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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Nov 14, 2011 17:15:59 GMT -5
Arthur almost comfortably hid away in his arms, clinging softly to the back of his shirt and sniffling against the other's shoulders. The other man smelt perfumed and almost dainty, in a way, almost similar to the woman's maternal smells he was subconsciously reminiscent of.
He sniffles against the other's shoulder, and mumbles sadly through his sobs. "... C-Chest... e-everywhere... h-head....h-hurts..."
He seems to naturally curl against the other, trying to hide tightly into the only source of comfort he was provided. As Francis pulled away from him slightly he still gripped lightly at the other's shirt, blinking up at him softly, still scared, still lost.
His grip loosens a little, however, gently looking at the man with an almost wondrous look. He hadn't realised how hungry he was till he mentioned it. He just ached everywhere.
Sniffing softly, after a moment he just nods, his lips still trembling slightly.
He didn't know what it was about this man, but he almost felt safe with him.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Nov 14, 2011 19:16:31 GMT -5
The way the weeping stranger sobbed and clung to Francis nearly broke Francis' heart. Did the man suffer so badly? Francis found himself wondering, yet again, how the man had come to be fatally wounded in the alley.
As the man gazed at him with such a heart-wrenching expression, Francis couldn't help but offer at least a gesture of tenderness. He tentatively brushed away the stranger's hair from his eyes. Something about the man's bright eyes captivated Francis; it was almost familiar.
"There now," Francis whispered. "Does it still hurt?"
Francis was loathe to extricate himself from the man who clearly needed his comfort, and so moved quickly to the door. He called for a maid to draw up a bath and bring him a change of bandages as well as clothing, then instructed a footman to tell the cook that a hot meal needed to be prepared.
Francis quickly returned to the stranger's side and took his hand, squeezing it. He could hear the splash of water in the bathroom tub as the maid prepared it.
"The bath should be ready soon. Can you stand?"
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Nov 15, 2011 12:52:43 GMT -5
Arthur softly wipes his nose with the back of his hand, sniffling slightly. He watches as Francis moves up towards the door as he calls for the maid, and he can't help but watch like a child who'd never seen such things before -- and in a way, he was.
As Francis returned to his side, he looked down at their hands held together, and gently clasped his fingers onto Francis'. At the question, he again looked at the other, a little panicked.
"D-Dunno...."
But there was a part of him that would damned well try.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Nov 15, 2011 16:50:17 GMT -5
Francis thought he detected a spark of determination in the man's eyes beneath the vulnerable expression. It gave Francis a little more hope about the man's condition. But at the moment, he had to calm and encourage his guest first.
"Don't you worry," said Francis, moving to the edge of the bed to stand first. "I'll help you."
He tugged the man gently to sit up on the bed, then pulled the man to his feet. Francis made sure that the man's arm was secure around his own shoulders and that he bore most of the man's weight.
"Come on." Francis was slow as he guided the stranger into the bathroom, checking every step to make sure that his guest was not pained.
Francis gave the maid a nod of both thanks and dismissal upon entering, then helped his guest to sit down by a stool. Without thinking, he pulled off the man's borrowed shirt and began to unravel the bandages.
"We'll have to remove the bandages first," he explained, "then we can replace them when you're done."
He paused, catching himself before pulling down the man's trousers. Francis was used to undressing people, even strangers, probably more than anyone he knew, but this was an altogether different situation. The man was helpless and Francis did not want to betray the man's tentative trust in him in any way.
Francis reluctantly pulled his hands away and looked at the stranger directly in the eye. "Do you want to do this yourself?"
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Nov 15, 2011 17:41:03 GMT -5
Arthur did make it, and while he was rather pained and tired, he managed quite well to get there. It tired him out more than he realised though, and he hadn't realised that Francis had been undressing him until he was practically going for his trousers.
The blonde looked unusually panicked about that. He tensed up, and gripped ahold of the side of the bath. He shook his head, eyes slightly wide.
"M-Me---m'- okay--" He stammers, looking up at the other, a bit warily for the moment. He couldn't help it. He probably needed the time to himself to get his bearings a little, as well.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Nov 15, 2011 17:53:25 GMT -5
Francis could not miss the way the man's trembling voice and guarded expression. He suddenly felt guilty for alarming the man. Francis stepped back quickly, holding his hands up again.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I did not mean to frighten you, truly. I had thought you needed help bathing."
