There is nothing to lose [morrison]

[Morrison Whelan]

"Meadhbh?" Reluctantly, Morrison moves toward the woman, whose back is to him. Her platinum blond hair hangs lank and damp around her head, stained pink with blood. A thin trickle of the red fluid dribbles down her neck, to her shoulder, her arm, and drips off the tips of her fingers, forming a crimson pool at her feet. The wolf is afraid to see where the source of the bleeding is, but he has to help her, has to make sure that she is safe.

“Meadhbh?” he repeats, more urgently this time, as she did not respond before. He stretches out his hand, but as soon as he touches her shoulder, she collapses back against him. He would have screamed, but he is on the verge of being sick. She is too obviously dead. The side of her neck had been slashed open, but it has been long enough ago that now a clot has formed and it stops most of the bleeding. However, this was far from the worst. Her right temple had been bashed in, creating a huge crater in the side of her head. The hit has even demolished one of her eyes, which actually was a more pleasant sight than the unharmed eye, being as it is wide, blank, and staring.

For a moment, while Meadhbh’s body is pressed against his, Morrison cannot move, yet once she slides down to the ground, he backs up a few paces, body shaking softly. There is now stale blood covering his bare chest. He wipes at it in vain, trying to get rid of it all, not wanting it to stain his skin. There is so much blood, too much blood. She is still bleeding, despite the fact that she is dead. The dead had no heartbeat, how is she still bleeding?

A soft gasp brings Morrison’s attention down to his friend’s body at his feet. Her mouth gapes, taking in difficult, shallow breaths, and her one undamaged eyes gazes up at him, distressed, anguished, accusing, hurt… The wolf can’t stand that look, can’t stand to know that he is responsible. His foot swings forward, and he before he knows it, he kicks her hard in the head, stopping her breath halfway out of her lungs. Yet, that eye is still staring, telling him that he is her murder, he has put an end to her…

Morrison’s eyes flew wide open before darting frantically around the room, while his chest heaved up and down with deep, frantic breaths. Panic tugged at the edge of his mind, even though he knew now that none of the dream had been real. Nonetheless, the nightmare had driven worse thoughts into his head than those that had already been there. Tears threatened to reveal the trauma he felt. There was no use fighting them any longer, so he let them flow down his cheeks. The crying wasn’t as bad has he had expected; he stayed quite and it helped to steady his breathing. Still, sleep would work better. A headache told him that he hadn’t gotten more than a few hours of rest and it indicated that he’d been grinding his jaw for the length of the nightmare. He should have gotten up for sleeping pills and aspirin, which would certainly have helped, but he realized that Nessa had fallen asleep on him and he didn’t want to disturb her.

Slowly, and with a sigh, he shut his eyes once more and wrapped his arms tightly around the woman’s waist. The ragdoll limpness of her body put him at ease, giving him a slight sense of control that he was missing at the moment. And it helped to quiet the tears, listening to her heartbeat, her breathing… For the next half hour or so, Morrison didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, and just held onto Nessa. The television was all but forgotten, just background noise, to block out all outside sounds. Now that the crying had stopped, the tears leaving salty trails on his skin, he could fall asleep peacefully. He didn’t even dream more the rest of the night.

[Nessarose Allens]

The sleep she encountered was strange, she could remember waking multiple times and yet she could not remember what had actually happened when she did wake. It was like a half remembered dream, something that annoyed her to the point that it would probably cause her to retell some sort of deja vu at some stage. Such was the extent of her momentary delirium.

When she finally woke properly it was to find her body much warmer than when she had drifted off to sleep. Her neck was slightly stiff as she raised it from where she'd been leaning on Morrison. His arms - even in his sleep - were wrapped tightly around her. Had she been anywhere else then this sort of contact would have had her running for the door, she didn't mind it too much, in a way it was comforting to her as well as him. Nes stretched the muscles in her leg, they didn't hurt at all, it seemed Morrison had been right about the pain eventually wearing off. The gauze would be able to come off later.

Was it today already? Time seemed to blur together in Morrison's apartment, Nes didn't even remember how long she had been here. Was it two or three days now? She couldn't remember. Nes shifted her weight slightly, making herself a little more comfortable on the couch while not waking Morrison up. She still felt a little tired, but that always happened when she slept somewhere not recommended, couches were uncomfortable to sleep on at the best of times.

Nes decided she would wait until Morrison woke before she shifted any further, he needed the sleep he could get. Besides, she couldn't really remember if she had anywhere to be, she didn't even know what day it was in this apartment.

[Morrison Whelan]

Gradually, very gradually, Morrison was pulled into wakefulness. His eyes would come half open then fall back down, still heavy with the weight of sleep, and all the while his breathing became a little faster, and his heartbeat quickened, preparing itself for activity. Eventually, he could keep his eyes open, even as groggy as the rest of him still felt. His nose was stuffy, probably from practically crying himself to sleep, and his jaw and shoulders were stiff from his clenched teeth and from holding Nessa. He noted that she wasn't limp with sleep anymore. How long had she been awake before him? It could have been as long as a few hours... That was very kind of her not to disturb him.

