was the truth, but it was a weak statement. The red-haired ugly bastard did throw the first punch. But if he hadn't done that, he would have ended up dead in the suffocating hands of Harry Starks.

[poison_lipstick]

That answer didn't exactly tell her much, but Saffron wasn't real surprised given that it was Harry. "I'm sure," she said dryly, and she was also sure the guy had probably thrown the first punch in order to ward off an attack from Harry.

[black_harry]

"It was stupid, I know," Harry said quietly almost. He wasn't excusing himself, but he wasn't in the mood to keep up appareance.

[poison_lipstick]

"I'm very displeased, you know," Saffron said, though her expression showed more concern than irritation. "You're one of the main reasons I know I don't have to worry about anything happening downstairs at the club."

[black_harry]

"Yeah..." Harry said, quietly, and looked to his hand and decidedly not to Helen. "It don't hurt much. I'll be up in no time." It sounded depressed, and like he didn't believe it himself.

[poison_lipstick]

"I sure hope so, honey," she replied. He wasn't meeting her eyes, and she didn't try to make him. "Have the IPD said anything to you about...repercussions, or anything?"

[black_harry]

Quite frankly, he was more worried about her repercussions than the IPD. He liked working at the club. Whatever the IPD did he would endure it. It wouldn't help, but he would surive. Just as long as there was something for him to survive for. If not, he might as well take a bullet for himself.

...If the red-haired man in the other bed didn't beat him to it

"Not yet," he said, and after a moment of thought to just ask. "...have you?" It was like years ago, before he set up his own firm, when he still had someone to call boss.

[poison_lipstick]

Saffron gave him a reproachful look, but shook her head. "No," she replied. "If it had happened in the club it might have been a different story, but I appreciate having you there so I don't have to worry."

She paused, just half a moment. "Besides, you'd never do something like that in the club. Right?" she said pointedly.

[black_harry]

Even (or especially) in the worst of his moods, Harry would have the decency to take someone away from the club before starting. That much control he always retained.

"No, never," Harry replied blankly. Hard-handed removal from the club he would do, but he'd only give educational ticks when outside. He wanted to add something, confess something even, but he was reluctant to. She was his boss in a way. Too much info could change that.

[poison_lipstick]

"Good," Saffron said, with a small smile and a decisive nod. She reached over and covered his uninjured hand with her own. "You just work on getting better, now. And if you end up needing folks to speak on your behalf, have them come get me."

[black_harry]

Better. He didn't feel like he could get better. He definitely wasn't getting better here. "I will." His worries lay elsewhere. "The cop who brought me here... she was all right. Said she'll talk to Vimes." Then another pause.

"I have to get out of here," he established.

[poison_lipstick]

"Well, I can't imagine they'd keep you terrible long," Saffron said, looking Harry over. He was injured, but nothing to severe, from the looks of him. "Want me to talk to the doctor, see about getting you released?"

[black_harry]

"Nah. Have to be a good boy and stay put 'till they decide what to do," Harry said. "Then I'll get out. Never mind what any doctor says."