"Jesus Christ," Saul mutters emphatically after they've covered a solid stretch of silent street. He takes another turn, winding further into town, putting more distance between them and the threat.

Jesse remains silent, listlessly staring out the windshield. He can feel and smell the bitter sweat he's covered in, a thicker trail traversing the length of his neck past his beanie, which he's almost positive is the layer of blood he can smell but is hesitant to check. He can feel it making the collar of his shirt stiff, imagines it's ruining the hoodie he's borrowed and he feels a stab of guilt. Every bob of his adam's apple makes his throat protest painfully; a sore ring around the front he has no doubt will bruise. He's still shivering, no matter how hard he wills his body to knock that shit off. His eyes slant to his left warily when Saul abruptly reaches over to direct the vents toward him. The older man drops his hand to the temperature dial and cranks it up, warm air blanketing Jesse immediately.

"Thanks," Jesse mumbles quietly.

Saul grunts in acknowledgement, features pinched in what Jesse thinks might be anger, so he quickly falls silent to avoid making it worse. He catches movement out of his peripheral when Saul digs into his jacket pocket for his phone, holding a button down for a second before lifting it to his ear.

"Drew. Sorry for calling so late. Listen, if you're not terribly busy, I need a favor. Hah, no. I've got a friend with me who could benefit from the use of your expertise and first aid kit. Yeah. Well, sorta. Alright. Be there in five." Saul pockets the phone, glancing to Jesse before returning his attention to the road. He makes another turn. "No hospitals, fine. I'm still taking you to see a GP. Andrew's a good guy; we've helped each other out of a few messes. Assuming your injuries aren't, well, extensive, we'll just pay him for his time and supplies and be on our way, alright?"

Jesse fidgets in his seat and clears his throat, wincing at the sharp pain. "I wasn't… El Caballero didn't… I mean, he tried, but I wasn't…raped," Jesse chokes on the last word. He tugs at the cuffs of his hoodie uncomfortably, pulling one sleeve over his battered knuckles. The soft sound of Saul's relieved sigh makes him relax as well. He continues a little more confidently, "I busted up his face and ran. Dunno what woulda happened if you hadn't shown up, so… Thanks."

"No thanks necessary, kid," Saul returns softly.

The next moment they're pulling into the driveway of a two story house with a grand arch over the warmly lit front stoop and doorway. Neatly trimmed hedges line the yard in lieu of a fence and a netted cherry tree stands just beside the curved walkway. The house itself is a grey stucco, accented with light blue window frames, gutters, garage and door.

Saul cuts the engine and quickly steps out. By the time his door is swinging shut, he's already on his way to Jesse's side of the car. He opens the door and makes to reach for the blond but Jesse lightly knocks his hand away, afraid that if Saul were to touch him, Jesse would give in to the urge to burrow against him and they both don't need the awkwardness.

"I'm alright. Told ya, he didn't get me." His eyes have stopped twisting the world, and his dizziness is almost completely gone. He still stands slowly, waiting for the muted vertigo to pass while Saul closes the door. They slowly make their way to the archway of the house, Saul's arm hovering as if to guide or catch Jesse.

As they pass the tree, Jesse nicks a ripe cherry with a quick swipe of his hand in between the weave of the net, tossing it into his mouth when Saul looks up to the front door that's noisily being unlocked.

When Saul looks back to Jesse, he grins fondly when he catches the blond chewing happily.

"What?"

"Nothing." His smile softens and he whispers conspiringly, "Don't let Drew catch you doing that."

Jesse spits out the pit and stem a second before the door swings open. The sweet taste on his tongue quickly turns sour when a broad, muscled man looms in the open doorway. The current useful light sources are the blub in the recess above the stoop and the light framing the man from within the house, and while Jesse's first glance clearly informs him it isn't el Caballero, that doesn't stop his cat brain from making the connection in stance and structure. His ears snap back, fear plunging him into a frozen lake that arrests his breathing and chills his bones. He crouches slightly, almost turned to run when Saul catches him by the upper arm gently.

