“Well, of course.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “Trust me when I say I’ve been there. But the liquor isn’t going to make you forget the way you want to — you’re the only person who can do that. And all I can do is take the edge off.” She pursed her lips, looking at him. “I’m going to find your kitchen, and you are going to finish up here, and go to bed. I’ll be right behind you.”
Victor nodded, “kitchen’s downstairs, hang a left, it’s an open layout down there so it shouldn’t be too hard to find. I’ll only be a few more minutes up here. Bedroom’s just down this hall.” His voice was quiet then he gingerly poured water over his head. “I’m sorry but if you wouldn’t mind bringing a little snack up with you when you come back to the room?”
“That’s the idea. You’ll want it when I release the painblock.” Summer rose to her feet, hair tumbling around her shoulders. She stooped again to kiss him on the forehead before striding out of the room. She was a bit bemused by the size of the house, actually; or more correctly, the ordinariness of it. But then, she supposed, he’d almost certainly simply bought whatever caught his eye, without thinking — well, alright, the things Victor might want out of a home weren’t the same as what she wanted. And she’d less than no business thinking right now of what they might want together.
A quick rummage among various cabinets and in the fridge yielded crackers, peanut butter, and a pitcher, which she filled with water. Anything else he might want, she’d come back down and get. She headed back up to the bedroom.
Victor scrubbed his hands over his face and finished cleaning himself up then carefully got up and out of the tub. He dried himself off then wrapped the towel around his waist and headed to his room. He hadn’t owned this house for very long and hadn’t had much time to decorate it to his tastes but the bedroom, that he’d had time to make his own. The bed was all red and silver with a thick duvet detailed with silver thread in an almost medieval pattern. He enjoyed old things, a kind of mix of old and new. The TV was a bit of a monstrosity but that was the only visible expensive electronic in the room. Victor padded to the walk in closet pulling open the double doors and pulling a pair of flannel pajama bottoms out of one of the drawers. Once he was done getting dressed he walked over to his bed then crawled in, his hand brushing over the slender scimitar hanging on the wall as he passed. He sat up a little in bed and waited for Summer.
Summer paused in the bedroom door, eyes flicking about to quickly take in the room. She deposited the pitcher and glass on the bedside table, hitching herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. Not meeting Victor’s eyes for a long moment, she contemplated the pitcher, before shaking herself and filling the glass with water. “Here.” In the same motion of handing, she released the painblock, watching Victor’s face carefully.