we were born sick, you heard them say it

SUMMARY: Tucker comes to check on Freya after she apparently absconds from the infirmary.  When he finds her much more ill than he thought, he calls Mira over to lend a hand in the only way you can really help an ailing alufiend.

TW: Language, some sexual content, gross wound descriptions.

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[Freya] Freya .. felt like absolute utter shit. Some might have told her that she'd have been better off staying at the Infirmary, but what were they really doing for her? She'd been given some pain meds, but with this sort of injury, they could have been candy for all the good they were doing. The grody burn had been cleaned, but for every bit they cleaned, it felt like the burn went even deeper. Scorching the white of her bones there beneath the skin, until the doctor had given up and simply covered it with gauze to try and fight infection. She'd told them she could fix it on her own, and had been promptly given a drug to knock her out -- but it's affect hadn't lasted long on the Alu-fiend. When she came to, there'd been a nurse checking on her. One who chattered quietly and friendly once she realized her patient was awake and watching her every move with silent, glassy blue gaze. The nurse never suspected a thing was going to happen, even when she turned to leave and Freya caught her hand. She left the woman in her elated stupor a boneless weight on the side of the bed, a smile fixated dopey on her face and enough energy drained from her to feel at least slightly alive again. She could feel bits of her mending on the inside, though it wasn't enough -- and wouldn't be until she could get her hands on someone she's fed from before, and fed deeply. Dumb succu-tricks. They almost always had stipulations. When she found Huck though? He was too far gone to provide her any sort of help, other than the comfort of his warm body on Mira's couch, and though he tried to get her to stay, she'd crept out of the quad she totally lock picked to get into ( sorry ) and stumbled her way off campus and to the small apartment she lived in. And hadn't left since. There she could be found; sweating beneath the covers in the plush comfort of her bed. The room was silent -- the fever that raged in her brain made the television obtrusive, and the light from her laptop hurt her eyes. She wasn't as bad off as she would have been if there wasn't .. well, she'd ordered take out. Thrice. Bags left untouched on the counter, or one even on the floor where it'd been dropped, and there were three delivery boys -- well, one was a lady -- all in a pile on the floor next to the apartment door. Dead? Nope. Just in the same state as that nurse. Drained, and in heaven with it, depite how they lacked the means to get up off the floor and leave. They'd be fine in a few hours, maybe a little longer. Who knew how much she'd taken from each, or how long the drug like effect would last. Freya did. But there was currently nobody there to ask the questions.

[Tucker] Knock knock fucking knock. Who is it? It's your brother. He slammed on the door a few times, and when there was no answer? He just fucking let himself right on in, because you bet your ass he had a key, didn't he? Tucker was in a foul mood, let's be certain. Even his anger was pretty. It was smooth and cool-frosted perfection etched on his face, but in those blues it was a firestorm of rage that threatened to overflow at any second. It was all there in those shoulder-rolls as he neatly stepped over the bodies of delivery boys. Dead? No, he watched their chests rise and fall, and shrugged and rifled through some of the untouched offerings. "Freya! It's me. Came to check on you, since apparently you decided you were just too cool for the infirmary." Oh hey, spring rolls? Awesome. The kind in delicate rice paper, nice big shrimp nestled in with greens. Tucker helped himself, and made his way into the bedroom with them. Freya had plenty of food here if she got hungry. The cambion leaned lazily against the door frame and took a bite of his stolen snack. "I'll pay you back for 'em," he said. "Delivery boys? Frey, c'mon now. Bet you could find somethin' much more satisfyin'." He tipped his head back towards the living room. "You want me to go lure somethin' back here? Saw a little blonde thing runnin' along on my way here. Could feel her starin' at my arse."

