[Dodger has to take a few moments to catch his breath, before he can push himself into sitting up. Now that his wits are coming back to him... fuck, he's actually bleeding a lot. Maybe not enough to worry about his own safety, but enough that he should probably patch himself up before getting dressed.
The idea that the smell could be tempting Bigby doesn't quite occur to him, but... it's not far from his mind, either.]
If you point me toward it, I can clean up.
[He goes to get out of bed, and winces. Fuck... still drunk, still in pain, maybe not. Dodger lets out a huff, and flops back down.]
[ Bigby is ready to just motion toward the bathroom, if Dodger is going to be so insistent. Instead, he looks over as the younger man collapses back onto the bed. A quiet sigh follows in retort, and he runs a hand still stained red through his hair. Making his way to the bathroom himself, he rummages through the medicine cabinet for something that'll do. He comes back after a moment, though not without washing his hands first.
He pulls up a chair toward the bed, setting mostly everything down as he surveys the damage. What a mess. ]
I'm not a doctor, so if you want more whiskey, now's the time to speak up.
[ Putting a hand on Dodger's leg, he glances up at him to see if he might pull away, or just let him start the clean up with a soapy towel in hand. ]
And before you start, I know the basics of patching someone up.
[ Military experience, even if he is about forty years out of practice, but that's not the important part. ]
[He can't teleport safely when he's this drunk, and... he doesn't want to sleep here, for a variety of reasons.
Dodger stays still, though, grimacing a little when the towel passes over a scratch but otherwise just letting it happen.]
I'm used to mob doctors or doing it myself. As long as you don't fuck anything up, we're fine.
[Although that makes it sound a lot sketchier than it is, his uncle does at least have a medical license. He just also knows how to keep his mouth shut, which is why Dodger goes to him.]
... Sure. [ He almost sounds disappointed, but he’s not exactly surprised. ] I’m just gonna patch you up. Anything else, you’ll have to do later.
[ Bigby starts with his thighs, adding pressure where he can while dressing each wound. As he wraps the bandages, lifting and moving each leg as he needs to, he glances up at Dodger briefly, just to keep an eye out for any reactions. He’s out of practice with how slow he’s going, but it’s obvious this isn’t the first time he’s done it.
As for the claw marks further up, Bigby moves to stand over Dodger on the bed and apply patches of gauze where he can, occasionally blowing locks of hair out of his face. ]
You probably could just say doctor next time if you don’t want any questions. [ Not that he’s going to ask any right away. ] Gonna need you to sit up for the rest. I’ll keep you steady. [ He stretches out his free hand for Dodger to take, if he wants to make it a little easier for them both. ]
[He catches that hint of disappointment, but... decides to just ignore it. He can't stay here, even if he wanted to.
Dodger moves easily as directed, even if he winces very so often. It hurts, it's starting to hurt more as the adrenaline leaves his body, but he can compartmentalize the pain well enough and just keep trucking. It's fine, far from the worst thing he's experienced.]
What are you, a cop? [He shrugs slightly, but takes Bigby's hand to steady himself while he sits up.] I'm not exactly hiding what kind of person I am.
[Although he's still getting used to the fact that people don't automatically assume he's a criminal as soon as he uses his powers. That's... never been the case, before coming here.]
[ He rolls his eyes, expression flattening into something far more deadpan. No point in humoring that with an actual answer to that. ]
Right. [ When the younger man sits up, Bigby moves his hand against Dodger's back next. ] Is that why you've said two words about yourself since we've met?
[ It doesn't matter, and he doesn't really know why that bothers him as much as it does, but he leaves it at that. Back to focusing on the wounds, he leans a bit closer, head tilting to look over the mark on the other's neck. Bigby should get to dressing it but something else compels first.
His hand slides up to the nape of Dodger's neck, holding it in place as he presses his lips against the gash. While he laps up more blood, the way his tongue moves is noticeably different than before. Gentle. Tender. Like caring for a packmate than tasting a meal. When he pulls back, he carries on, saying nothing. ]
Keep this arm up.