A yawn stretched his jaw, making it pop softly, but then it relaxed feeling better than before. He reluctantly loosened his arms from around the woman then got up; he really had to use the bathroom. Instead of going to the bathroom by guestroom, he went to the one by his own room. It was larger and brighter, cleaner. He avoided looking in the mirror while he did his thing, even when he washed his hands and splashed water into his face. He was afraid of what he might see there; unkempt hair, puffy cheeks, swollen and hurt eyes, a quivering bottom lip. The sight would only bring him self pity, which he certainly didn't need, seeing as he was having a hard enough time keeping his self image in check.

Relieved and feeling a bit more awake, Morrison went back to the living room and took a seat next to Nessa, picking up the remote and switching off the tv that neither had bothered to touch before falling asleep. He would have liked to stand, his body sore from sleeping sitting up, but his legs were a bit too weak to support him for any length of time. His mind was the only thing that felt stronger after his rest. He could think the slightest bit better and didn't worry about tears so much anymore. For a while, he suspected that he could go about his normal life until grief reared its ugly head. The nightmare was also all but forgotten. It should have had a more serious effect on him, yet for now, he could ignore it.

"When do you have to leave?" he asked huskily, looking sideways at Nessa. Morrison didn't want her to go, at least not for another day, but he couldn't keep her here against her will, not anymore. She had a life of her own and his anguish was not going to stop her from living it.

[Nessarose Allens]

Momentarily as he began to wake up, she averted her eyes so that she wouldn't see his red eyes and the bags that still lingered underneath them. Although he had slept better than she had, his sleep had also not been refreshing, it was almost as if he hadn't slept at all. God, she didn't know how to act here, she wanted to see him better, maybe not happy but certainly with the agression that she had become used to. This was not the Morrison she knew, and while she had not known him very long, she knew that this was not the Morrison that anybody else knew either. Nes almost felt bad for him, having her to comfort him instead of someone he had known longer. She didn't know what to say to make him feel better, they would have. All she could do was sit by him in silence and give him some sort of physical thing there. It wasn't much.

When he got up to walk somewhere, she took the oppurtunity to stand up and stretch, her back was slightly in pain from the awkwardness of how she slept. It was not horribly unbearable but it was a slight twinge all the same. Nes was sitting down again when Morrison walked back into the room, plonking himself down on the couch beside her and then turning off the TV. She gave him a weary half-smile, not really sure of what to do.

His voice startled her, not because she hadn't heard it before, merely because of the drained texture of it. When was she leaving? Nes pondered this for a moment, there was something in his voice that told her he was reluctant to let her leave, this time she assumed it was more because of his state as opposed to her own. Though she knew he wouldn't stop her if she tried to leave, it probably wouldn't come down to kicking a window this time. She trained her eyes to the floor, did he need her? One look told her that he couldn't be alone and Ivian - wherever he was, - couldn't help him when he was bed ridden. With a small sigh she looked back up at Morrison. "I can stay for a little longer, if it's no trouble."

[Morrison Whelan]

Morrison would have smiled if he had been able to. It would have been an absolute nightmare if he'd had to spend the rest of the day alone, not having anyone else to call up and talk with him. Most of the other people he knew that were available wouldn't understand how he felt or they would just take him out for drinks to calm him down, and he was sure alcohol wouldn't hurt, it would just make things worse, being how violent he could get while drunk. In the worst case scenario, he could kill someone. That would make him feel better only until he was sober again, until he realized that he was in jail, until he realized that he had been suspended, if not kicked out of, D.O.G.S. His life would be ruined if that came to pass, he'd probably be pushed so far as to take his own life. Damn, Nessa was a life saver, literally.

One of his hands dropped down to her knee, squeezing softly in thanks, as he couldn't really think of the right way to thank her in words. Silence followed, the human being unsure as to what to say to him, and the wolf unsure as to what would spark up light conversation, which might distract him for a while. His mind was buzzing, thinking of something to keep himself busy so that he wouldn't have another break down soon, the day seemed far too young for that. Maybe once it was late noon, he'd let himself wallow in depression, but the morning was too valuable to waste.

Finally, the wolf came up with something that would occupy him for at least a few minutes. "Let's get the gauze off your legs," he told Nessa, glancing down at her winter-boot-bandages. Patting her knee, Morrison got back to his feet, relieved to not be sitting on his sore behind anymore, and went to the small bathroom by the guest room. Nessa's clothes were still in the tubby, now underneath his bloodied shirt. He felt a twinge of regret, not having been able to wash the jeans and shirt for her, but at least they were bloody or muddy or torn, only slightly stiff from the dried rain water and wrinkled.

"Sorry, I couldn't wash your clothes," Morrison muttered, approaching the woman with her outfit in one hand and a small pair of surgical scissors in the other. The wolf sat down, once more, beside her, draping that clothes over the back of the couch, but had his body now turned, facing her. Without asking her permission, knowing that she wouldn't mind his touch, he pulled her wrapped up legs into his lap then proceeded to, carefully, cut off the gauze. His brow furrowed softly in concentration as he cut a perfectly straight line through the bandages. It was something to busy his hands with and to distract his worried brain; he was going to make it last as long as possible.

Within a couple minutes, Nessa's legs were free of their binding. The skin had healed up as nicely as he had suspected; small cuts and a bruise or two remained on her legs, and the foot that she'd kicked in the window with wasn't terrible, merely swollen and gashed along the heel, nothing that couldn't be ignored with some aspirin. "Looks good," he commented, distractedly, running a hand over her calf before dropping her legs from off his lap.

