He's in a hellish state. Rolo can't move, but it's not because he doesn't want to. He's tied up, and his whole body is weak. He can hardly keep conscious, both from the searing pain and from the blood loss he's endured, from wounds and being fucked raw and way too hard. His chest and hips have claw-marks in them, and it looks like he had been in a
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Remembering how another of his attempted rescues had backfired, the ex-SOLDIER hesitates in the doorway. He doesn't want to be attacked or seduced again. But he can't very well just walk away from someone who is hurt and upset. His honor and his heart would hurt for it. This kid obviously needed help.
Choosing to block the door with one boot, as was his usual form of entrance in this place, Angeal quietly enters the room, trying to move slowly so that the young man on the bed could see him. "Not here to hurt you. Just want to help," he murmurs, knowing his large, muscular form could seem imposing to some people.
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It didn't matter if he was there to help, he thinks. He couldn't move no matter what the man was here for. He looks away, still rather uncertain about the stranger in the room. He wants to be rescued, but he'd rather not speak at the moment. It would hurt too much.
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Poor guy. The blood was everywhere, and with the collar and chain, there was probably a good chance that the damage done had been more than just physical. Angeal hummed softly.
Introductions could wait until this person was dressed. For now, freeing him was most important. Well, freeing him and covering him from prying eyes. Carefully, Angeal flipped the red silken covers up to hide Rolo from view.
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Rolo looked down when the silk covers were used to hide the damage done to him. He appreciated that. He hated being looked at by passerby who were to afraid to come in. He didn't want him staring at his wounds, either. It would just humiliate him further.
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Normally, Angeal might have reached to brush the hair out of Rolo's eyes. But considering the situation, the larger man thought better of it. The kid was obviously upset, and avoiding eye-contact. Physical contact would probably also prove less than helpful.
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He took a deep breath, trying not to strain himself. He didn't want to force himself to speak. He hoped the man would understand.
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Opening the door a bit wider, then replacing his boot with the sheets he'd found in a nearby closet, Angeal quickly put the boot back on and came to stand again by Rolo's bedside.
Wrapping the sheets gently about Rolo, trying not to snag any of the wounds, Angeal cradled him protectively in the red sheet.
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He left the bedside for a moment to find some sheets, to prop the door open. Next on the agenda, obviously, would be cleaning Rolo off, and checking to make sure he'd be okay long-term.
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Rolo tried relaxing while on the bed. He was still watching Angeal's every move, cautious. He couldn't fight him off or yell for help, but he could be wary. He cleared his throat, looking at the door he left propped open.
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Departing for the restroom for a few moments, Angeal returned with some wet and dry towels, rubbing alcohol and bandages.
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