[Rhys peers blearily up at Tuck, realizing time has passed, and blinks, squinting in the sharp lights. Things start getting blurry after the back of the car, especially after the shot of painkillers, and Rhys is messed up enough to be happy to just go with it. The weight of the cast on his hand reminds him of everything, though, and he tries to move just a little, to get his bearings, before he nods slowly to indicate he's picking up what Tuck is saying.]
That mean you gonna dress up as a nurse to cheer me up? [In spite of it all, he musters a small smile. Of course there's a bunch of things they want to check for, and let Tuck know to watch for. Concussion, internal injuries, all those fun and exciting things that come with having the shit kicked out of you. Rhys's tattoos kept him from being hurt a lot worse than he is, but he's still pretty battered. And as much as he wants to protest being a houseguest...the idea of going home alone isn't particularly appealing, either. So between that and the painkillers running through his system, he just nods.]
Hey. Look...thanks, man. I mean...really. [Voice soft, eyes serious. He won't forget this.]
And have you hurt yourself all over again laughing? Naw. Think I'll save that for Halloween. Give me time to get my legs waxed. [He winks, settling back into the very uncomfortable chair provided by the hospital. Tuck knows the litany of things to watch for. Blown pupils, slurred speech, he's been around the medics at Grimm long enough to have picked up on the basics of field medicine.
And once the painkillers wear off, he's likely going to have to explain why the IT guy is good with a gun and didn't blink at killing his captors. Rhys wasn't the only one with an unconventional day job.
Reaching out, Bill squeezed his uninjured hand briefly.] You'd do the same. Now get some rest. I'm gonna go talk to Nurse Ratchet, see if she can't spring you soon.
Hey...don't go getting my hopes up too far, huh? [Rhys smirks, though it fades into a sigh with the tide of painkillers still pulling at him. But Rhys is okay with that because he trusts Tuck to handle things. Tuck came for him when he needed it, and Rhys has faith that he's safe with him. It's odd to realize, but...there it is, and he feels at ease when he lets his eyes close again. They probably do have a lot to talk about, but that can come later.
He settles back on the stiff white paper-covered bed and gives Tuck's hand a return squeeze, the best he can muster before he lets the drugs take over again and just drifts for a while. He's pretty sure he's dodged the concussion and the really bad stuff, but rest is still feeling really good right now.
He's even fuzzy enough not to bitch about "Binderhoff".]
Wouldn't dream of it, man. [Tuck falls quiet as Rhys shuts his eyes. They'll be out of there in a few hours, so he'll let him get some badly needed rest while he checks in with the unit and remotely pokes at a few programs busily chewing their way through some 'impenetrable' firewalls.
The doctor slips in while Rhys drifts, and soon Bill is tucking the checkout paperwork into his jacket along with a few prescriptions for pain medicine and antibiotics. Given the late hour, he's also sent along with a little orange bottle of pills that should get his cousin through the night until a pharmacy opens in the morning.
Smothering a yawn in his fist, he slips out to the small hospital gift shop and returns with a plastic bag full of toiletries for Rhys and a Coke for himself. Maybe he can hit a drive through on the way home..]
[Rhys dozes a little more, though he wakes long enough to badger one of the nurses about making sure that all his piercings are still in (some of them would be kind of...inconvenient to replace) and to be reassured that none of his tattoos are seriously damaged. Weird priorities, but that happens when you're in the hospital and doped out of your head. Plus, if Tuck hasn't seen Rhys with his shirt off before now? That's a lot of ink he's invested in. Besides the full tribal sleeves on both arms, his chest and back are both covered, though the designs are sharing space with some equally impressive bruises and scrapes at present.
Aside from those Very Important Questions, however, he's quiet, leaving Tuck to take care of business. And by the time the paperwork is done and he's informed that nothing but his wrist is broken and that he can be released, he's definitely ready to leave, looking battered and mournful with scrubs to replace his own bloodied, torn t-shirt. But much cleaner, at least: no more bleeding on Tuck's car seats, which he'll have to apologize for later.]
[The tattoos are impressive, and again, something pricks at the back of his mind. Like he’s seen them before, a distant memory hovering just out of reach. He’s not much of a tattoo guy himself (aversion to needles, really) so he tries not to look too long at the intricate work scrolling up each arm and across his chest and back. Nothing pings his memory like the one at the back of his neck, but Tuck has yet to nerve himself up to ask about the tattoos and what they mean to Rhys.
