"Well g'mornin, sunshine!" Duck greets, a familiar pair of dark braids enough to indicate he's opening the homestead door to Lucy- facing away, by the time he makes it downstairs. "I tell ya, upstairs bedroom and a bad knee ain't exactly the match you'd want 'em to be." 'Sunshine' has always been a little sarcastic, when it came to Lucy- but it was fond at it's core, he was fond of them, at his core- so when green eyes settle on a bruise, fresh, angry- his expression drops, darkens. "Well now." He knows what a punch looks like. "Who went an' gave ya that, darlin?" There's a venom in it-but he shakes it loose, for long enough to step aside, usher Lucy into the house. "Here, c'mon in, you'll catch yer death out here, Winter's gettin' vicious early." He can be vicious as the cold later. "It hurt?" He questions. "Right now, I mean, I know it definitely hurt when it happened."
@ambercast