He took one last long, considering look at the man, wondering if his guest could handle himself in the bath. With a sigh, Francis decided to allow the man his privacy. He turned away and walked toward the door.
"I'll have someone lay out a change of clothes on the bed." He paused and glanced at his guest. "Then I'll have a maid take you down to the kitchens. I'll see you there."
With a nod, he stepped out and closed the door behind him. He would have to look further into this man's lost identity. But first, he needed to be fed. Francis hurried down to the kitchens, already pondering on the menu.
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Nov 15, 2011 18:06:32 GMT -5
Arthur watches Francis go, and after a moment, he does manage to get himself into the bath, if not without whimpering a little and hissing at his wounds. It felt like the wound in his chest was practically gaping, and probably was. However, the hot water was relaxing enough that for someone as fatigued as Arthur he practically dozed off in the bath. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a luxious bathe -- well, he wouldn't even if he could remember who the hell he was.
He somehow managed to climb out of the bath, make himself decent, and tread towards the room again. When he reached there he very almost curled up and fell asleep, but the maid came him and helped apply new bandages, and when he was done and dressed (Arthur being helped like this, Arthur being quite dazed on the matter)
He was taken down the kitchens, and all he could do was look about in wonder at the grandness of the house. Even in his actual memory, the only time he'd been any place like it was to raid it; and that was either when it was dead and lifeless or there was some sort of public event being hosted -- never as the neutral, working household it was.
When they came across Francis, Arthur stood there numbly for a moment, before gently shuffling forward and grasping his sleeve. He may be taken aback, but he was still scared. Francis was the only 'safe' thing he could be aware of right now.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Nov 15, 2011 18:38:00 GMT -5
Francis was fond of his cook, he really was - after all, he took in the best cook in the city for his household - but Francis wanted to make his guest's first meal in his home warm and special, rather than serving him something perfect but impersonal. So Francis waved away his cook's attempts to take over the meal or help out and rolled up his sleeves.
He was still worried about the man upstairs and how he was faring by himself. Francis would have to content himself with the knowledge that the maid would assist the man in every way possible. Before long, Francis lost himself in the flurry of kitchen work, comforted by the familiarity of the activity he loved.
He was so focused on perfecting the meal that the hand on his sleeve took him by surprise. He looked up abruptly and found himself staring at his guest, scrubbed clean and smelling of rosewater and soap.
"Ah, hello," greeted Francis, a little sheepish at being so surprised. "You're looking much better. Did you get to relax?"
He smiled and offered the man a piece of cheese. "Go on. It won't be long until I'm finished here. Why don't you sit over by the table?"
He gestured to the table by the kitchen window, recently cleared for his guest's arrival. Francis turned back to finish his work, even going as far as to arrange the whole meal artfully before presenting it to the stranger.
Francis nudged the plate toward his new friend. "Here. I won't keep you waiting any longer."
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Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on Nov 16, 2011 13:54:23 GMT -5
Arthur seems a little dumbfounded, watching the other move about for a moment. Cooking?... For him?...
He looks back over to the table, and quietly limps over to it. He lowers himself down, and glances back at Francis again, a little bit dazed at the other's movements and the cooking.
When the soup was placed before him, he looks at it a little dumbfoundedly. After a moment, he picks up the spoon, clumsily, and takes a mouthful.
After a few more tastes, he blushes a little.
He's barely ever tasted food so good.
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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Nov 16, 2011 20:24:10 GMT -5
Francis didn't think he found anything more adorable than the little spots of color on his guest's cheeks. Francis was delighted to see the man show a little more gladness, after all the fright he had been through.
"Ah! You like it then?" Francis was smiling broadly as he took the seat opposite his guest's. "Take as much as you would like. You deserve a full belly tonight; you look like you haven't eaten well in a while."
As Francis watched his guest fondly, he began to wonder where he would start to inquire to search for the man's identity. He supposed that he would have to start with local hearsay and see if he could pick up a trail. In the meantime, Francis had his guest to attend to first.
"You know," he said cheerily, "you should have a name. I'm sure we'll find out soon enough what you're real one is, but for now, I should like to be able to call you something other than 'my poor dear.'" He let out a little laugh. "Is there any name you'd like me to call you by?"
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