Licking Wounds
Date: Friday, September 1
Time: 3:30 p.m.
Place: Salford, Pansy's flat
Characters Involved: Perry Derrick, Pansy Parkinson, invitation only
Rating: PG-13 for language... possibly R, they get kinda... "excited" sometimes....
He was a mess.
He'd left Flint right where he lay and walked back the way he came--stiffly, albeit. His chest was killing him, as well as his hands and his right arm, though on a lesser scale. Worse was his head, which swam from the force of Flint's fist and was irritated by surface cuts and bruises. The flow of blood in his mouth had slowed, but a red stream from his lips down his chin was beginning to clot in the afternoon air.
For some reason, Perry was expecting the fight to make him feel better. He was surprised when it didn't.
But one thing was for sure... he couldn't go back to Spinner's End. Not like this, roughed up, clothes ripped and covered in grass and mud stains. The shirt was probably done for, by the way.
He considered his options, and suddenly wished he knew more people outside of the pack.
Wounded pride, indeed. He was kicking it himself as he apparated to Pansy's flat and knocked on her door.
Time: 3:30 p.m.
Place: Salford, Pansy's flat
Characters Involved: Perry Derrick, Pansy Parkinson, invitation only
Rating: PG-13 for language... possibly R, they get kinda... "excited" sometimes....
He was a mess.
He'd left Flint right where he lay and walked back the way he came--stiffly, albeit. His chest was killing him, as well as his hands and his right arm, though on a lesser scale. Worse was his head, which swam from the force of Flint's fist and was irritated by surface cuts and bruises. The flow of blood in his mouth had slowed, but a red stream from his lips down his chin was beginning to clot in the afternoon air.
For some reason, Perry was expecting the fight to make him feel better. He was surprised when it didn't.
But one thing was for sure... he couldn't go back to Spinner's End. Not like this, roughed up, clothes ripped and covered in grass and mud stains. The shirt was probably done for, by the way.
He considered his options, and suddenly wished he knew more people outside of the pack.
Wounded pride, indeed. He was kicking it himself as he apparated to Pansy's flat and knocked on her door.