[Nessarose Allens]

She suspected that the sudden change to fixing up the gauze on her legs was as much to distract her as it was to distract him. Nes merely shrugged when she was told that her clothes were not washed, in the state she was in she thought that unwashed jeans would be the least of her problem. Matted hair, possible concussion and an emotional wolf ranked a little higher on her list at the moment. It was almost comical how cavalier she was when refering to problems that surrounded her, the thing was; she couldn't bring herself to care about her own issues when here sat Morrison with one far larger than she was capable of handling.

Face furrowed in concentration, his hands moved with expert care and ease as he slowly cut a dead straight line through the gauze on each of her legs. Her skin itched, as skin was prone to do when it was introduced to the air after a while wrapped in a bandage. She resisted the urge to scratch it, instead busying herself with watching him inspect the cuts on her leg. Nes feared that she had done more damage to the window than it had done to her, afterall, it was - thankfully - the one with the hole in its center. The bruises twinged when he ran his hand over them but otherwise there was little pain. One of her feet looked like a balloon, that was amusing, but she knew the swelling would go down quite quickly now that the gauze was off. Superficial. She wished she could say the same for Morrison.

Oddly, she had not minded his touch. Normally in such a situation she would flinch away and demand to do it herself. Was it this strange, new relationship with him that had changed the 'somewhat hostile' persona that she threw up around herself. Obviously she was still defensive - she suspected that would never go away - but there was something that had change. Something subtle, that she could not quite pin down.

"Thankyou Morrison," her sentence trailed off before it was completed and she stood up cautiously. Testing her balance and finding it satisfactory. Her legs were still itchy, but the scratching would make nothing better and so she refrained from doing so. Nes pulled on the dried jeans and sat back down, she left the jacket where it was for the moment as she was inside it was probably not needed. "Is there anything you need to do today? Anyone to see? Anywhere to go?" The question was nothing he needed to answer, it was optional, like everything else Nes was doing. Morrison would have to check on Ivian soon, such a burden was placed upon him, she wanted to help somehow but she didn't know how to ask or what to do. In the end, Nes opted for waiting for his reply to her question.

[Morrison Whelan]

"Thank you Morrison,"

The man dipped his head in response, not looking up to her as she pulled on her jeans, instead leaning forward to pick up the near empty glass on the coffee table. Despite his depression, he was going to keep a clean house, knowing too well how much a dirty living space would distress him. As soon as Nessa sat, he got to his own feet, grabbing onto the arm of the sofa to help him.

"Is there anything you need to do today? Anyone to see? Anywhere to go?"

Morrison glanced back at her, the raised hand with the scissors dropping to his hip as he paused and thought. "Yeah," he rasped before clearing his throat, "I have to make a couple phone calls, then, if you don't mind, you could help me with Iivan." With a dismissive shrug, he went to the kitchen, placed the mug in the sink. then ambled to the bathroom to put the scissors away, then back to the kitchen... It would have been easier to go the bathroom first and then the kitchen, but his mind was so frazzled that it was difficult to reason things out or think about more than one thing at the time, so it sent him moving toward wherever was currently in his head.

Hesitantly, the wolf picked up the phone. He was either going to receive hell or pity from his boss, Griffin. Neither was welcome as he couldn't really stand any sort of emotion from others toward him at the moment, though anger might be a little better, Morrison knowing was a temper he had himself and welcoming the idea of feeling something beside guilt, self pity, and a vague emptiness. Determined that he was going to sound in a better condition than he was really in, he dialed the phone. It rung once, twice...

"Hello?"

"Hello, it's Morrison Whelan," his voice was harsh and low, but he couldn't do much to strengthen it, "I was just calling to inform you that I won't be in for the next few days-"

"Yes, I got your e-mail," The man sounded as business-like as ever, trying not to let the slight annoyance in his voice show through. "I'm still expecting you to get something done at home, I know you can."

"Of course, sir," the wolf sighed, jaw clenching softly.

"Good," Griffin sounded a bit more flustered, if only he'd known what'd happened, he might have been a bit kinder. "I'm expecting you back next week."

"Sure, goodbye." Not wanting to hear anymore from his superior, he set the phone back on the receiver, before immediately picking it back up and dialing Jeena's number. The ringer was just about to cut out when she finally picked up.

"Hey, Morry," It sounded as though she had just woken up, not surprising since she had probably had a very long night.

"Hi, I know you're pretty stressed, but could you-"

"Take Iivan off your hands?" Morrison's lip twitched softly at that; he did love the way she could read people. "Of course, I can come and get him in a bit."

"You don't have to if it's too much trouble..."

"This is much harder on you than it is on me," she told him quietly, "I'll be there in half and hour."

"Thanks Jeena," the wolf muttered, then put the phone down once more.

It was a bit of a weight off his chest to have talked to Griffin and especially Jeena. Though, now he had to get Iivan ready for travel. The man had so much set up in his own room that it was a bit of hassle to move him anywhere, but it had to be done; Morrison would neglect him without meaning to in his current state. In fact, he should have tended to the cripple a few hours ago, but he'd been sleeping and Nessa hadn't known.