He leaves him at the Emergency Room entrance, swinging the car closer so he doesn’t have to navigate the dark parking lot. The car is cool and Tuck shrugs out of his coat, offering it to Rhys as he levers himself into the car.] Probably won’t fit, but it’ll keep you a little warmer until the heat kicks in.
[They’re on the highway in moments, heading back to Tuck’s house. As he drives, his eyes flick towards the mirror, watching for any headlights that might linger a tad too long.] I’ve got leftovers in the fridge and enough meds to keep you happy until tomorrow morning. You need anything else on the way home? Oh, hang on. [He retrieves Rhys’s phone from his pocket and hands it over, amusement coloring his voice.] Lady named Ellen called three times while you were sleeping. I don’t know if I should be afraid for my life or propose.
[Once the orderly escorts him to the car in the wheelchair and drops him off, Rhys accepts the coat gratefully, pulling it over his shoulders like a cloak to keep from ripping it or having to maneuver it over his new cast. Getting in the car is a slow, awkward process, and Rhys groans once he's settled, but it's a sound of relief- Going home is all aces in his book.] All I wanna do right now is collapse, so home sounds fucking fantastic to me. Long as I've got milk or toast or something to keep the meds down with, I'm easy. If you need to stop or anything, though, s'fine. You're the one that's been at the hospital with me all night.[He gives the other man a guilty smile. That, on top of however long he was searching for him. Rhys doesn't know how much that's kept him from work or anything else he needs to do, and even having been reassured, he feels a little bad about that.]
[He can't help but give a little grimace, half laugh and half wince, at the news that Ellen's been trying to reach him. He'd mentioned the last time they'd talked that he'd had a run-in with another witch operating in the area, and that alone was enough to cause concern, but her knack for knowing when 'her boys' were in trouble was still nothing short of uncanny.] Swear that woman's more psychic than I am. And she'd eat you alive, man, seriously. But she's good people. Serious Mama Bear type.[He smiles fondly for just a second, then stares at the phone as though it's going to bite, cringing.] And...hell, if I don't call her back and let her know I'm okay, she's gonna have my hide for printed lampshades when she catches up with me.
[Tuck grins in reply, shaking his head. Rhys was a friend (and he didn't have many of those). He came after friends in trouble, it was really that simple. He glances over with a wink, pulling off onto an exit] Ain't nothing, man. But I am gonna stop for something to eat on the way.
[Drivethrough takeout isn't exactly the best quality of food, but it's fast, hot and he's been looking for Rhys for three days. Time for a hot meal. As he fishes around for his wallet, he nods at the phone.] Then you'd best call her. She doesn't sound like the kind of lady I'd want to be on the bad side of.
[There were those in Sherwood that might argue that Tuck has a similar protective streak, and he orders enough for two before pulling back onto the highway.
He eats on the drive, relieved when they finally pull into his driveway and he cracks a relieved grin.] Home again, home again. C'mon. Quiet bed and a hot shower await, but I'm sure as hell not gonna carry you that far.
Go for it. And hell, her left hook's better than mine. [And Rhys is a southpaw, too. Which also makes it a small mercy that it's his right hand that's broken. Dialing the phone still isn't easy, though, especially with one eye nearly swollen shut, but it's something to do while Tuck drives, even if it takes extra effort.]
Hey. Ellen...yeah. It's Rhys. Look, I ran into some...no, I'm okay now. But I've been locked up for the past... [He looks at the cell phone's display, then blinks and swears softly when he realizes exactly how long he's been missing.] ...few days. Friend just got me out tonight. [Another pause, then, and he glances at Tuck with a small smile.] Got grabbed at a rest stop. Kicked the hell out of me, broken wrist, but m'okay...and...yeah, I know who and why. We had a nice long talk about it. While I was duct-taped to a chair. Just came from the ER and gonna be staying with a friend for a couple of days. [He rubs his brow, and winces when he touches bruises, looking tired again.] No, I'm down for at least a couple of weeks. I'm not chasing this one. I'll...of course not. I'll figure something out, but I'm not gonna worry about it right now. If it's still a problem later, then I'll work it out then, but...no, s'okay. Really.
[There's a few more reassurances that he'll call if anything else happens, and that he'll take care of his injuries, then Rhys lets his breath out in a long sigh as he hangs up. He gives Tuck a faint smile in the shadows as he fumbles to put his cell phone away, and then sags back against the seat, that necessary task done. He still has a lot of explaining to do, but...that can come later, he hopes.] Yep. We're good. Gonna get my *ass* kicked next time I visit for worrying her, but other'n that...
