Scar knew he was no longer outside. He was in a bed, a really small bed, and could feel the cold morning air on his bare chest. But it wasn't bare. It felt like someone had dressed all of his wounds. He wasn't restrained. He was probably inside. For a few moments, Scar took in everything else he could gather without opening his eyes, his breathing still slow and shallow, as if he was asleep. He could smell disinfectant, blood… probably his, and something… sweet. Feminine. It smelled like a home. Not some military prisoner's hospital.
He opened his eyes, and found his was in a crappy apartment, lying in a tiny bed. His crimson eyes swept over everything in his line of sight as he lay down, having yet to move. He stopped to study the person who had taken him in. The she, the young woman, a girl who was probably wasn't even twenty. This… is who had saved him? He glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten thirty…
The bright morning light shown through this slightly dingy window, showing the roofs of a few buildings, and happy blue morning sky. He was high up, possibly the top floor. He studied the girl a little more. Had she dragged him all the way up here? It seemed unlikely she would have the physical strength or will to pull him up so many stairs. Chances are, she had employed help of some kind. So someone else probably knew he was here. But where was that person? It made him a little nervous. He glanced and the locked door, with the little security chain that probably wouldn't stop a ten-year-old.
Glancing back at the girl, he wondered a bit. She was so tiny, curled up in an uncomfortable-looking chair, and sleeping soundly. He studied her physical make-up a little more. She might have been unusually tall, and she was definitely too thin. Once, she'd probably had an athletic build. This is what poverty did to people. He frowned. Where was the man who must have helped her drag him up here? Did she live with him? It seemed unlikely, as it was a small apartment, and had a one-person home feel to it.
He should go. He glanced around a little, searching for his shirt. It wasn't in view. With a silent sigh, he sat up, ignoring the scream of protest fm his ribs. The bed creaked a little. Scar's head jerked toward the small gasping noise, first curling and raising a fraction of an inch on instinct. She was awake. One gold, and one red eye peered at him, hidden in the shadows her hair cast around her face, the knees concealing the rest of her features. She blinked. "You're… awake."
Scar stared at her for a moment. He nodded. "You're… Ishbalin?"
The bright pair of eyes blinked. "Probably. You should rest. Your ribs are really beat up, Scar…" She stopped herself, cursing her stupidity. Why did she have to go and say his name…?
Scar froze, regarding her a little warily. "You know my name… so you know what it is I do?" She nodded. He frowned, "then why do this for me?" He glanced at the door, unable to help thinking that the military dogs would be bursting in any moment…
"I… couldn't just leave you out there on the street; wet, beaten, and bleeding like an unwanted dog…" She'd yet to move, just watching him cautiously. She wasn't sure what he'd do…
Scar regarded her carefully, "where's the man who helped you bring me up here?"
There was silence for a moment as she got over her confusing, sitting up a little more, the hair falling away from her face some, eyebrows knitted together, "what man? No one helped me bring you up here. No one else knows you're here, unless they saw me drag you up." She paused. Great. Just great. Tell the known killer that no one knows you're here with me, all alone. You could totally kill me and no one would know until my corpse started to smell, or Mr. Wolfe comes to collect my rent. Good job. Super fantastic.
Scar blinked, "… you… dragged me all the way up here." He stared at her again, glancing her up and down disbelievingly.
She pulled her knees to her chest tighter, feeling a little bit more self-conscious. "Well… yeah. I… I can do it. I'm not that weak." She paused, "It… just took me a while."
Scar blinked, silently impressed she would trouble herself to do that. He blinked again, unsure of what to do or say at this point. He'd established that she probably wasn't a threat of any sort; she seemed like she just wanted to help. "Where's my shirt."
"Oh…" She glanced down at the floor, looking at the torn shirt, and reddened a little. "Uhm, about that…" Gingerly, she picked it up, handing the main garment to him, then the torn sleeve. "It accidentally tore when I was dragging you inside… sorry. Did you, uhm, want me to repair it… or something…?" She grinned a little, nervous.