Moving through the living room, to Iivan's space, Morrison gestured for Nessa to follow him. He didn't check that she was walking after him, concentrating just on helping his friend. Once in the room, the wolf saw that the other was still sleeping, deeply too; the rhythm of the machine by his bed was long and slow. Trying not to wake him, Morrison went about replacing the IV bag attached to the man's arm. However, at the slightest tug on the needle in his arm, Iivan slowly opened his eyes, looking up over the bandage that hid his nose. His bleary gaze moved over to his friend, a tiny smile on his lips. The notebook was already in his hands and he was scribbling away.

May I say hi to Nessa?

Morrison looked up from the raised notebook, frowning softly, to the human. "Sure," he muttered, "Nessa, Iivan; Iivan, Nessa." His eyes drifted between each in turn and he stepped back as the cripple lifted his hand in the woman's direction, waiting for a handshake. This was quite awkward looking, but Iivan couldn't lift himself for than a few centimeters without a great effort, so it was the best that he could manage.

[Nessarose Allens]

Nes wasn't sure how to act, she knew that she would stay here now. There was no debating that now for she had made a decision. Something within Nessa snarled at going back on her word, no matter who it was given to. She watched him as he stood up, walking with an unsteady gait toward the kitchen. Pity. She could not help the pity that rose within her although she tried to hide it from reflecting upon her expression, pity was a useless emotion for it did not help anyone. Nes knew this, hell ... she felt it and yet she could still not prevent the emotion from rising within her.

"I have to make a couple phone calls, then, if you don't mind, you could help me with Iivan."

For a moment she simply watched him as he turned away, wondering if he was serious when he asked for her help with Ivian. From the moment she stepped into his apartment - she assumed - she'd not been allowed in his room, hell she didn't even know where he was. It was either a testament to how far they'd come, or a silent plea for help that made him as her her assistance. Either way, she did not question it. She had told herself; whatever he wanted today, he would have. If that meant she would help the wolf she'd seen brutally wounded, then so be it.

There was distinct hesitation as he picked up the phone, a pause before he dialled any numbers because he was wary of any consequence. His voice changed when whoever he rang answered, it became stiff and beheld a determined air that told her he did not want whoever this was to know that he was upset. The strength in his voice awed her to the extent that she could only sit there watching his back. Tension was written all over his form, hesitation in his actions. God, she felt so helpless here. How could she help a stranger? A werewolf at that? Morrison was someone who two days ago - even one day ago - she would have gladly let die. Now she was trying to help him. What sort of fucked up world was this?

From one phone call to the other, Nes never tuned out of what was happening, she was intensely foccused on his words. She had no idea what the person on the line was saying yet from his words and his expression she could tell that it was some sort of relief to him. Finally, he set the phone down and walked through the living room; he did not waste words and merely gestured for her to follow him. She did so. Although, she followed further behind than she probably should have, she was still somewhat hesitant about walking into Ivian's room.

Ivian slept when they walked in, Nes edged in behind Morrison, watching the bed where Ivian lay. Though he did not remain asleep for long, he was barely awake when he scribbled upon a notebook that remained in his hand. It was something to do with her, obvious by the way that Morrison turned around and frowned at her, as he started introductions she edged forward slightly so that she stood beside him although still behind him. It wasn't that she was frightened of Ivian, for her couldn't hurt her in the slightest, the simple fact was that she was now in a room with two werewolves. Something that was not disimilar from her past. One could kill her with a mere fingertwitch and the other could still kill her if he transformed before she was prepared.

Ivian stretched his hand out toward her, Nes saw it shaking from the sheer effort it took for that movement and she grasped his hand in a feather-light grip. Nes was being awfully careful not to hurt him anymore than he already was. "Nice to meet you," she said with a half smile, not sure on how she should be acting. After a moment their hands fell apart and she stood here awkwardly. Nes - not knowing what to say - said the first thing that came to her head. "Sorry about what happened to you at the castle." Although she couldn't say that she wouldn't have done the same had she been in that girl's position.

[Morrison Whelan]

(( Coz I know Nes is so good at following orders, I’ma just have her do what Morry says, so we don’t get a bunch of itty bitty replies. ^_^ ))

Morrison was surprised at how gentle, incredibly gentle, Nessa was merely with Iivan's hand. It was the rest of him, mostly his neck, that was injured; he could take a firm handshake, indeed he returned one, but the trembling of his arm must have made the human cautious. Morrison himself was terribly careful with his friend, just so that he wouldn’t be in anymore pain than what he had to be. Yes, he had his morphine and the like, but the other wolf wouldn’t allow him much, knowing how fast the junkie in him could jump forward and wanting him, to an extent, to be reminded of how idiotic he had been that night. This wouldn’t work to make him anymore wary toward taking on a fight, but it would keep him at home long enough that there was at least a weeks reprieve between his escapades with danger.

"Nice to meet you," Nes smiled slightly, uncomfortably, before dropping the hand back to her hip. Her eyes moved around for a moment, thinking, not sure what to say, if to say anything at all. "Sorry about what happened to you at the castle."

Iivan waved a weak, dismissive hand at this then wrote on his notebook and held it up for a brief second for Nessa to see. Morrison glanced over the woman’s shoulder, just glimpsing what it said.

Not your fault; shouldn’ta scared Morry into trying to get you out.