[Rhys isn't sure when he last ate...it's been a couple of days now, he's sure, aside from the crackers and juice in the hospital when he was waiting for the x-rays to come back. So he picks carefully at a sandwich and something cold to drink, and that earns Tuck a grateful smile. And when they get back to the house, Rhys is just as grateful at the thought of a shower and a bed.] S'okay. You more'n earned your 'Knight In Shining Armor' badge, man. [He gives a crooked smile.] Though I think about the only way you could surprise me any more is if you did throw me over your shoulder, at the rate we're going.
Rhys is gonna get the ol Harvelle one-two for worrying her.. :)dixietechDecember 26 2012, 15:53:38 UTC
[He chuckles, taking a moment to shove the rest of the food into one bag and the trash into a second.] Why do I get the feeling she's the kind of lady who'd about break your ribs in a hug before she gets to said ass kicking?
[Tuck is still laughing as he opens the passenger door and offers a hand to help Rhys out of the car.] What can I say? I like keeping people on their toes. I'll save that little gem for another day.
[The house is dark, with the exception of his desk and Tuck grimaces at the computer. He's not the only one with some explaining to do. Well, there's nothing for it. Sherwood was between jobs when he'd left in search of Rhys.]
You need a hand making it to the shower, or are you gonna call it a night? [He's beaten all to hell and back, so before Tuck even starts to touch base with the unit, he's going to get Rhys settled in for the night. Then he can get bawled out.]
Oh, he totally is. :)sleight_of_fateDecember 27 2012, 00:03:06 UTC
Oh, that too. It's an assault on multiple levels. [He grins, though. Ellen is one of his favorite people ever and it shows, the way he lights up when he talks about her.] Like I said...good people, practically family t'me. And...that's saying a lot, believe me.
[Rhys accepts the help in getting out of the car and into the house, though mostly on his own two feet, sparing Tuck the necessity of lugging him in. He's a little unsteady, and more than a little slow and stiff, but managing, and he smirks at Tuck's amusement, clearly pleased to have gotten a laugh out of him as they shamble inside.]
I could really use a shower. I'm gross. But, if you can help me get a bag over the cast, I think I can manage the rest on my own.[Not that he especially wants to go through the headache of washing his waist-length hair right now, but, yeah, clean would be good while he's still riding the good painkillers from the hospital. Once he's in bed, he's not going to want to move for a while and he knows it, so may as well get it over with.] Just a quick wash-up, s'all, then I'm definitely down for the count.
She'll at least go a little easy on him. ;)dixietechDecember 27 2012, 00:58:02 UTC
Sounds like my kinda gal.
Sure thing, man. [Tuck finds a pair of plastic grocery bags and rubber bands, fastening them securely around his cast.] Holler out if you need help, okay? I'll leave a few things out for you. [An old robe, a pair of oversized sweats and some towels.] Ain't the Ritz, but make yourself at home.
[He nods towards his desk. It's the dead of night, but he's got some catching up to do] Work awaits. Give me a shout if you need something. Coffee's on a timer, just push the button if you get up before me.
As long as he gets the hug, he'll take the punch gladly. :) sleight_of_fateDecember 27 2012, 05:52:47 UTC
[Now Rhys is trying to imagine a meeting between Tuck and Ellen, and his poor brain might be starting to smolder just a little bit. Entertaining though it might be! Rhys is the first to admit that his cohorts can be a bit...unconventional? Dedicated? Intense? Disturbing? All of the above, really.]
Doubt I'll be up before you. After this I'm done, man, and Vicodin always knocks me loopy. Means you're outta luck on pancakes this time, but I'll make it up to ya, promise. [Rhys accepts the assistance with his cast, then gives Tuck a nod and grin. He needs help with his boots, too, since heavy lace-up Doc Martens are not exactly easy to work, but after that, he shuffles into the bathroom to get himself clean without further assistance.
Which is probably good, because it's when he's finally alone again in the shower, seeing his own bruised, battered body, that the shakes hit, that horrible, cold realization that he nearly died. He might be a hunter, but he's also sane, and he doesn't get into these situations anywhere near often enough for them to become easy. For several minutes, he just leans against the tiles under the spray, willing himself to stop trembling because he's okay, dammit, he's safe, and he could have died but he didn't.
