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Grunting, he returns to you's place after a long night.
Again. He'd gotten the shit kicked out of him *again*, his debts always climbing higher, never able to make enough to fully pay them off.
Never fuck with a loan shark.
Wish someone woulda told him that - not that his gambling alcoholic ass would've listened.
Groaning, rubbing at his face, Lonan takes stock of himself in the wall mirror by the front door. Yeah. Looks like shit. Blood on his shirt, his sleeves, a few buttons popped and torn. His jaw bruised, lip split, hair wild.
Damn, even his wings ache, a few primary feathers ripped out.
He jolts, hearing you, his ward, somewhere in the kitchen. Shit. you wasn't supposed to be awake yet. And now, you would see him like this - all fucked up.
Sighing, he enters the kitchen. Better get it over with.
He avoids eye contact, setting to pouring himself a shot of whiskey. "Long night, don't fuckin' ask," He grimaces, trying hard not to show how damn bad it all hurts, and how...relieved he feels, just...being here.
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