Pathetic and Defeated
“Look at you… you’re miserable,” Caretaker said, toeing his boot under Whumpee’s chin. Whumpee groaned in response. “Pathetic. Defeated. Why are you lying on the street, half dead in a puddle?”
Whumpee could only groan weakly again. Caretaker frowned and stepped back onto the main street, looking up and down the road but saw no signs of retreating attackers or victorious gangsters boasting their victory.
“Please,” Whumpee croaked, trying to curl his fingers into a fist. He failed spectacularly and his palm splashed into the puddle, drops of muddy water splattering the side of his face as the rain poured down on the young man.
Caretaker sighed and stepped back towards the fellow, umbrella covering them both from the rain. He stared down at the young man, deliberating his choices from here on out. He could leave the wretch to die in the rain, on the street like a dog, or he could bring him home, bandage him up, give him a hot meal, wrangle information from him and send the poor chap on his way.
Halfway through his deliberations, Caretaker had lowered his umbrella and tucked it under his arm before leaning down to scoop the young man under the arms and drag him to his feet. He hooked an arm around the boy’s waist to which Whumpee whimpered. Caretaker put the man’s arm over his shoulder and helped take the brunt of the young man’s weight.
“My house isn’t far,” Caretaker told Whumpee. Though it wasn’t close enough that his suit and hair wouldn’t be soaked by the time they got there. Oh well. Something interesting he supposed was worth his appearance’s temporary ruin. “Try and stay conscious long enough to get there, or I’ll drag you through the streets, alright?”
Whumpee grumbled something.
Caretaker smiled. “Excellent. This way then.”
*~*~*~*~*
Continued here
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