"Jesse. Jesse, it's alright. Hey, look at me, kid."

The blond is unable to shift his gaze; unable to let the threat disappear from view. Saul steps in front of Jesse, successfully breaking his line of sight. He keeps one hand warmly wrapped around his arm and uses the other to cup Jesse's face to further angle it away from the man in the door. Jesse knows his breathing's wrong, can feel it hitching and stuttering out, puffing too harshly against Saul's chest, but he can't find a rhythm.

"You're okay, Jesse," Saul says soothingly. "I see the similarities too, but it's just Drew. Look at his hair – that lazy surfer's coif. And would you ever catch your monster wearing striped pants outside of a prison?"

Jesse peeks over Saul's shoulder, letting out a ghost of a laugh that catches in his throat. The man is dressed for bed, clearly unarmed, and hasn't moved from the stoop, giving them space.

"He's a good friend," Saul continues, boldly stroking a thumb across Jesse's cheek again, "and I'm going to be with you every step, alright? I really want him to check you over, Jesse. Please. We'll only be here for a bit, once he's patched you up, we'll leave any time you say."

Jesse nods his consent after a moment, and only realizes he's got Saul's suit jacket clutched in his fists when Saul moves to step away but can't. "S-sorry," Jesse flushes, releasing his grip. Before he can drop his hands completely, Saul catches one in his own, grasp firm and warm. Jesse doesn't know if Saul's got a hold of him to prevent him from running or if he's trying to be comforting, but it serves both purposes as they make their way up to Drew.

"Evening, gents," Drew greets casually, as though Jesse didn't just have a panic attack on his front lawn. He gestures them in, stepping aside to close the door behind them.

Now that he's closer, Jesse confirms his first assessment; this clearly isn't el Caballero. He can't believe he ever thought it, and his display earlier is now a stone of embarrassment in his gut.

Drew offers his hand in welcome with the traditional right, but that's the hand Saul's clasping. Without blinking, Drew lifts his other hand and he and Jesse shake leftie while Saul keeps hold of his right. It feels like he's caught in some Three Stooges routine. He grins slightly at Saul's laugh and Drew flashes an answering smile.

"I'm Andrew. Drew to you; it's what my friends call me."

"Jesse."

"Nice to meet you, Jesse. Saul says you need some looking over. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Got in a fight," Jesse mumbles, eyes darting to Saul in hopes the other man doesn't speak up.

Saul's expression is tight and Drew hums thoughtfully. "I can see you've got a bit of a bleed – let's get you to the bathroom, alright?"

Drew and Saul lead him to the bathroom, Saul's hand still tucked easily within his as the two men catch up casually. Jesse tunes them out as they walk the hall, passing a few rooms, some with doors closed, but the ones that are open are lit. They pass an office, and what appears to be a home gym. Jesse can't hear anyone else in the house and he gradually relaxes. There's a lingering scent of a dog, and a stray toy in the hall, but Jesse can't hear it scampering around and he looks for it curiously.

Drew catches him at it and smiles. "The Captain's outside – didn't know what kind of shape you'd be in and I didn't want him getting in the way. You can meet him later, if you want."

"The Captain?"

"Yeah, Captain Cardboard," Saul offers as Drew wets a hand towel under warm water in the sink before he settles himself on the wide ledge of the tub next to an open first aid kit. He motions to the toilet and Jesse finally breaks his hold with Saul to sit on the lid. "He's a corgi Drew found tucked into a cardboard box last spring, off I-25."