The wolf shook his head softly, looking away from the other man and going back to adjusting the IV drip. Content that it was dosing out the right amount of fluid at the correct rate, Morrison now moved to get the gauze out of the bedside table. It was almost empty and it would only wrap around Iivan’s head maybe twice, yet he needed at least three layers on the wound. “I’ve got to get more gauze,” he told Nessa softly, walking over to the bedroom door, “I’d like it if you took off the old bandages. Just tear off the tape and it’ll be easy to unwrap…” He didn’t have to add that she should be careful, and so on and so forth; she knew that well enough. There was the slightest bit of doubt in his mind that the human would actually do as he said. Perhaps Nessa might be afraid to see the wound that those bandages covered; certainly you could tell that there was no longer a nose there, being as the gauze was flat on the area. Yet at the same time, Morrison was sure that she had seen worse in her lifetime.

Once he had gotten back to the room, a new roll of gauze in his hand, the human had gotten the old bindings off of Iivan’s face. The injury looked slighty better today, more pink than red, no longer bleeding at all, starting to heal up… He would be into surgery in no time. Thank goodness, because he really did look very odd without a nose, and his clients and ‘employees’ wouldn’t be so impressed by someone missing a feature; they’d know that he had shown enough weakness to receive such an injury. It was good that they wouldn’t find out that the person who had done this to him had been a human. On this train of thought…

Morrison moved to the other side of the bed then picked up the notebook that Iivan used for communication and wrote to him, not wanting Nessa to know what was on his mind. She would definitely pick this up, but he really didn’t want to discuss what he was thinking with her.

You mind if I jack a bit of your supply?

Iivan took the book back to reply. What for?

Nessa; I know she’s detoxed, but she won’t stay off the stuff and I wanna know it’s safe.

Sure, but your paying me back.

Morrison nodded at this; Iivan didn’t mind a little loss monetarily, he had quite a stash, but he also knew that Morry would probably be taking quite a bit from him and he didn’t want his suppliers to get impatient when he was unable to pay them back.

Careful not to let Nessa see the notes, the wolf placed the book face down under the cripple’s hip before glancing up at the human. “Hold his head up a little,” he told her softly. With the assistance of the woman holding the wolf’s head in the air, Morrison could easier wrap the bandages around his head, so it went faster than it normally would have. “I’ve called Jeena to pick you up,” he told the other wolf while he worked, his voice suddenly growing very quite, “I’ll come over to tell you why later, if she doesn’t tell you first…” Iivan’s brow creased deeply, a frown spreading over his lips, but he didn’t reach for his book to demand an explanation; he knew that look that was slowly surfacing on his friend’s face.

[Nessarose Allens]

At the dismissive wave of his hand she smirked slightly, watching as he wrote something on the notebook before holding it up for her to read. She snorted slightly, the only thing that had scared Morrison that night was when they heard Ivian's cry, he'd been so cavalier - even callous - about everything else. As if it were merely an interferance that bored him and got in his way. The only time he'd been frightened was when it seemed highly likely that Ivian was going to die. Just like Meadhbh had, not that she was going to say any of this. It would remain in her head for as long as it took to forget. Not that she supposed forgetting would be too easy for her to do. Some things had the unpleasant tendency to stick in your mind, it was normally the memories you did not want. Nes had a fair share of those sorts of memories.

“I’ve got to get more gauze. I’d like it if you took off the old bandages. Just tear off the tape and it’ll be easy to unwrap…”

It did not take a genius to note the hesitation in his words which was perhaps mirrored by the brief hesitation in her actions. She'd seen worse before, but the fact that she had to be so careful was what made her hesitate. Regardless, as Morrison moved out of the room she edged closer to Ivian, pushing back her blood-matted hair as she did so. Giving Ivian an apologetic glance, she began to carefully unwrap the bandages on his face. Her face remained impassive as it revealed the wound, it was quite bad, though it did not bleed once the pressure of the bandage was removed, so that was a great thing.

Edging away from the bed when she was done, she watched him carefully, making sure she'd not caused him anymore pain. It seemed that she'd done the best she could, he did not seem to be in any more pain than before. Morrison strode back into the room, giving him the once over before crossing to the opposite side of the bed. Her occupation had taught her to be paranoid of correspondance that was going on around her, so when Morrison picked up the notebook, she knew that something was going on. Briefly, her eyes narrowed as she watched the short exchange although she did not comment or make a grab for the notebook. The fact that something was going on was enough to make her suspicious and she shifted her weight onto a different foot. Nothing seemed wrong, and surely she would not be attacked in a room where Morrison's injured friend was so close, and so easily harmed.

Again she was summoned to help out and she moved to the side of the bed quickly, her hand steadily holding Ivian's head upright, although it was not enough to hurt him in the slightest. She watched as Morrison unwound the bandage and fixed it around Ivian's head with a care that she had not been aware he possesed. It was really quite entrancing to see the care he took with his friend. However, this train of thought was broken by the words he spoke next. Saying that he was sending someone to pick Ivian up, saying that he would inform him as to why that was later.

Nes knew the reason, she knew it was so that Morrison would not feel guilty about neglecting Ivian. It was not this that made her heart accelerate slightly. Another was coming? Another werewolf? Was she expected to remain in the presence of three werewolves? Her eyes flicked momentarily toward the door before she forced herself to calm down. The panic leaving her expression although - as always - her eyes betrayed this panic.