Between that and the slow process of washing, he's in there for a while, though that's to be expected given his condition and how much hair he's got. By the time he comes out again, carefully dressed and dried, long hair wrapped in a towel, he's had time to calm down, and being clean and no longer covered with dried sweat, blood, and smoke is a big improvement. He peeks out to where Tuck's working, and gives a weak smile.] Hey. Just wanted to let you know m'alright...gonna go ahead and crash. I'll see you in the morning, man.
oh she'll squish him good..dixietechDecember 27 2012, 15:35:58 UTC
[That would be a meeting worth watching, so long as the popcorn is ready for the show ahead of time. Intense, protective, with a tendency to go above and beyond when friends are concerned.
He keeps an ear on the shower as it runs. Tuck trusts Rhys to take care of himself, but he’s not going to completely relax until the water shuts off. A job, even an unofficial one, leaves him keyed up, so he might as well be productive while things run their course. He kicks his setup to life, readies the coffee and lays his gun on the dining room table. Not that he expects pursuit at this hour, but he’s fired his gun. It needs to be cleaned, oiled and reloaded and that’s before he tackles regular work. There’s a glass of bourbon at his elbow when Rhys finally surfaces and he gives him a grin in return.] Not to worry. Think I can muddle through breakfast while you’re out.
You’d have done the same.
[When Rhys finally stirs, he’ll find Tuck crashed on the couch, the DVD menu screen of ‘Evil Dead’ still flickering on the TV. ]
[Hey, entertainment factor aside, Rhys thinks that Ellen and Tuck would get along just fine. They have enough in common, there just might be a little culture shock involved, is all.]
[Rhys collapses into bed with that goodnight said, and in spite of a few wake-up jolts...strange bed, strange house, nerves still rattled...he sleeps a long time, catching up on much-needed rest after the physical and emotional toll of the past days.
When he finally wakes up with every bruise on him having had plenty of time to stiffen up, he groans, blinks, and shuffles out to the living room, still in the hospital scrub shirt from last night and the loaned sweatpants, hair falling free in a scattered mess around his shoulders. Seeing Tuck on the couch, he smiles quietly and shakes his head, finds a blanket to pull over the hacker if he doesn't already have one, and turns the TV off. A glass of milk and his meds, and Rhys retreats quietly to let his friend be.
When Tuck finally wakes up, Rhys is puttering around absently between naps, stretching out his abused muscles as best he can and just generally doing his best not to disturb him. And seeing the other man stir, then Rhys reaches over to start up the coffee.] Hey. Morning. Ish.
Ngh. [Groggily, Tuck scrubs at his face and pulls himself upright. It had been another night plagued with bizarre dreams, but at least he'd slept right through them instead of startling awake for once. He offers Rhys a bleary grin.] Morning, afternoon, whichever.
[He pushes the blanket off and stretches with a grimace before ambling towards the kitchen.] Hey. How're you feeling?
That mean you gonna dress up as a nurse to cheer me up? [In spite of it all, he musters a small smile. Of course there's a bunch of things they want to check for, and let Tuck know to watch for. Concussion, internal injuries, all those fun and exciting things that come with having the shit kicked out of you. Rhys's tattoos kept him from being hurt a lot worse than he is, but he's still pretty battered. And as much as he wants to protest being a houseguest...the idea of going home alone isn't particularly appealing, either. So between that and the painkillers running through his system, he just nods.]
Hey. Look...thanks, man. I mean...really. [Voice soft, eyes serious. He won't forget this.]
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And once the painkillers wear off, he's likely going to have to explain why the IT guy is good with a gun and didn't blink at killing his captors. Rhys wasn't the only one with an unconventional day job.
Reaching out, Bill squeezed his uninjured hand briefly.] You'd do the same. Now get some rest. I'm gonna go talk to Nurse Ratchet, see if she can't spring you soon.
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He settles back on the stiff white paper-covered bed and gives Tuck's hand a return squeeze, the best he can muster before he lets the drugs take over again and just drifts for a while. He's pretty sure he's dodged the concussion and the really bad stuff, but rest is still feeling really good right now.
He's even fuzzy enough not to bitch about "Binderhoff".]
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The doctor slips in while Rhys drifts, and soon Bill is tucking the checkout paperwork into his jacket along with a few prescriptions for pain medicine and antibiotics. Given the late hour, he's also sent along with a little orange bottle of pills that should get his cousin through the night until a pharmacy opens in the morning.
Smothering a yawn in his fist, he slips out to the small hospital gift shop and returns with a plastic bag full of toiletries for Rhys and a Coke for himself. Maybe he can hit a drive through on the way home..]
