“That I am,” Matthew replied. “I’ve been with them for quite some time now. I’ll be sure to pass along your sentiments.” He heard her inflection shift slightly as she mentioned two names he had not expected in the least to spill from her lips. Was there some history there, long buried, that he somehow had no knowledge of despite his flawless record of loyal service? Or was this the offering of an olive branch, an additional gesture of peace meant to add to the general sign of armistice evident in their care and sheltering of him?
He studied her with an intense gaze that may have lingered just a little too long on the Rebel leader, taking in her expression and body language as he swept his eyes up and down her form. Even though he was sure she must have noticed his staring, he elected not to comment and instead cracked a sly smile that was probably only mildly reassuring at best. She could make whatever she wanted out of his actions { likely, she would assume he was motivated by the least innocent of intentions; as an attractive young woman she likely dealt with men who desired her almost on the daily--- so it wouldn’t be a far fetched assumption }, he didn’t really care.
His gaze followed her retreating form, only looking to the young woman beside him after the red haired woman had disappeared down the corridor. He gratefully took her hand, using the wall behind him and her strong grip to get to his feet. She was much stronger than she looked, he thought idly, but this didn’t register as any sort of surprise in his mind. Anyone working that closely to the top of an organization such as this needed to be capable of holding their own. Otherwise they were dead weight.
{ He decided to push the guilt clawing at the his belly away to examine later. . . Here he was, at the mercy of an enemy by all intents and purposes; the literal definition of dead weight. }
“I’m sure we can make it,” Matthew assured her. “We’ve already come this far.” His voice turned flippant, as if he were trying to be gallant. He often found his own words entertaining, and therefore did not even try to hide the genuine grin that accompanied his next remarks. “It’s every man’s dream to be nursed by a lovely lady such as yourself, and you’re making me feel better by the second. Are you sure you aren’t secretly a healer? Or a handmaiden of Mariah herself come to grace me with heavenly comforts?”
He let a laugh escape, a pleasant little sound that hopefully did not come off as mocking, but rather as flirtatious. He knew his words were ridiculous and over the top, but it amused him, and he doubted she’d do him any harm as a result. He didn’t have bad intentions for teasing her, but if he was misconstrued, he suspected that the consequences would be minor if any occurred at all. He knew better than to test the limits of the Rebel leader herself, but this kind young woman with such a pure heart? He couldn’t resist, even though he had the strangest feeling that he was tarnishing something pure and innocent just by speaking to her at all.
“A glass of water would be nice, he told her, “but that can wait until you have a spare moment later. You’’re already doing so much for me, Miss Fall, and I really have no less than the utmost appreciation. Honestly, I just feel as if I need to rest a while--- then I’ll be right as rain, up and about, making demands left and right. Just you wait!” he said, as if he were only a little tired, and not suffering from blood loss and a bullet wound.
He limped with her to the staircase, trying to lean on her as little as possible considering their difference in weight, the long distance she had already half-carried him, and the probability of her straining a muscle from the previous two factors. His eyes scanned the layout of the house for anything remotely of interest or usefulness, and in his momentary lapse in concentration, he tripped over the second stair. He caught himself, one hand shooting out the ground so he wouldn’t go down head first, his other arm pulling from Alexa’s grasp in an attempt to avoid taking her down with him. He muttered curses under his breath, as a twinge of pain shot up his wrist, but it didn’t compare to the agony in his injured leg from the tender flesh coming into contact with the hard, angled surface. He was laying over the steps, his feet dangling off the bottom stair, and his arms out in front of him. He thought he must have looked ridiculous, but that wasn’t exactly the issue at hand; would he be able to get up again?
