Walter left the apartment yesterday evening, while Dan was at work. This is the first time he's been back since. He held up in a closed subway station near Arkham, after a long rough night when he wasn't sure he'd be able to make it home. He stitched himself up and slept on his coat. If he died there, at least it wouldn't link his activities to
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He peers in through the doorway.
"...Walter? Walter, jeez, you look awful..."
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"Should hire more staff instead of laying so many off. Opening themselves up to more escapes.... Hardly seems worth catching them again. Hurm"
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"Well, sit down. I'll heat you up something." He steps into the kitchen, intent on the fridge. It takes him a few seconds, tired and unsettled as he is, to process -- "Oh, man... you've got blood all over you. Are you hurt?" It's a completely different question from 'are you alright?'
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"Hmm. Not necessary. Don't mind cold." He does, however, sit. It's not that he wants Dan to serve him, he just...needs to sit now. So Dan may go through the fridge. "Already stitched the worst injury. Not all my blood, anyway."
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