“Okay, I know this looks bad…” Tal'Shar tried to scoot around Ga'len and get inside. "But. But it's just a scratch. Really. It's not like my arm's going to fall off. Or like it did fall off. It is, in fact, still attached to the rest of my arm." The first part wasn't QUITE true, but the second part was. Now, if he could get inside and get the blood off BEFORE his mom or step-moms saw it...
Ga’len stopped Tal’Shar’s retreat, simply standing in his way as he tried to step inside.
“Tal,” he said, raising his brow ridge. “Before you send Nysha and Delarix into a blind panic and Sylaise into a rampage, why don’t you just let me help you.” He said as he waved a hand by his head, signalling something to an invisible company nearby. He ushered Tal’Shar along with a gloved hand as he stepped inside and along a corridor. He waved down a concealed door and tapped in the code. Pulling Tal’Shar in with his good arm, Ga’len guided him to a small side room of the brothel, far from the courtesan’s rooms.
“You tell the boss or the girls I let you in here and I’ll remove your arm myself,” he said as he waved shut the door behind them. The room was large, comfortable, but not as elegant as the rest of what they had left behind. Several comfortable chairs, tablets, a large screen with several smaller pictures that showed various parts of the family’s residence, business and the outskirts, flickering, live-stream on the holoscreen. Pieces of armour, weapons and a few empty vials of terrazine were askew on the table. “I got everything we need here to patch you up. Some of the clients can get a bit overzealous and want to fight back. So I gotta patch up the boys and me sometimes.” He turned back to Tal’shar, his hands full of implements. “Sit.”