Scar looked at the girl, then the shirt, then back to the girl, then back to the blood soaked, sliced to ribbons, torn, dirt encrusted rag of a shirt he was holding. Was she serious? "Don't worry about it… I'll get another one."
The bright eyes glanced around nervously, her toes curling around the edge of the chair, her fingers laced together in front of her knees, thumbs twiddling. "Uh… So…"
Scar stared at her. He raised an eyebrow. She averted her eyes and stared at the floor, utterly intrigued by the cracks in the old floor. He glanced around a little. He wasn't good with people. He certainly wasn't good with girls. By the looks of it, she was probably the vice versa of him. Fantastic. Yet another reason he should go. Yes, go. Right now actually… "I should go." He shifted a little, grimacing as he made to stand.
A hand shot out, placing itself on the uninjured part of his chest, just below his neck. "You shouldn't-" Scar grabbed it by reflex, twisting hard. She had a slightly surprised look on her face as she lurched forward, stumbling a little, her knee digging itself into the mattress on the bed to keep herself from falling. "A-…Ah…"
Scar twitched himself away, releasing her wrist immediately, and stared at the floor, a general feeling of shame creeping up on him. "… I didn't mean…"
She retracted her hand, cradling it slightly as she pulled the sleeve over her reddened wrist. "It… it's okay." She smiled briefly, "I know. It was just a reflex. Don't worry about it. It barely hurt, anyway."
That just made Scar feel worse, hearing her bold-faced lie, seeing her tell it with such a straight, believable expression. He grunted. "I should go," he repeated, making to move toward the door.
"What?" In a flash she was there again, in front of him, arms crossed, a frown on her face. "Oh no. No way. You're injured."
Scar stared at her impassively. "I've had much worse."
She bit her lip, realizing he was right. "Well, still. You should at least stay until night. You don't even have a shirt anymore. It's broad daylight, too. I'm sure it's not a good idea for you to be wandering around. I don't know what you did last night, but I'm guessing the military is probably looking for you." She frowned a little more, crossing her arms.
Scar stared down at her, considering her words. And, strangely enough, her height. She looked to come almost exactly to his shoulder. Odd. He sighed, mulling over his logic, "… true." He glanced back down at her, "I'll stay… but I will need to go soon. It's not a good idea fro me to stay in one place for long."
She nodded in acceptance, "Of course, I just want you to stay until tonight for sure." Smiling a little, she added, "and you can stay as long as you'd like. You're safe here." She liked something about Scar, instinctually. Something about him was good; she felt it. She wanted to keep it around, whatever it was.
Scar blinked, "I… thank you." Something like a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. He glanced at the clock.
Following his gaze, she read the clock. It was close to eleven PM already? She sighed, "I have to go to work, soon." She was taking the night shift, so she doubted she would even be back until maybe nine… Luckily, Wednesday was her easy day, where she only worked a few hours, instead of her usual eleven hour days.
Scar nodded. She glanced around a little, aware of the mess her apartment was swimming in. She sighed, picking up some of the bloody trash, clearing away some of the medical supplies. "… where…?" She glanced up at Scar. He wanted to know where she worked?
She straightened up, "This little café, near the military offices…" Scar stiffened a little. Shuffling her feet, she offered a brief smile, "yeah, I know… not exactly the best place to work…" But it was better than the streets, whether it was living on them, or working on them. Stepping into the bathroom, she cleaned up quickly, throwing the waitress uniform into her bag. Glancing in the mirror, she adjusted her hair to cover her now only one red eye. Stepping out, she unlocked the door, taking off the chain. "I'll be back later tonight, feel free to do whatever you like. I've got some book somewhere around here…" With a slight smile, she opened the door and stepped out.
Only after she left did Scar realize he didn't even know her name.