It was obvious the extent of their friendship, Ivian could read Morrison's face and tone with ease and knew not to test the subject. Perhaps she would have commented on this had her mind not been focusing on Jeena and hoping to hell she was not a wolf. "How long until the bandages come off?" Her question was quick, with the right amount of curiosity to be believable and the right amount of disinterest to show that she did not intent to impose. In her head she repeated to herself that Morrison would not directly hurt her, not now. Surely?

[Morrison Whelan]

"How long until the bandages come off?"

The question sprung up too quickly to actually be one of interest; it was more to cover up something else Nessa wanted to say. Morrison turned his eyes up to her as he secured the gauze around Iivan's face, eyebrows drawing toward each other slightly. Slowly, he shifted his gaze back down to check that the bandages were in place, not wanting to dwell on the worried expression in the woman's eyes. "Should only be a week," he shrugged, dropping the extra gauze onto Iivan's lap, "but then he'll be right back in 'em; he has to get his nose reconstructed."

The cripple rolled his eyes, the tiniest smile flitting over his lips at the thought. Morrison knew how much the man prided himself in his appearance, even if were mostly for its intimidating factors; he wasn't the most handsome of men, but his heavy brow and strong jawbone exuded power and strength. With a prosthetic nose, this effect would be diminished, at least in his mind. Eventually, this wouldn't be a problem as he would either ignore this part of his persona or invent some fantastic, bad-ass story to account for the loss of his nose. The latter seemed more likely; it gave him an opportunity to boost his own self image.

Sighing, Morrison gently nudged Nessa's hand away from the other wolf's head so that he could rest comfortably back on the pillow. A similar sigh left Iivan, his sore neck relaxing back with the weight of his skull. His usually cheery, sometimes agreeable, attitude was slowly fading away, dampened by the disconnectedness of his friend. This might be a little harmful to the wolf in the state he was in, it might even retard his healing to the point where it would take two weeks instead of one to get rid of the bandages. Morrison definitely realized this, but could do nothing to lift his own spirits. Hopefully Jeena would be feeling much better than he and be able to at least feint a bit of humor.

“Hand me that wash cloth,” the wolf turned to Nessa, gesturing behind her to the bedside table.

After taking the towel from her hand, he cleaned up around the gauze, on Iivan’s chin, cheeks, and the back of his neck. It wasn’t that there was any blood that had seeped out from under the bandage, but that the binding was tight and hot, making the man sweat, and the tube in his mouth caused him to drool a bit. None of this seemed to bother him in the slightest, since he had probably gotten used to it by now. Just as Morrison was about to put the towel down, the other wolf’s hand came up and he snatched it up before it disappeared under his blanket. He reached under his thin shirt, moving the cloth over his chest, stomach, and under his arms, then dropped the towel onto the bed beside him. His body was now shaking softly with the effort it had taken to do this, and he looked no more comfortable than before, his eyes even betrayed a slight bit of annoyance. Grunting, Iivan grabbed up his notebook, flipped to a new page, then held it up by his chest.

It’s getting really hot in here

Frowning, Morrison put a hand to the cripple’s forehead. “Well, you do have a bit of a fever,” he paused and felt around his neck. “I hope you didn’t get an infection…” It was rather unlikely that it was indeed an infection. He’d been incredibly careful keeping all of his friend’s wounds clean and had kept him on antibiotics for quite a while. It was more likely that he had brought in something with him that he hadn’t realized, some sort of virus. Not that this worried him at all; Iivan was strong and willful enough to fight off a cold or flu. Just to be safe, he got up and went to the closet, to get a bottle of antibiotics and a syringe. Kneeling on the bed beside Iivan, he leaned over him to get at the IV in the crook of his arm and inject the antibiotics into his system.

Morrison got back up again to put the bottle and syringe away, before taking a seat back on the bed, running his hands through his unkempt, auburn hair. “You can leave with Jeena once she gets here,” he said softly, glancing up to Nes, “I’m sure she’d be alright dropping you off by the bridge.” He didn’t necessarily want the woman to leave so soon, but he hated keeping her here when she was obviously uncomfortable and flustered.

[Nessarose Allens]

Finally the bandaging was complete, when Morrison nudged her hand, she lowered Ivian's head back to the pillow being careful not to jostle or harm him anymore. It wasn't quite pity she felt for his pain, for she knew that he would get better. What had Morrison said? A week, then reconstruction, that was all. Perhaps the reason she pitied Morrison's pain was because it was imbedded within him, there was no conceivable or predictable end to it. It simply was, until it was not.

There was a tension in the atmosphere that had not been there earlier, perhaps it was because of the news that something was wrong, although Ivian did not know what it was. Perhaps it was because Morrison did not want to panic his friend while he was still recovering. How would Ivian take Meadhbh's death? Nes found herself hoping it would not inhibit his recovery. The thought surprised her, mainly because she did not know she cared about Ivian, did she care? It was a strange thing to accept, the same strangeness that compelled her to sit with Morrison when he first heard the news. It was something that she couldn't quite explain, perhaps she didn't even want to explain it.

It's getting really hot in here. Immediately her eyes shifted to Morrison's palm on his forehead and the red, bothered look of his face. A fever. Nes knew werewolves got recover from illness better than any human, and if Ivian could fight back from what had happened to him, then surely any fever would be childs play. Hopefully. She didn't think Morrison would be able to deal with another death.