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Aside from those Very Important Questions, however, he's quiet, leaving Tuck to take care of business. And by the time the paperwork is done and he's informed that nothing but his wrist is broken and that he can be released, he's definitely ready to leave, looking battered and mournful with scrubs to replace his own bloodied, torn t-shirt. But much cleaner, at least: no more bleeding on Tuck's car seats, which he'll have to apologize for later.]
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He leaves him at the Emergency Room entrance, swinging the car closer so he doesn’t have to navigate the dark parking lot. The car is cool and Tuck shrugs out of his coat, offering it to Rhys as he levers himself into the car.] Probably won’t fit, but it’ll keep you a little warmer until the heat kicks in.
[They’re on the highway in moments, heading back to Tuck’s house. As he drives, his eyes flick towards the mirror, watching for any headlights that might linger a tad too long.] I’ve got leftovers in the fridge and enough meds to keep you happy until tomorrow morning. You need anything else on the way home? Oh, hang on. [He retrieves Rhys’s phone from his pocket and hands it over, amusement coloring his voice.] Lady named Ellen called three times while you were sleeping. I don’t know if I should be afraid for my life or propose.
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[He can't help but give a little grimace, half laugh and half wince, at the news that Ellen's been trying to reach him. He'd mentioned the last time they'd talked that he'd had a run-in with another witch operating in the area, and that alone was enough to cause concern, but her knack for knowing when 'her boys' were in trouble was still nothing short of uncanny.] Swear that woman's more psychic than I am. And she'd eat you alive, man, seriously. But she's good people. Serious Mama Bear type.[He smiles fondly for just a second, then stares at the phone as though it's going to bite, cringing.] And...hell, if I don't call her back and let her know I'm okay, she's gonna have my hide for printed lampshades when she catches up with me.
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[Drivethrough takeout isn't exactly the best quality of food, but it's fast, hot and he's been looking for Rhys for three days. Time for a hot meal. As he fishes around for his wallet, he nods at the phone.] Then you'd best call her. She doesn't sound like the kind of lady I'd want to be on the bad side of.
[There were those in Sherwood that might argue that Tuck has a similar protective streak, and he orders enough for two before pulling back onto the highway.
He eats on the drive, relieved when they finally pull into his driveway and he cracks a relieved grin.] Home again, home again. C'mon. Quiet bed and a hot shower await, but I'm sure as hell not gonna carry you that far.
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Hey. Ellen...yeah. It's Rhys. Look, I ran into some...no, I'm okay now. But I've been locked up for the past... [He looks at the cell phone's display, then blinks and swears softly when he realizes exactly how long he's been missing.] ...few days. Friend just got me out tonight. [Another pause, then, and he glances at Tuck with a small smile.] Got grabbed at a rest stop. Kicked the hell out of me, broken wrist, but m'okay...and...yeah, I know who and why. We had a nice long talk about it. While I was duct-taped to a chair. Just came from the ER and gonna be staying with a friend for a couple of days. [He rubs his brow, and winces when he touches bruises, looking tired again.] No, I'm down for at least a couple of weeks. I'm not chasing this one. I'll...of course not. I'll figure something out, but I'm not gonna worry about it right now. If it's still a problem later, then I'll work it out then, but...no, s'okay. Really.
[There's a few more reassurances that he'll call if anything else happens, and that he'll take care of his injuries, then Rhys lets his breath out in a long sigh as he hangs up. He gives Tuck a faint smile in the shadows as he fumbles to put his cell phone away, and then sags back against the seat, that necessary task done. He still has a lot of explaining to do, but...that can come later, he hopes.] Yep. We're good. Gonna get my *ass* kicked next time I visit for worrying her, but other'n that...
[Rhys isn't sure when he last ate...it's been a couple of days now, he's sure, aside from the crackers and juice in the hospital when he was waiting for the x-rays to come back. So he picks carefully at a sandwich and something cold to drink, and that earns Tuck a grateful smile. And when they get back to the house, Rhys is just as grateful at the thought of a shower and a bed.] S'okay. You more'n earned your 'Knight In Shining Armor' badge, man. [He gives a crooked smile.] Though I think about the only way you could surprise me any more is if you did throw me over your shoulder, at the rate we're going.
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[Tuck is still laughing as he opens the passenger door and offers a hand to help Rhys out of the car.] What can I say? I like keeping people on their toes. I'll save that little gem for another day.
[The house is dark, with the exception of his desk and Tuck grimaces at the computer. He's not the only one with some explaining to do. Well, there's nothing for it. Sherwood was between jobs when he'd left in search of Rhys.]
