as she did whenever something violent happened, mili had tried to escape the situation, put herself as far from trouble as possible, so she hadn’t exactly seen who was involved. still, as she was trying to leave, she’d walked into someone who was trying to get a closer look at the fight, and a drink that smelled very intensely of strawberries and vodka had been spilled all over her white shirt. it was her own fault for wearing white to a party, she knew this much, so she’d stepped away apologizing profusely and then gone through every cabinet in the kitchen looking for a napkin or something like this. after a while, she figured toilet paper was her only salvation if she wanted to at least get the gooey thing that was stuck to her. distressed, she didn’t even think of knocking, walking straight into the bathroom and stopping on her tracks when she realized there was someone in there, hand flying to cover her eyes just in case. “sorry — sorry, i should’ve knocked, i’m so sorry,” she said, slightly pulling her fingers apart to take a peek once she recognized the voice and realized there was no nudity involved. “are you hurt? oh, was that — out there?” she asked, dropping her hand and reaching for his instead once her brain finally took it all in and made sense of it. “i wasn’t — i just — got a drink spilled on me, but at least it smells nice — don’t think i can save my shirt,” she said, struggling to form a full sentence as she waved off her troubles with a hand flailing in the air. “do you need help, with, uh, the bandages? i can — i’ve done it, you know, when you live with viktor — i’m a pretty good nurse.”
cheeks warm already from the alcohol, but warmer now - it took ducky a moment to recollect himself, free hand going to rub at his bruised cheek and refusing to wince at the throbbing pain, “uh -” he couldn’t remember the last time someone’d held his hand - first instinct to pull away, though he hadn’t, “yeah - no, it was, uh - a misunderstanding, or something. i’m good - feeling, uh. dunno, peachy-ish. you - you good?” ducky looked down at her, gave her hand a lazy tug towards him - nonchalant, about it, “it’s uh - it looks alright. red - pink, red-pink, whatever’s uh - it’s a nice color, on you, i think. stain or not, uh -” he sat back down, hand sliding out of hers and gesturing to the spot besides him, “yeah - sure. that’d be - uh, nice. kind of hard to do it myself - practically fucking, uh, blind over here. literally - kind of. got scarring in my eye - pretty, uh, blind in it. anyways -” ducky leaned back, “- d’you want to switch shirts? think, uh - i could pull yours off. mine’s got blood on it but - i’ve got a, fucking uh - hoodie, somewhere. that you could wear. blood-free, for the most part. probably.” a pause, “that’s a joke - uh. it’s clean, promise.”