“You can leave with Jeena once she gets here, I’m sure she’d be alright dropping you off by the bridge.”

Ah, so her moment of panic had not gone unnoticed. Although Morrison seemed unaware that it was the prospect of another arriving that Nes was uncomfortable with. A noise that could have been a laugh or a somewhat pained sigh escaped her and she looked up at him. "And what will you do?" Get drunk and hate on the world. Of course. "I'll walk home if you wan't me to go too," because there was no way she was getting in the car with a strange woman who may or may not be a werewolf. Though this woman was definately in league with Morrison. Hell, the only reason she'd got in the car with Morrison was that: a) he had the drugs, and b) he would have dragged her anyway.

Nes shifted away from the bed, swiping the cloth that Ivian had set down and replacing it from the table she'd got it from. How to explain the fact that while she didn't exactly trust Morrison, she felt safer here than even pondering the prospect at getting in the car with a stranger. If he wanted to be alone - and thus, wanted her gone - then she would comply nicely, but she would walk. "When does Jeena get here?" If she was going to leave then it would be before the newcomer arrived. As much as she was worried about what would happen to Morrison, she didn't want to be killed by a hungry werewolf. It wasn't on the top of her to-do list.

[Morrison Whelan]

The tension that was slowly growing in the air started to get to Morrison and he turned his eyes down, hand lifting behind his head to rub at his neck. And that odd, hurt sigh almost made him flinch, as if it were a knife aimed at his face. He felt that Nessa was expressing frustration toward him, even though he was trying to be nothing but helpful, and instead of reacting with anger as he usually would, he grew a little upset. It was more for the fact that he was unable to read Nes' emotions as before, and it reminded him of how badly frazzled his mind was.

"And what will you do?"

Again, the wolf found himself moving away from these word. She almost sounded accusatory, or amused, as if he couldn't take care of himself... Perhaps he couldn't so well, at least not at the moment, but he really did need to gain control of himself; life was too fast paced at the moment to be incapable of doing anything productive.

"I'll walk home if you want me to go too,"

Morrison dropped his hand from his neck, looking up at the woman finally, and took a deep breath. "I just need to be alone for a bit..." he trailed off, his throat closing up a little as his eyes started to tear. Determinedly, he cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. "But I don't think you'll be able to walk that far, not with your foot as it is. If anything, you'll make it worse." His eyes drifted onto his lap and he didn't watch after Nessa, getting up to put the cloth back. A single tears dropped from the corner of his eye and he quickly forced out another, as to not feel too cliché.

Someone's hand found its way onto his, resting the on the bed, and he almost jumped at the touch. Relaxing a bit, the wolf looked up to see that it was Iivan. Even though the cripple wasn't turned toward him, instead watching the opposite wall, he felt the man's concern, despite his lack of knowledge on the reason behind his friend's anguish. It was rather comforting to be sure he had such a close friend and it helped him to hold back the tears just a little longer.

"When does Jeena get here?"

Morrison finally looked Nessa full on. Now he understood; she was worried as to whom Jeena was, what roll she might play in his. and maybe her own, life. "10 minutes or so," he told her, eyes never leaving hers, "but you really don't have to worry about her, she's as mortal as you." He let out a very deep, resigned sigh. Nes had already set her mind on not riding with Jeena, and he knew how deeply her stubbornness ran. There was little, if nothing, he could say to convince her to take the ride instead of walking. He was just incredibly afraid that she would render her injured foot useless if she walked on it for such a long time.

"Nevermind," the wolf muttered, pulling his hand away from Iivan's and getting to his feet, "walk if you must." Frustrated and a bit disconcerted, Morrison moved over to Iivan's closet and started pulling down clothes at random, partly because he knew the wolf would need them and to give himself something to do. However, this wasn't doing anything to quell his suddenly rising emotions. Tears were running down his cheeks before long as his guard gave way and breathing deep did nothing to help, it only lent him more breath to spare on screaming later, though for now he was silent.

[Nessarose Allens]

To be perfectly honest; Nes was not aware how much her words were hurting him. She didn't mean it that way and she certainly didn't intend to keep doing it but it could not be helped, it was in her personality to defend with words, she couldn't simply turn it off whilst being unaware of it. Besides, in the momentary lapse in concentration, she'd not been foccusing on what her words were doing to him. Nes could be cruel, she was cruel without intending to be and everybody knew that her type of person never really thought twice about what they were saying.

Her eyes closed momentarily as he told her she probably wouldn't be able to walk far with her foot as it was. She knew that he was right and yet the stubborness and suspicion rose within her without her being able to control it. The cuts would open up again, the swollen foot would prevent her walking far but despite these logical conclusions, she couldn't help but feel wary of Morrison. He was afterall, of the species she hated and feared above all others.

Ten minutes. She had ten minutes to decide what she would do, although she felt bad with the road her mind had taken. Years of habit were hard to overcome, even with the briefest moments of respite, the briefest moments of friendship. Vaguely, almost for the reason that she did not want to catch Morrison's eyes, she let her own drift down to Ivian. Some of the tension in her body had drifted away when he spoke of Jeena being mortal - human, she assumed - which made her relax a little more. However, it was the accusation in Ivian's eyes that took her aback. She hadn't expected the force of it to be so ... extreme. Nes resisted the urge to step backwards and simply stood there, not understanding the annoyance - lingering on hatred, in his eyes.