You need a hand making it to the shower, or are you gonna call it a night? [He's beaten all to hell and back, so before Tuck even starts to touch base with the unit, he's going to get Rhys settled in for the night. Then he can get bawled out.]
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[Rhys accepts the help in getting out of the car and into the house, though mostly on his own two feet, sparing Tuck the necessity of lugging him in. He's a little unsteady, and more than a little slow and stiff, but managing, and he smirks at Tuck's amusement, clearly pleased to have gotten a laugh out of him as they shamble inside.]
I could really use a shower. I'm gross. But, if you can help me get a bag over the cast, I think I can manage the rest on my own.[Not that he especially wants to go through the headache of washing his waist-length hair right now, but, yeah, clean would be good while he's still riding the good painkillers from the hospital. Once he's in bed, he's not going to want to move for a while and he knows it, so may as well get it over with.] Just a quick wash-up, s'all, then I'm definitely down for the count.
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Sure thing, man. [Tuck finds a pair of plastic grocery bags and rubber bands, fastening them securely around his cast.] Holler out if you need help, okay? I'll leave a few things out for you. [An old robe, a pair of oversized sweats and some towels.] Ain't the Ritz, but make yourself at home.
[He nods towards his desk. It's the dead of night, but he's got some catching up to do] Work awaits. Give me a shout if you need something. Coffee's on a timer, just push the button if you get up before me.
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Doubt I'll be up before you. After this I'm done, man, and Vicodin always knocks me loopy. Means you're outta luck on pancakes this time, but I'll make it up to ya, promise. [Rhys accepts the assistance with his cast, then gives Tuck a nod and grin. He needs help with his boots, too, since heavy lace-up Doc Martens are not exactly easy to work, but after that, he shuffles into the bathroom to get himself clean without further assistance.
Which is probably good, because it's when he's finally alone again in the shower, seeing his own bruised, battered body, that the shakes hit, that horrible, cold realization that he nearly died. He might be a hunter, but he's also sane, and he doesn't get into these situations anywhere near often enough for them to become easy. For several minutes, he just leans against the tiles under the spray, willing himself to stop trembling because he's okay, dammit, he's safe, and he could have died but he didn't.
Between that and the slow process of washing, he's in there for a while, though that's to be expected given his condition and how much hair he's got. By the time he comes out again, carefully dressed and dried, long hair wrapped in a towel, he's had time to calm down, and being clean and no longer covered with dried sweat, blood, and smoke is a big improvement. He peeks out to where Tuck's working, and gives a weak smile.] Hey. Just wanted to let you know m'alright...gonna go ahead and crash. I'll see you in the morning, man.
...and, thanks again.
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He keeps an ear on the shower as it runs. Tuck trusts Rhys to take care of himself, but he’s not going to completely relax until the water shuts off. A job, even an unofficial one, leaves him keyed up, so he might as well be productive while things run their course. He kicks his setup to life, readies the coffee and lays his gun on the dining room table. Not that he expects pursuit at this hour, but he’s fired his gun. It needs to be cleaned, oiled and reloaded and that’s before he tackles regular work. There’s a glass of bourbon at his elbow when Rhys finally surfaces and he gives him a grin in return.] Not to worry. Think I can muddle through breakfast while you’re out.
You’d have done the same.
[When Rhys finally stirs, he’ll find Tuck crashed on the couch, the DVD menu screen of ‘Evil Dead’ still flickering on the TV. ]
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[Rhys collapses into bed with that goodnight said, and in spite of a few wake-up jolts...strange bed, strange house, nerves still rattled...he sleeps a long time, catching up on much-needed rest after the physical and emotional toll of the past days.
When he finally wakes up with every bruise on him having had plenty of time to stiffen up, he groans, blinks, and shuffles out to the living room, still in the hospital scrub shirt from last night and the loaned sweatpants, hair falling free in a scattered mess around his shoulders. Seeing Tuck on the couch, he smiles quietly and shakes his head, finds a blanket to pull over the hacker if he doesn't already have one, and turns the TV off. A glass of milk and his meds, and Rhys retreats quietly to let his friend be.
When Tuck finally wakes up, Rhys is puttering around absently between naps, stretching out his abused muscles as best he can and just generally doing his best not to disturb him. And seeing the other man stir, then Rhys reaches over to start up the coffee.] Hey. Morning. Ish.
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[He pushes the blanket off and stretches with a grimace before ambling towards the kitchen.] Hey. How're you feeling?
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