milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

aubrey,
mal

(no subject)

Anyone watching the door would notice a stunning Roman looking man appear there. Not walk through the door into bar, just appear. He's been out of the bar for a bit, though except for the slight edge to his eyes and the stiffness to the way he holds himself he doesn't look any different.

His black silk shirt clings wetly to the right side of his body, and as he moves towards the bar it's apparent why. There's a sliver knife embedded in his back just under the shoulder-blade. One of the spots that a person can't reach one their own. His movements are stiff and slow, very much the sore human.

He sits himself at the bar, and giving the top a small stroke with his left hand, asks for vodka and received the vodka as well as a glass of blood. He gives a faint smirk and downs the blood before starting on the vodka. Give him a minute and he may notice anyone else in the bar.

[Plot locked for the moment. Say sorry.]

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Mal's just there. Always has been, always will be.

There's a hissed "Fuck," between her teeth, and she's behind him, fingers ghosting over the knife and the surrounding area.

"Oh, Aubrey."

He doesn't turn his head. It'd pull the muscles in his shoulder. Though, when her fingers ghost over the knife there's a slight shudder through the muscles, and a faint wince from the vampire at it. If she's paying attention to the knife itself, she might notice the slight magic it carries. It's the reason he's still bleeding around the knife. The slowly growing puddle of blood under the immobile right hand proof of the still bleeding part.

His voice is raw, harsh, though even through all the pain there's a faint trace of happiness that she's there. It's faint though. "Hello, lovely."

"You're an idiot."

She glares at the back of his head, lightly touching the hilt of the knife, and what little of the blade can be seen.

"Why aren't you healing?"

"Am I?"

There's a hiss at the slight movement that touching the blade causes. The witch got a good shot with this one.

"Spelled knife. Makes the vampires of my world heal human slow, and makes a killing blow actually useful against us. Very few of these knives around in the present day. Most have been lost or destroyed." The pain he's in is laced through the words, though he tries to make the words as bland as history usually sounds when taught by a teacher. And he's leaving out the part where the knife has been his for the last several years.

"You really are."

Mal sighs, then comes around to face him, leaning over and dropping a quick kiss to his lips.

"Want me to give you a hand?"

"Why is that?"

His good hand comes to stroke down her cheek, even as he gives a nip to her lower lip.

"If you would be so kind."

"Because. I say so."

She turns to Bar and requests gauze, antiseptic, and a coffee. Takes a long drink of the coffee before turning to his back.

"Ready?"

But she doesn't wait for him to say yes, just yanks out the knife and places it on a nearby stool, pressing the square of gauze to the wound.

"Of course. That always seems to be the reason with women." It's said in fairly good humor considering his condition.

Yes was on the tip of his tongue, but the knife coming out caused a dark hiss of pain and a couple strands of swear words in Greek. Original culture coming through. He's reaching for the knife with his left hand even as Mal's dealing with the wound, which is now bleeding a little heavier, due to there being nothing to block the blood flow.

"Mmm."

She applies pressure, swiping hair out of her eyes with her free hand.

"Shit. It's not going to heal, is it."

He stretches ever so slightly, a wince at the pain though he doesn't stop, and finally grabs the knife. He then leans back into her hand.

"It will eventually, I'm sure. It isn't a killing wound for a mortal. Though the shirt probably isn't helping any."

"But not vampire-speed. Damn."

She shrugs, then frowns, pressing harder.

"Look - I'm no doctor. Is there someone you know who could give me a hand? Or d'you want to head to the infirmary?"

"It's the magic if the blade. It's why she used it."

He whipes the knife off on his jeans carefully, so as not to move his right hand. Blood on a blade will stain.

He turns his head to eye the infirmary and then her. "Don't know any doctors, as I've never had a need for them while in bar. But, I don't want to go to the infirmary."

"Too. Bad."

The bleeding is slowing, but not fast enough for Mal, and the gauze is soaked through.

"Because that's where we're going. And no amount of pouting will get you out of it."

He balances the blade on his leg and using his good hand pulls her forward for a deep kiss.

"Are you sure?" Is whispered into her lips.

And her first thought is that it's really be so much easier just to give in, but...no.

Positive.

He nuzzles her cheek, giving a small purr.

I'm sure if we curled up upstairs, I'll be fine.

She pulls back, and pokes the wound with her index finger.

"Really?"

There's a low growl at the poking. He's very much not into pain at the moment.

"Low blow, the wound is still new. Eventually though, I'll be fine."

"Mmm. I don't play fair."

Hands on hips, and she glares.

"Don't care. Now are you going to take us there, or do I have to drag you?"

He stands, though it's stiff, and make the knife disappear somewhere on his person. He'll have to finish cleaning it when he has the use of his second hand.

He wraps his left hand around her waist and leans in for one more kiss before giving a small sigh. "Lead the way, love."

"Thank-you."

And she does so.

[ooc: lalalala - handwave, or thread?]

[ooc: Thread later when Sam gets on? We can have him set up the thread in the infirmary, and she can head the party (yes two is now a party) on in?

[ooc: Sure, sounds good!]

[ooc: And we continue over in the infirmary! (http://community.livejournal.com/ways_infirmary/49700.html?style=mine#comments)

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