[kill 08]

[harborbutcher]

[Dexter blinks, and in that span of time, he is no longer imprisoned and the silence is deafening. The song was mid-way through playing, and when it abruptly stopped, suddenly dying from exhaustion compounded on insanity seemed like the most viable explanation for it all

Comments

[kaikou_tide]

[Glaukir opened his mouth to reply, but Dexter hung up before he could respond back--mostly that he's blind, so telling Glaukir the room number is entirely useless.

Glaukir pushes himself to his feet and slips on his sandals, then heads out of his room and to the elevator. He counts the buttons until he hits the one he's pretty sure is six and waits for the doors to open.

Now, here's the tricky part. Assuming that that rooms are numbered on the sixth deck anything like they're numbered on the fourth or fifth decks is a big assumption, but that means that Dexter's room should be on... uh, that side? And if it's 64, that means it should be near...

Great. If Dexter hadn't hung up, Glaukir could have simply asked the man, but Dexter had simply snarled at him like he was a servant and hung up. Glaukir begins to count down the doors and raps on the one that he thinks is Dexter's.

He'll tolerate this kind of behaviour from someone who's sick and in pain, but no more after that.]

[harborbutcher]

[Dex hears a faint rapping - incredibly faint, in fact - over the din of the silence, already driving him as mad as the song did. Glaukir would serve another purpose to him tonight, other than as a medic; he would be background noise.]

[Dex has a nasty habit of locking his doors, however, and has to get up to answer it. After a few minutes' struggle, he finally manages to slide off of the bed and limp across the room, look through the peephole as a precaution, and... it's Glaukir, alright, but he's next door.]

[He swings his door open in his aggrivation.]

You.

Get in here.

[He was exhausted, feverish, in pain, and pissed. He had no patience for this.]

[kaikou_tide]

Good evening to you as well, Mr Morgan.

[Glaukir's tone is dry and he raises his eyebrow at the voice before moving over towards Dexter.]

Next time, you'll have to tell me how many doors from the elevators and on which side your room is. I'm blind, Mr Morgan, I can't read the numbers posted.

[He pauses at the entrance of the room.]

Are there things on the floor I can trip over?

[harborbutcher]

[Dexter gives him a blank, disgruntled stare.]

No. I am incredibly neat.

Get in here and heal. me.

[He swings the door open to it's widest extent, and begins to limp back over to his bed.]

[idkmybffblair]

Yes? What's your room number again?

[harborbutcher]

Not important.

[idkmybffblair]

Really.

If you'll excuse the bluntness - we're a bit protective of the Father.

Why are you seeing him?

[harborbutcher]

That's fair.

I was in need of his services.

1/2

[ttlynotawizard]

WHO ARE YOU AND WHY-

2/2

[ttlynotawizard]

[click]

[harborbutcher]

...

Alright.

[Locked to Dexter]

[ttlynotawizard]

I...shouldn't care who he sees, but...

...don't hurt him.

[psychoticracer]

My, my my. What an ~interesting~ pattern.

[harborbutcher]

What do you mean, commander?

[psychoticracer]

The good Father has a habit of healing killers. Wonder if he'll make a deal with you, too.

Wonder if it'll go as *badly* for you as it did for me.

[harborbutcher]

From what I gather the good Father just has a habit of healing, commander.