Finally, she lifted her eyes to where Morrison was walking over to the closet. He told her to walk, dismissive, pained. Why pained? From across the room she could hear the soft - deliberately hushed - sobs coming from his throat and she immediately felt bad. The strange thing was, Nes never felt bad about what she did, sometimes she would regret a decision, sometimes she would reflect that perhaps she should not have said or done something. But feel bad? It was never something that crossed her mind. However, she felt her heart sink in her chest at the understanding that it had been she who caused this sudden onset of emotion. She had been careless, rude in his fragile state. God, she could kick herself.

After a quick glance to Ivian - which told her all she needed to know - she slowly, and almost hesitantly, crossed the room to where Morrison stood. Again her hand stretched out, resting on his arm with the same light touch she'd used with Ivian. "Morrison, i'm sorry, i-" she paused suddenly, disconcerted by his tears, she didn't know what to do. Nes was the worst person to comfort, she was volatile and harsh. She dealt with anger, not sorrow. "- I didn't think ..." Her voice clearly demonstrated the apology. She was thankful for everything he had done. Hell, Nes understood better than anyone how it felt to have a loved one torn from your life unfairly. She should have been more careful.

In a gesture of belated kindness, she took the clothes from his hands, bringing them to Ivian's bed and folding them in a neat pile on the end of it. "If you need help ..." The offer was left open ended, she turned to face him, taking a single step. Morrison could hate her if he wanted, but she would rather stay here until the aggressive, volatile Morrison returned. That one she could hate without feeling bad, this one .. this one she didn't want to hurt.

[Morrison Whelan]

Morrison drew his arm away at the touch of Nessa's hand. He suddenly didn't feel like being comforted and that soft touch wouldn't help. It was a wonder how fast his moods were changing lately; he almost felt bipolar. Perhaps it was the fact that he was holding a lot of his stress in by forcing himself to cry in silence. Or just maybe, he was starting to feel the slightest bit better, being able to feel a bit of anger for once. In a way, he knew that probably wasn't true, his heart felt too heavy and his throat too tight.

"Morrison, I'm sorry, I-"

The wolf blinked softly at the apology, trying to clear his eyes, and he glanced back at the human.

"- I didn't think ..."

His tears were clearing up a little, hearing the regret in her voice for what she had said. Of course she hadn't realized the effect it would have on him at the time as she wouldn't have thought about it, most people didn't, Morrison was even guilty of that most of the time. But around someone grieving, people generally trod very gently around any topic, no matter how inconsequential, and chose words very carefully. Yet in the moment that the woman had felt the slightest bit of fear, that resolve had slipped just enough to hurt the wolf in his admittedly delicate state.

Sniffling, Morrison dropped his chin down a bit in a slight nod of acceptance and appreciation of her apology. He then turned back to the closet, pulling down a few items of clothing, being more selective this time in his choosing. As he started to turn away to put the pile down, Nes took them from him and folded them neatly up on the bed. She could be so kind when she wanted to, and it impressed the wolf the slightest, knowing also how cruel she could act.

"If you need help ..."

The man merely shrugged, not because there was nothing else to do, but because he couldn't quite find his voice. Back in the closet, he grabbed up a bag for Iivan's clothes before packing it up neatly, not wanting to undo Nes' folding. After placing the bag back down on the bed, by the cripple's feet, he glanced up and frowned. His friend was staring at him with hurt an concern. Obviously he wanted to know what was troubling Morrison so much, even as sure as he was that he wouldn't be told. His eyes darted down and his hands took up his notebook, before he held it up as high as he was able.

Morrison let out a sharp, barking laugh and his face settled in a slightly uncomfortable grin. Upon the lined paper, Iivan had drawn a large smiley face, identical to the tattoo Morry had on the back of his skull. The wolf lifted a hand to the back of his head, scratchy softly at that spot and glanced down at the ground. Damn, that man knew him too well. He was feeling the worst that he had in his entire life, and Iivan was still able to make him laugh.

The smile slowly fell from Morrison's face, but the feeling of it had dried up his tears for now, thank goodness. His eyes lifted again and he shot Iivan the slightest of smiles. The man dropped his notebook then waved his hand as if to say 'It's nothing.", even though his arms were shaking with the effort of it. Turning to Nessa now, the wolf said: "Pack up everything in that side table," He gestured at the one to the right of the bed, which was mostly full with bandaging supplies.

With the woman taking care of that, Morrison moved once again to the closet, wiping the tears from his cheeks that were starting to dry up. He opened the small compartment in there that housed some medical supplies and the other sorts of supplies Iivan needed to run his 'business'. The wolf grabbed a few bottles of antibiotics and morphine then pocketed a bottle of detox and a few clear baggies of... well, he wasn't sure. He just made sure to slip them into the left side of his jeans, the side that faced away from Nessa, not wanting her to know about the drugs just yet.

Moving back to the bed, he dropped the small bottles into the bag with Iivan's clothes, before lifting his eyes to Nessa. "Jeena'll be here soon... Are you going to ride with her?" He really hoped that she would accept a ride, and his eyes clearly showed that, but in the end it would be the woman's choice.