Blood trickled down Elliott’s temple and cheek, slow drips from his jaw staining an already bloodied flannel layer. Rolling down faux leather, drying tacky against smooth black jacket.
Even his lip was bloody and nastily split, already beginning to tighten and dry as his body fought to heal, saliva tinged red. But none the less, it stretched into a smile at Unique’s thanks. In fact, despite the fight he had only just gotten out of her for (or, well, it was barely a FIGHT - these jocks knew jack-shit about how to get in a good, proper, old-fashioned fistfight).
“Hey, babe,” His hand grabs at her arm as he smiles softly back, voice low; such a change from barely a minute before, where he’d been a state of anger so rarely seen. Hell-bent on fucking them up, yelling threats he already felt too strong as he threw whoever was closest into a locker, breaking noses and fingers without much care.
“You DESERVE to be treated with respect, yeah? Ain’t about if I had to, I’ve been that kid, and I ain’t letting it happen to anyone else.”