[ The hand at Dodger's neck moves to lift it before he unrolls more gauze, starting at the wound and looping around under said arm a few times until eventually tying it off. ]
[Dodger averts his gaze, suddenly finding some spot on the floor very interesting. He does think to argue that the scars and tattoos should make it pretty obvious he's shady, even if the powers don't mean anything to Bigby. But he's distracted by the lips on his neck, and he mindlessly tips his head to give Bigby better access. It's... soft, intimate in a way he's not really sure what to do with, but he likes it. And his face ends up turning red by the time Bigby pulls back.]
...Yeah. Sure.
[He lifts his arm obediently, although his gaze stays locked on the floor. He's just... biding his time, until he can go back to his suite and stop thinking about this.]
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The idea that the smell could be tempting Bigby doesn't quite occur to him, but... it's not far from his mind, either.]
If you point me toward it, I can clean up.
[He goes to get out of bed, and winces. Fuck... still drunk, still in pain, maybe not. Dodger lets out a huff, and flops back down.]
Nevermind. Maybe just bring it over here.
no subject
He pulls up a chair toward the bed, setting mostly everything down as he surveys the damage. What a mess. ]
I'm not a doctor, so if you want more whiskey, now's the time to speak up.
[ Putting a hand on Dodger's leg, he glances up at him to see if he might pull away, or just let him start the clean up with a soapy towel in hand. ]
And before you start, I know the basics of patching someone up.
[ Military experience, even if he is about forty years out of practice, but that's not the important part. ]
no subject
[He can't teleport safely when he's this drunk, and... he doesn't want to sleep here, for a variety of reasons.
Dodger stays still, though, grimacing a little when the towel passes over a scratch but otherwise just letting it happen.]
I'm used to mob doctors or doing it myself. As long as you don't fuck anything up, we're fine.
[Although that makes it sound a lot sketchier than it is, his uncle does at least have a medical license. He just also knows how to keep his mouth shut, which is why Dodger goes to him.]
no subject
[ Bigby starts with his thighs, adding pressure where he can while dressing each wound. As he wraps the bandages, lifting and moving each leg as he needs to, he glances up at Dodger briefly, just to keep an eye out for any reactions. He’s out of practice with how slow he’s going, but it’s obvious this isn’t the first time he’s done it.
As for the claw marks further up, Bigby moves to stand over Dodger on the bed and apply patches of gauze where he can, occasionally blowing locks of hair out of his face. ]
You probably could just say doctor next time if you don’t want any questions. [ Not that he’s going to ask any right away. ] Gonna need you to sit up for the rest. I’ll keep you steady. [ He stretches out his free hand for Dodger to take, if he wants to make it a little easier for them both. ]
no subject
Dodger moves easily as directed, even if he winces very so often. It hurts, it's starting to hurt more as the adrenaline leaves his body, but he can compartmentalize the pain well enough and just keep trucking. It's fine, far from the worst thing he's experienced.]
What are you, a cop? [He shrugs slightly, but takes Bigby's hand to steady himself while he sits up.] I'm not exactly hiding what kind of person I am.
[Although he's still getting used to the fact that people don't automatically assume he's a criminal as soon as he uses his powers. That's... never been the case, before coming here.]
no subject
Right. [ When the younger man sits up, Bigby moves his hand against Dodger's back next. ] Is that why you've said two words about yourself since we've met?
[ It doesn't matter, and he doesn't really know why that bothers him as much as it does, but he leaves it at that. Back to focusing on the wounds, he leans a bit closer, head tilting to look over the mark on the other's neck. Bigby should get to dressing it but something else compels first.
His hand slides up to the nape of Dodger's neck, holding it in place as he presses his lips against the gash. While he laps up more blood, the way his tongue moves is noticeably different than before. Gentle. Tender. Like caring for a packmate than tasting a meal. When he pulls back, he carries on, saying nothing. ]
Keep this arm up.
[ The hand at Dodger's neck moves to lift it before he unrolls more gauze, starting at the wound and looping around under said arm a few times until eventually tying it off. ]
no subject
...Yeah. Sure.
[He lifts his arm obediently, although his gaze stays locked on the floor. He's just... biding his time, until he can go back to his suite and stop thinking about this.]