Habeas Corpus Verse. First Foray.

[demonologist]

Wes stumbled down the sewer corridor, ignoring the various hurts which plagued his body. He was almost there. To the Hyperion. Not that he believed he'd find sanctuary there, but it was the closest thing to it right now.

Fred. Gunn. He couldn't let himself dwell on his failures. The beast was too powerful. None of them had stood a chance against it. Or the damage it had already wrought with its zombie-lawyer horde. Wes paused, leaning against the sewer wall...

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[succubitch]

His touch stung, and she couldn't help but hiss in pain lightly as he inspected her wound. His assessment doesn't really come as a surprise. She had suspected it might need stitches, with the way it had been bleeding for days now.

At his attempt to look on the bright side, she rolled her eyes a little. "Yes, lucky me."

[demonologist]

There's a briskness to his movements as he begins to tend to her which betrays an underlying tension. So much has happened. He's still reeling from it all.

"You were supposed to leave town, Lilah. To get away from all of this madness." You were supposed to be safe. He doesn't say the last part out loud. It would be revealing too much.

[succubitch]

"Yes, well, a lot of things didn't turn out like they were supposed to."

She should have just left town, gotten out. Contacted one of the other branches of Wolfram and Hart. But she hadn't. She had been stubborn and stayed, living down in the sewers since the firm was destroyed.

And now she was here, needing his help again.

[demonologist]

He wondered if that was a dig at him. For terminating their affair. Fair enough, if it was.

Looking up at her, he adopted a slightly gentler tone:

"I need to sew it up, next. It's going to hurt. There's probably some liquor in the cabinet if you want to down some before we get started."

Lord knew he could use several stiff drinks. Would love to drink himself into a mind-numbing stupor. But for now, he needed his wits about him and not just for his own sake.

[succubitch]

Perhaps it had been a bit of one. She's never been the type to resist getting in a dig wherever she can. Even when she does need his help.

And does she hate that she needs his help.

"Alcohol might be a good idea."

For a variety of reasons, the least of which being that she knows the physical pain is going to be worse before it's better.

[demonologist]

It didn't take Wes long to track down a bottle of whiskey. It was even unopened. An expensive brand, most likely Angel's. They needed it more than he did, right now, that was for certain.

He handed her the bottle, figuring she didn't mind drinking straight from the source. Time was still of the essence. Rifling through the medkit, Wes began to set out what he would need to patch her up properly. His side still hurt, and occasionally he grimaced when he moved the wrong way, but he did his best to hide his discomfort. He would have to bandage it up later once they were at the safe-house and had more time to regroup.

After a few minutes of preparation and trying to give Lilah a head-start on the whiskey, he finally checked with her again.

"Ready?"

[succubitch]

She takes the whiskey from him. Given the circumstances, she could care less about drinking straight from the bottle. It's not like anyone is around to care if she's doing so (she knows Wes won't care). She notices a slight wince in his stance occasionally, but didn't comment on it. Right now, she needed to focus on the task at hand.

Which was knocking back as much whiskey as she could before he had to start sewing her back up. She's taken a few long swigs before he finally speaks again.

"As I'm going to be."