'Get Well' Gift Cardless [semi-open]

The young man had to force the bleariness out of his eyes, blinking once, twice, and again - but his vision had refused to clear up completely. He could barely make out the world around him. The white walls, the bland furniture, the afternoon light that poured in through the old glass windows, they all blended together and it made it hard for them to tell apart unless he concentrated enough. Up close, things were easier to see. There was the soft cotton blanket draped over him. There were bands of bandages over his torso and across his shoulders, and down over his hand, just below where the IV was slipped into his forearm.

He groaned, feeling light-headed and exhausted, as if he'd woke up from a month's sleep. "Fucking... shit." Preston had tried to sit up. A searing pain halted him, shooting through his shoulders and down a deep cut across gash across his chest. He came to realize the stiff, burning in his leg, and the thick cast that wrapped around his foot. He couldn't move his good hand. Each finger and toe was wrapped, but they felt like jelly, and hot and cold all the same.

And shit, he was starving.

As he lay there, he did his best to recall what exactly had happened to him. Through the haze of weariness and pain-killers, it slowly came back to him. The store and the snowstorm. The jackass in black who'd cornered lunged after him and that mute girl. He'd gotten torn a new one, but the bastard had still run away and left them alone. He remembered seeing plenty of red and thinking how freezing it was before everything had went black.

His gaze cast aside to the stand by the bed. His torn clothes laid wrapped in plastic, his shoes ruined, and leaning aside it all was one over-sized toothpick, black, mangled, and broken. Preston supposed he should consider it a trophy. "God damned furry." He hissed through his teeth.

The door creaked open.

Of course something like this would happen to him. With the way he went around breaking hearts, it was inevitable that someone would give him what was coming to him, but even though he was alive and probably wouldn't suffer any permanent damage. she couldn't feel any satisfaction. It was just pitiful, seeing him like that, and when he'd got dragged into the infirmary... Well, it was easy to forget all the little annoyances when it looked like he'd just gotten mauled by a paper shredder. She wasn't squeamish at all, but she would've been lying to herself if she'd said she hadn't panicked.

Honestly...

She'd threatened to beat the shit out of him a million times, but she hadn't meant it half the time.

How did he get in a mess like this?

Kayla was peering out from the door frame, watching him as he started to stir and mutter to himself. Finally... If he was out any longer, she probably would've bounced out to the lake by now. She hated being in this place when she didn't have to be. Fucking inconsiderate, getting sliced up like that. With a sigh, electricity fluxing around her hands to announce her presence, she stepped inside, a convenience store bag swinging around in her palm. "You're awake," she murmured dryly, eyes wandering over the bandages with a frown. She set the bag down on the stand next to his cot and took a seat by the side of his bed, half a pained grin on her face. "You look like shit."

Even if it made her sick to see him that beat up, it did give her an ounce of gratification to shoot that right back at him. Did this mean she was the butler now?

She rifled through the bag and pulled out a small sandwich double-wrapped in cellophane. "Want it?"

It was like some weird ass sixth sense. One the sparks suddenly went off in the door way, his eyes immediately shot over to the source. A smile cracked at the edge of his lips. Of course it would be her. She worked here, didn't she? The girl had complained about it enough. "Long as I got my pretty face, I'll be alright," He muttered. The Autumn squirmed around in his bed, trying to get comfortable, and narrowing his eyes in to try to focus. "Aren't you supposed to be in uniform? The tight blouse? Short, white skirt? Little hat with the cross?" What the fuck kinda establishment were they running here?

Preston paused, watching her ruffle through the grocery bag and pulling out a sandwich. For a bit, he stared at it, thinking it looked somewhat old and dry. Probably flakey. But in the state he was in, it still looked nothing short of heaven. "God, yes!" He exclaimed, reaching out with his better arm a little too quickly and wincing at the sudden pain that followed. Still worth it.

He would say something like that. She rolled her eyes, giving off a huff. Was it even worth responding? Where did he get that idea from, a Halloween magazine? "Shut it." If they did have a uniform, she'd be dead before they stuffed her in one. Still, if he was cracking jokes, then that was a good sign, considering the condition he was in. There was the barest hint of a smile at his excitement, but it faded at the all-too-obvious flinch of pain. It was getting too easy to relate to that kind of reaction, after all this.

Kayla pressed the sandwich gently into his hand. "Don't get too excited." She retracted her hand and let it fall into her lap, her eyes wandering over the bandages, and to the charred weapon leaning against the wall. "Looks like someone did a number on you," she murmured a little quieter. The smirk returned, for just a moment. "Did you fall down the stairs?"

