draculabutbackwards

Where are you? I'll come there.

My cabin. My own cabin. Fixing this damn beanbag.

[Quick and easy, then. Adrian closes the distance in a few seconds, close as they are, knocks once to announce himself rather than ask permission, and slips into the room to move to Rags' side.]

Fixing the beanbag, to Rags, means that he's currently staring blankly at the half-finished beanbag, wondering if the stitches he made are going to stick.

So when Adrian joins him, he sets aside the little sewing kit and leans against him. "Careful of the ribs," he mutters, pulling up his shirt to show him the black and blue bruise along his side from where he fell.

"The most careful," he agrees, a bit nonsensically, as he wraps the lightest arm around Rags's shoulders and nuzzles into his hair. "Do the ribs need looking at?" Because he is entirely ready to coo over this latest tragedy until Rags feels better, but must be practical, too.

"No. Taylor's already given me the rundown on them. Nothing broken, nothing hurt. Just bruises." He closes his eyes and leans against him.

He just wants this. Wants comfort. Wants to be able to talk about what happened without feeling hideously guilty about it.

"I - was chased by Hickey as a big white bear. Then had to talk to - to Dane." And his voice is weak. "Who was kind enough to tell me that I was fucking everyone up and will just leave everyone behind and kill them, too."

He sucks in a breath. "And then - then I went to find Taylor and stripped away every piece of myself that wasn't necessary for survival."

Nothing he could say feels meaningful. That it wasn't real? It was at the time, and that hardly matters. He could certainly argue with a specter made out of hungry fear that Rags is not a death-dealing monster, but that hardly seems worth dignifying.

So he'll gladly keep his place, pulling Rags gently to him and petting his hair. "I was hoping to find--I didn't get very far. Ended up stuck with Father for what must have been most of it. Sorry."

The reaction isn't what soothes him. The act of speaking it makes it better. The act of saying it all and getting it out and hearing his own words to someone who cares is enough.

And so he smiles grimly, taking his hand. "I'm glad you weren't in it. That...fucking sucked, Adrian. All of it. I have seen a lot of shit in my life, but that was a lot."

"I doubt I'd have been any use, but I still..." He takes a quick, deep breath. "In this case I think the worry's quite justified." It's the fussy, sort of useless way of saying he feels it's his job to defend Rags.

Rags squeezes his hand. "You still what?"

"Wish I hadn't left you to it." A very Adrian way to put it, but at least he's learning. No wallowing. Visibly. "Anything you need beyond company?"

"No," he tells him. "No, I wasn't hurt, except for what you saw, and Kiryu is - he's tolling. But I needed to take a break so I'm trying to fix this fucking beanbag since Trevor's fucking dog ripped it."

Adrian huffs out a little laugh. "She's a menace, alright." He keeps his arms loosely around Rags and turns to regard the wounded beanbag as seems its due. The little plastic pellets threatening to escape are sort of fascinating.

Rags leans against him. "She appeared in my fucking room. Like someone would trust me with a dog. But it's because Trevor was in here. And then the damn thing ripped." He gestures to it.

"I tried to fix it, but maybe I should get someone with actual skills to do it."

"The two of them are a force to be reckoned with," Adrian agrees. He isn't quite sure about trusting Trevor with a dog, either. But that's clearly done. "I sew a bit if you want help."

Rags gives him a very, very sly look.

"Oh really? I didn't suspect that at all."

And he pushes the supplies towards him.

Adrian doesn't mind the sewing, or even begrudge the little victory for Rags, but he does feel playing him like that deserves some answer. He dips to pick up a few escaped fluffs of beanbag filling and sprinkles them with stone-faced deliberateness into Rags' hair. "Alright, let's see the damage..."

He reaches up to brush it out of his hair.

"Good luck," he grumbles and leans into him, deliberately trying to sabotage the work he's doing.

"This is less than fair when I can't just pick you up and toss you over my shoulder," Adrian says mildly. Stupid bruised ribs. "And likely to end with those all over your room."

"Oh no, you have to be fucking nice to me for a change," he tells him. "But if you get them on my carpet, you have to pick up every single one. Do you have fancy magic for that?"

He reaches over and plucks one missed pellet from Rags' hair, where thanks to the power of physics, it is trying to burrow. "Looks as though I could just use you to collect them. Little bastards and static electricity seem to be a match made in heaven."

"What's static electricity?" he mutters, shaking out his hair again and lowering his head. He runs his fingers through it.

"On one level, the same as the forces that turn on lights around here. Differences in the way they're charged..." He trails off. "You probably don't feel like science lectures."

"Actually, yeah. A science lecture is exactly what I want." They're playful and sarcastic, but he can't forget the real reason that he had Adrian over. He just wants to erase that for a while.

Adrian considers a moment, nods, and pulls Rags gently to him to begin a soft, slightly meandering explanation of what static electricity is. Never let it be said he doesn't understand the assignment.

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