/Knocks heavily on the door./ Fuck, Nick, open up! /He drops his head against the wood frame, coughing violently. When he pulls his hand away, there's a decent amount of blood on his palm./ Fuck. /He mutters, before passing out completely, slumping slowly to the ground./
“I’m here, I’m he—” Nick says as he opens the door, but is stopped in his tracks when he notices the unconscious figure on his door steps. The smell of blood penetrates the air. “Fuck, Kolya?”
He kneels down and carefully rolls Kolya onto his back. There’s blood on his face, and his clothes seem to be ripped. Carefully, Nick places two fingers against Kolya’s throat, checking for his pulse. It’s slow but steady and he sighs in relief.
“However am I going to explain this one to Juliette?” Nick wonders and threads his arms below Kolya’s armpits and across his chest to hoist him up and drag him into the house. In the living room, he moves Kolya up onto the couch as carefully as possible
Kolya groans, his probably broken ribs protesting the movement. He's resting on something soft and squishy that smells strangely familiar--like him, he realizes. Odd, since he hasn't stayed anywhere long enough for the furniture to pick up his scent in years.
He sighs softly at the fingers that brush hair off his face, wincing when they get to a sore spot. The whole left side of his face is tender, and his jaw aches too, like someone's punched him in the mouth.
"Where'm I?" he mumbles at the hand.