Drew carefully wipes at Jesse's face and neck with the warm cloth, tugging at Jesse's shirt collar and adjusting his hoodie to give himself room to work. "Thought it was a crate in the road; sometimes they fall off transport trucks, so I stopped to drag it to the shoulder so no one would hit it. It had been raining sporadically for a few weeks, and I figured if someone didn't see it in time, they'd be in for a nasty surprise." Drew tilts Jesse's head up toward the light for a moment, assessing the bruising on his cheek and glancing down to the angry mark around his neck. "Those crates are real rough on your car if you run 'em over. They'll mess up your alignment at the least, or if your car is real shoddy, they'll tear out your driveshaft." Drew lifts a penlight and tests it against his palm; Jesse watches the bright flash of light flick off and on with the press of Drew's thumb before he lifts it to test the contraction of his pupils and the fluidity of his eye movement. The light is excruciatingly bright. Jesse tamps down the urge to vomit while Drew makes quick work of checking his nostrils. "Turned out to be a large cardboard box with this scared, scrawny little dog inside. He didn't want me to touch him, curled up and shaking in the corner of that box, but he didn't bite me, either."

Jesse's too engaged in the story and busy blinking dots out of his eyes to realize Drew's removed his beanie and chucked it in the sink until the oppressing silence in the room registers. For a few beats, no one breathes. Jesse can feel Saul standing straight as a board in shock to his right, offering a single, audible swallow. The blond stares wide-eyed at Drew but without too much hesitation, Drew gracefully stands to check his ears; had they been human, Jesse's sure the man could have remained sitting. But as it is, the angle is wrong. Drew's touch is gentle as he manipulates the ears up from their anxious tilt to check the canal, rubbing lightly and checking the base for any bleeding before his hand eventually finds the knot on the back of his head – the true source of the bleed.

"The thought of anyone running him over without even knowing he was there made me nauseous," he continues. "So I scooped him up in my jacket and got him settled in my car. We made a pit-stop for a can of dog food from a fuel station." Drew lifts an antiseptic wipe and warns, "This might sting," before cleaning the knot and his neck, massaging his skull lightly. The touch is enough to have Jesse slowly dropping his tense shoulders.

"The Captain was so skinny that I was afraid the dog food was too little too late, but he ate it happily. I made another stop for more after that, figuring any I had left over would go to the shelter I'd drop him off at. But I didn't have time before my clinic meeting – it was the whole reason I was commuting down that interstate in the first place." Drew bins the wipe and washes his hands thoroughly. "The injury back here is going to need stitches. Face Saul for me, alright?"

Jesse spins on the toilet lid to face Saul. The man offers him a warm smile and Jesse feels himself relax just that bit more. Though everyone had been shocked at the reveal of his ears, at the very least, no one had commented, and Saul hadn't left.

"Saul, in the cabinet, there's a new razor."

Saul digs for a second and pulls the mentioned item out, handing it over to Drew.

"Cheers." He frees it from the packaging, stating, "I'm going to have to shave around the site, okay, Jesse? After this, all you'll have to worry about is keeping it clean and dry."

Drew tilts Jesse's head forward, murmuring, "I'll shave as little as possible. Keep still now."

Jesse breathes gently, conscious of every movement to try to stay as motionless as possible. Drew picks up the story again, "Once I got to the hospital, I didn't know what to do with the dog. I was already running late for my meeting, but I couldn't leave him in the car, and I was worried about letting him leave my sight anyway. So I took him with me. He never left my side, which is great because I didn't have a lead. I got a couple frowns, but service dogs are allowed in most facilities and I explained away his presence as a training exercise to begin work as a comfort companion." Drew makes quick work of the shaving, cleaning the razor several times before he's finished. Once done, he washes his hands once more. He snaps on a pair of gloves and opens a sterile needle and thread. He wipes the wound with a new wipe before he tilts Jesse's head forward again, but at the first touch of the needle, Jesse flinches and he immediately stops.

Saul's shoes step into Jesse's limited view of the tiles before the man kneels at his feet. Saul takes his hand in his again, its twin clasping his upper arm once more. "Alright?" he asks gently.

"Yeah," Jesse breathes. "Sorry."

"You're okay," Saul murmurs.

"No worries, Jesse," Drew says from behind him. "Try not to move; I'll stitch this up as fast as I can."

Jesse steels himself for the feel of the needle, grimacing at the odd tug of the thread drawing his skin closed. His ears are pinned back again, and Jesse catches Saul watching them with interest.

