#sloane calloway

[kirkwallhawke]

23. sated

“I didn’t know you could cook.” 

Sloane looked over at Gavin. “So many layers to the mystery that is me. However will you discover them all?” 

Gavin grinned. “Well, it certainly won’t be for lack of trying to annoy you.” 

“That’s for sure.”

[kirkwallhawke]

sloane/gav: 69. “Why the hell are you bleeding!?”

He has been in this situation way too much for his liking.

Gavin opens the door to Sloane’s apartment with the key that he recently liberated, resisting the urge to yell out honey I’m home. She’s not around, but Gavin goes over to her kitchen, pulling his shirt off and dropping it on the floor so that he can run water over the cuts on his hands and forearms. The water turns red with his blood as it flows down the drain.

He’s so absorbed in his task that he doesn’t hear Sloane come in behind him. “Why the hell are you bleeding?” she demands. It’s probably a testament to what kind of behavior she expects from him that she doesn’t even comment on the fact that he’s apparently broken into her apartment.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Gavin says, patting his cuts with paper towels.

Sloane rolls her eyes, grabbing them from him and peering at his wounds with a critical eye. “Why the hell are you bleeding?” she repeats.

“Before you yell, it’s not my fault.”

Sloane stares at him.

“Not completely my fault.”

Sloane stares some more.

“Only partly my fault,” he finally amends. “There was just a deal I was part of, and it kind of went bad, and someone pulled out a knife, and…” Gavin is beginning to realize how many of his stories include and someone pulled out a knife. He has a feeling Sloane has realized that too. “Well, long story short, everything is fine, but I just got a few cuts. But I got the money too!” As if that made everything better.

“If this is your definition of fine, I hate to see your definition of bad,” Sloane says, even as she deftly helps bandage his cuts that thankfully don’t need stitches. “My definition of a fine day on the job is a day when I don’t get attacked. As any sane person’s definition would be.”

“Are you calling me insane?”

“Well, if the title fits.” She finishes up with Gavin and releases him. “Get yourself cleaned up. You have smeared blood on your face.”

Gavin is thankful that Sloane doesn’t ask about the key that he borrowed, and he goes to grab his shirt, hoping to get to the bathroom before she thinks about it.

Before he can take two steps, Sloane puts a hand on his shoulder. “And I would like my key back,” she adds.

“What key?” Gavin says innocently, grinning at her.

“Key please.”

Gavin puts the small key into Sloane’s waiting palm, grumbling at how unfair it is. The next moment though, he shrugs. After all, despite everything, Sloane doesn’t even ask questions when he shows up bleeding. 

Soon, she won’t ask when he shows up at all.