No matter how painful or shitty his wounds were, he found himself forcing a small grin on anyways, if nothing else than for his own sake. He was sore and tired and it burned like hell everytime he took even the shallower breath, but fuck, he was still alive. And in moment, he at least had a little company, and a God-sent gas station-tier sandwich.

Preston front, shifting around and bringing the sandwich slowly towards his face. He couldn't peel off the plastic wrap with the bandages around his fingers and instead started to bite at with his teeth, trying to tear it away. He didn't care for manner then, not with his stomach. It's not like Kayla cared much about class anyways.

The Autumn spit a bit of the clear tear out, raising his eyebrow and scoffing. "Fell? Fuck no." He said shooting a glance out the window. The snow was still piled up outside. "Was walking some chick home from Rosebury. The weather turned to shit so we took cover in some alleyway. This crazy bastard appeared out of nowhere and came after us." The way the bitch first spoke, it was as if he were waiting for someone to come along, like a total freak. "But I chased him off... obviously." He looked indignant.

It was a little sad seeing him bite away at the plastic like that. You're not a dog. Not that much of a dog, at least. Kayla reached over as he tore away a strip of plastic and gingerly picked away at the rest of the cellophane, at least enough so he could get a bite without eating the wrapper too. At the very least, he better damn well be able to eat it. She didn't go out of her way to convenience him that often.

Stupid. It'd just been a dumb joke, but his actual explanation made her pause, a hint of doubt creeping in the back of her mind. Just some crazy bastard, huh...? Well, she couldn't be paranoid over it... This place was full of crazy bastards. For all she knew, he'd left out some stupid detail, like he was macking on someone's girlfriend in an alley and got caught. Or maybe, it was something more. Just maybe. She didn't want to believe that, though. For a heartbeat, all she could think was an envelope and red ink.

Kayla leaned back in her chair with a snort, crossing her arms. "What the hell happened, then?" she probed, eyes wandering to the cast around his foot. "Are you trying to tell me some random guy just showed up, beat the shit out of you, and left?" It definitely didn't look like he'd come out on top. Beata had some shifty people, but the place was secure, more or less. It wasn't like you could mug anyone in a town that size without causing a scene. Besides, Preston could hold his own. "Why?"

The young man watched quietly as she reached over and pulled a good part of the wrap away, almost completely missing what she'd said. He had food now. Nothing else mattered in the world. He dug a bit into the sandwich. It was as warm and bland as he'd suspected, but for it was close to God sent all the same.

"Did not beat the crap out of me!" He insisted a little too quickly, hastily swallowing his food. Preston held back a sigh, shooting a glance at the ugly sword at his bedside. "Because he wanted to? I don't fucking know. He was batshit crazy." He figured then he shouldn't have been saying anything, but he had to tell someone. The look in the guy's eyes, he'd never seen anything like that before... It was insane. "He said it'd be fun killing us." For a moment, his thoughts rested on the girl he'd been walking with. She'd come out of it alright, didn't she?

Kayla couldn't help but roll her eyes. Yeah, alright, whatever he said. Obviously, it'd just been a friendly tickle fight, judging from the fact that he looked like he'd just gotten dragged out of a pyramid sepulcher. Unless that guy was in the cot right next to him or fried into charcoal, she was pretty sure it was safe to call the match for his mystery attacker.

"That's too crazy," she muttered back with a tinge of skepticism in her tone, but if she was being honest, it wasn't that hard to believe. Fun killing him? Hell, like she could talk. She'd met more than her fair share of bloodthirsty lunatics since she'd come to this school. With how eccentric even normal-looking people could be, she was starting to think that gifted DNA knocked a few screws loose. That was the trade-off you got from being born a demigod. Was this place a school, or a mental asylum? It already felt like this place was a circus half the time. Freaks, carnies, beasts.

She shifted uneasily in her chair, crossing her legs. "Well, then what the hell? Who was he?" Could a student have gotten off that easily? In her head, she was scratching names off her mental checklist, trying to narrow culprits down. How many guys in this school, honestly, could jump Preston and whoever he was with and slip off without getting caught? And in the center of Rosebury...?

Something about this story didn't fit, but she was scared to jump to the answer lingering in the back of her mind.

No, that couldn't be it.

Between the eyeroll and the hint of doubt voice, he was left uncertain whether or not she actually believed him. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Insulted? Betrayed, somewhat? It was too tiring to put much thought into so he brushed it out of his mind, staring up at her again.

