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Disclaimer: I own nothing save characters not appearing in King Arthur. This story is not meant to insult, impugn the dignity of, or otherwise cause difficulty for the reader. Flames will be used to heat my house, constructive comments will be welcomed and used to improve the story.
Author's Note: Thank you for your patience. I know that I have been horribly lax in updating and I will try to do much better.
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Anywhere's Better Than Cleveland
Chapter Thirteen: Cosmopolitan
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Lorne sipped his Cosmopolitan, red eyes watching Xander. The eye-patch wearing, former construction foreman was currently hunched over a map, phone to his ear as he tried to give directions to Buffy and Giles. The green demon smacked his lips, earning a glare from Xander.
"Oh, come on, it was a joke."
Xander closed his cellphone and sighed, eyes closed as he counted to ten. Cracking open his eye again, he closed it once more and started to count to one hundred.
"Though I do think that if Blondie ever opened those blue eyes of hers, she might land herself a good chunk of England."
Xander slapped his hands over his ears, glared at the demon, and stomped out of the room.
Lorne chuckled, leaning back on the chaise he'd commandeered. "They never listen to the demon."
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Dagonet rapped his knuckles gently on Faith's door, listening to the sounds coming from her room. He had grown to like the dark-haired girl. "Faith, it is Dagonet. May I come in?"
A soft shuffling preceded the throwing of the latch and moments later, Faith stood before him, hair loose and tousled around her shoulders. "Hey, Dag. Pretty late, isn't it?"
Dagonet nodded and offered the barest of smiles. "Aye. May I come in?" he repeated.
Faith frowned, brown eyes shifting cautiously as she peered into the hallway. Nodding slightly, she stepped back and walked to the narrow bed. "Should've figured that you wouldn't take no for an answer."
Dagonet followed behind the small woman, carefully lowering himself onto the mattress. He pulled out his healing kit and laid it on the bedclothes. "I need to see the wounds."
Faith smirked. "Ah, Dag, is that fifth century foreplay?" She shook her head and sighed. "Right. Down to business." She tugged loose the robe that covered her sleeping shift. The thin wool tumbled to the ground. Turning her back on the healer, she held her breath as she slowly stripped the gown down her arms. The gown puddled around her waist, baring her torso to the healer's gaze.
Dagonet was silent for a moment. "Not all of these are new."
Faith nodded shortly.
Dagonet traced a calloused fingertip over the still red lines of her whipping. "Steel-tipped leather. Someone was very angry at you."
Faith nodded again.
Dagonet quickly set to work. He made quick work of the wounds, more than mildly surprised that the slip of a girl in front of him had taken a whipping that would have felled a toughened soldier and that she made no sound as he tended her. He knew that the salves and ointments he used stung. Finally, he wrapped her wounds with linen bandages. "Done."
Faith nodded quickly and pulled her shift up over her torso. She turned once she was covered. "You're a good man, Dagonet." She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.
Dagonet smiled and rose from the bed. "And you are a good lady, Mistress Faith."
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TBC...