"After that, things were copacetic. He'd let me pet him without shaking and eventually learned that I didn't mean him any harm. He's real sweet, and I can't fathom what led him to be left in that box like he was. People can be monsters." Drew sighs heavily, but continues his narrative, "I never did get around to dropping him off at the shelter; guess I never truly had the intention to. He didn't have a name for a while because I'm not very good at that kind of stuff, so Saul named him after hearing his origin story."

Jesse grins at Saul and Saul mirrors it.

Drew continues, finally tying off and clipping the thread, "I can't imagine him not being here now, not when I can give him something better than what he came from and he gives me companionship and a reason to come home every night."

"Yeah, you were practically living at the clinic," Saul remarks with a grin. "The Captain's been good for you."

"No argument there," Drew chuckles as he applies cool antiseptic gel.

Jesse shivers at the unusual sensation and Saul squeezes his arm gently. He feels a pad of gauze being taped into place before Drew slips his gloves off.

"Alright. Keep that clean and dry; we'll remove the stitches in a couple of weeks. I'm gonna give you some pain killers and anti-inflammatory pills." Drew moves into Jesse's sight line and frowns. "Do you have any other injuries that need tending, Jesse?"

The question is weighted, but Jesse isn't lying when he says no.

"Okay," Drew nods. "The bruising around your neck and cheek will have to heal on their own. It won't be pleasant, but just take it easy. The swelling in your throat will make swallowing difficult for a bit, but you're breathing and talking, and there shouldn't be any lasting damage. I'll get you an ice pack. You've got a bit of a concussion, which is going to need monitoring. For the next twenty four hours, you'll need to be woken every two to three hours to determine your condition. Any slurred speech, confusing statements, or lack of reaction to stimuli are cause for alarm. I'd like you to stay here for a while, the night even, if you're both willing."

Jesse darts a look to Saul. The man gives him shrug in return, obviously leaving the decision up to Jesse, but the blond is tired of making choices for the night.

"I'll let you two discuss it. I'm going to let Captain in and grab those pills and an ice pack." Drew claps a hand on Saul's shoulder as he leaves, waving off Saul's thanks.

When Saul turns his attention back to Jesse, still kneeling before him, he smiles. "Well, it's up to you, kid. If you'd like to go home or a friend's house, that's fine, as long as you've got someone to check you every couple of hours."

Jesse breaks eye contact to look at his bloody beanie in the sink. There isn't anyone at the Crystal Ship to babysit him, and he doesn't want to burden Badger by showing up at his doorstep with medical instructions. He worries his lower lip between his teeth, eyes tracing the hole ripped in the back of his beanie, where he imagines the brick must have caught him enough to warrant the stitches.

"Or…" Saul shifts his weight, dropping a hand lightly on Jesse's shoulder. "Or we could stay here for a while. The night, if you'd like; Drew did offer. If you're uncomfortable here, there's always my place."

Just as Jesse turns his attention to Saul, there's the musical jangle of dog tags a second before a gold and white blur rushes into the bathroom. The dog darts around the large room for a few seconds, claws clicking on the tile and tongue lolling out in its excitement. Saul laughs at the sight and Jesse can't help joining in when the dog finally tackles the older man, yipping happily and snuffling against Saul's suit before licking a broad stripe up his face.

Saul makes a disgusted noise between laughs and pushes the dog off of him. The Captain turns to his next victim, standing on his short hind legs to place his forepaws on Jesse's knees. The dog pants up at him, tongue hanging out comically and entire rear end wagging. Jesse smiles, offering his hand tentatively for the dog to sniff. The Captain only gives it a moment's consideration before licking it and trying to heft himself up into Jesse's lap. The blond helps him up, laughing when the wriggling, warm ball of fur licks at his face.

"Maybe we can stay, for just a while?" He asks, transferring the happy dog to the tile again. A whistle from the other side of the house has the dog dashing out of the bathroom and down the hall.

"Sure, Jesse," Saul says with a fond smile. "Anything you want."