His green eyes narrowed in frustration. "He was too old to go here. Never even seen him before." Preston paused. If they had been a guardian or some asshole living in the small town, he had to have been a top-class idiot to think he could get away with his weird ass violent fetish. "Some gothic furry. Was in all black and in a coat, you know, like Neo from -" He hesitated again. Would she even get that reference?

"Douchebag to the max..." Pres muttered bitterly.

That confirmed all her fears. They were all the words she didn't want to hear. He said them so casually too, in the joking, nerdy way he always talked, but he didn't know just how much it chilled her blood to hear that. It was stupid in a way, really. Who got so worked up over an emo furry? But all the pieces fell together, and she could feel all those old emotions wake back up and crawl up her back. Her heart started to race.

A person in black.

There was a loud zap.

She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, putting a hand on the bed. "Did he say anything to you?!" All the words came out in a rush. It looked weird, probably, but she couldn't be bothered with that right now. Kayla leaned in further, sparks crackling in her hair. "What did he look like? What was he doing?"

He might have jumped if he hasn't been doped up and set on the cot. Even still, he couldn't deny that she'd surprised him, for once flinching back from the sudden breaks of lightning, harmless as it was. "What the hell, Pikachu?" The words came choking out as he watched her creep closer, leaning urgently over the cot. What the fuck was her problem all of a sudden?

Preston frowned, shutting his eyes for a moment and thinking back to that afternoon. Shit, if she wanted to know what badly... "Tall? Scrawny bitch. Had red hair and dark eyes." He felt sick just imagining the bastard's face, pissed that he couldn't do more to him before he ran the off. Pussy.

"He didn't say fucking anything, just that we didn't know who we were dealing with. Then he came at us." Preston tried to pull himself up higher and straighten himself out, painful as it was. "Turned into a panther or something when I took his sword." The black blade had nudged ever so slightly closer towards them, though he hadn't noticed, pulled towards Kayla's sudden outburst of energy. "Why? Do you know him?" Know where he could get a proper rematch? Or so he wished, anyways.

A panther? Red hair? That didn't help at all... Kayla curled her fingers, her nails digging into her palms. Still, it wasn't hard putting two and two together. She knew what he was, even if she didn't know who. Gritting her teeth, she fell back into her chair, clenching her fists until her knuckles turned while, electricity rippling along her shoulders. "No," she forced out after a few moments. "Not exactly."

She wanted to punch a wall.

"You probably shouldn't wander anywhere by yourself," she muttered under her breath, not looking at him anymore, her glare dropped toward the floor.

Preston chewed at his cheek, turning her words over in his head. What the hell kind of lame, half-ass answer was that? He watched quietly as she fell back into the chair, turning her stare to the floor. He'd seen her pissed often - enough that it was a wonder that she wasn't the one to have put him in the infirmary first herself, but he rarely ever saw her quite so... seething. The way she acted so distant now only made him wonder what she was holding back.

Normally, when she'd get so withdrawn, he'd drop the subject; but the way things seemed, she knew something about the bastard who near killed him, there was no way he could let it go so easily. "What is that supposed to mean?" Pres asked, his voice low and heavy. "Not exactly?" And he could still damn well take care of himself.

Fuck. She wasn't even sure what she meant. Kayla bit back a sigh, turning the words over in her head. If anything, she'd probably said too much already. But he deserved an explanation, didn't he? He was the one who'd gotten attacked and almost ripped to shreds by a furry, and she knew all too well what it felt like to get confined in a stuffy, sterile room like this without any answers.

But what could she say?

She barely knew anything either.

And it might have been patronizing, or stupid, or sentimental, but she didn't want him dragged into this either. She honestly didn't give a damn about how well he could hold his own in a fight.

"Fuck if I know," she answered, mostly truthfully, as she reached over and flicked him on the forehead. Sparks shot out of her finger. "Never met him. Sorry."

The young man stayed quiet, raising an eyebrow and giving her a suspicious look as she seemed to slowly unwind before him. Was she just being stubborn with him like usual or what there something else that he was missing? Whatever it was, Preston was too tired to push anything further and sank back deeper into the pillow. "Hey -" He wrinkled his nose as she flicked at him, the bits of sparks near making him sneeze. So graceful.

Pres sighed quietly, bringing the sandwich close up to his face again. "Whatever, next time I see that asshole, he'll have another thing coming to him." He'd been fighting back a yawn for some time then. Finally, he could hold it back no more, letting it go on for near ages it seemed. "You'll bring me more food later won't you?" He paused, blinking and glancing down at his hands. "I... don't think I'll be able to make anything for a while..."