[Freya] Tuck could have anything he wanted out of those bags. Frankly, she had no idea what she'd even ordered. Just enough to get someone to come to the apartment. The knocking was heard, and ignored. She wasn't expecting any body, so it wasn't important. And it hurt too much go get out of bed. She did, however, turn a little when she heard someone out in the kitchen. The apartment was very very small. Made up of just three rooms -- her miniscule bedroom, a bathroom, and a living room kitchen combo deal. It would take him like four steps to get to the bedroom, where he'd find his sister prone in her bed. For a girl who mostly dressed in black, her apartment was where all the colors were. A bold purple duvet, with pillows of teal and cerulean; some with patterns, some solid.. Art on the walls, and pretty colorful bottles on the dresser. The living room matched the same color scheme, though it was heavier on the blues while the bedroom was heavier on the purples. Just a loveseat rather than a full sized sofa, and a small slipper chair with a zebra print. Fluffy midnight blue carpet beneath the small coffee table. Pop of bright blue curtains, matching the ones in the bedroom too. She liked colors, especially those of the peacock feather -- but she knew that on herself? She was suited to neutrals, and red. He'd find her half rolled over, naked as a jay, and a hand clutching over the thick gauze that had been taped to her neck and chest; already spotted with dark blood and a sickly yellow color in the shape of the crucifix. Pulling up the covers that had fallen some, to at least halfway hide herself -- or more than likely she'd gotten cold in that split second, because why the fuck would she care if her anyone saw her naked? A little groan left her, and she shooed at him with her hand. "Go 'way. Take all the food." It wasn't even a halfhearted attempt to get him to leave. "Shut up," she whined a little, "delivery boys work just as well as anyone else. And they came to me." All she'd had to do was shuffle out into the living room with her swinging hips and plump breasts, and they hadn't even run when she'd weakly grabbed and began to drain them. That easy. Feeding without sex was the best invention ever. Pathetic stare, through lashes cast at half mast, and blues alight with the infection swarming her, found Tucker, and suddenly Freya felt like crying. Weak. So weak.

[Tucker] "I can't eat all that," he replied. "You want me gettin' fat?" Spoiler, he could eat until he was bursting at the seams and he'd never be anything but sleek and graceful, designed to appeal to any and all genders so long as they liked things that had dicks. Munching, he stepped over, set down the food on the nearest flat surface, and chewed and swallowed before he set his hand on Freya's forehead. "You're burnin' up," he murmured, smoothing her hair back. "Can you feed without fuckin'? Maybe another half-demon's energy would do somethin' for you. You can even drain me til I'm dozin', if you need to, but I'd appreciate you givin' me a chance to at least get in a chair or somethin' first." While he spoke, he was moving. Into the bathroom, finding a washcloth. He doused it in the coldest water he could get from the tap, wrung it out, and returned, draping it over her forehead. It was hard to see in the darkness, but he was pretty sure she did not look good. Down he sat on the edge of the bed, watching her. It wasn't often that he had the chance to do the whole big brother thing, but he chose to drape the ten day difference between them around his shoulders like a cape. "You shouldn't have left the infirmary, Frey," he softly added. "You should've told 'em what you needed and then stayed." It was followed by an even softer, "I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna bring you his heart. I promise."

[Freya] This might be the only opportunity he gets to do the big brother thing, so eat it up, Tucker North. Freya hadn't the means to protest -- well, not physically anyway. She'll still try and talk him out of it, just watch. She wasn't just hot, but clammy and wet with the sweat dotting her hairline, and when he touched her she trembled a little; curling into the bed with a soft hiss. "I dunno if it'll work." It would, just like feeding off anyone would do -- she just knew that it seemed to work so much better when it was someone who's taste she'd already had, and had plenty of. Those odd eyes followed him when he left the room, and again when he came back a few moments later -- and the coldness of the cloth had her gasping, and clutching at his wrist -- just in case he tried to pull it away. "They couldn't help me there. I waited too long." The touch to his hand rose up higher, until she was able to reach up and cup the side of his face; thumb smoothing over his jaw a little with it's trembling touch. "Just have someone get rid of that cross of his first. Fuckin' thing is the worst. You haven't .. you haven't told Sebastian, have you?" For the first time, she let real worry enter into those eyes. Their father could be a mix bag. Overprotective at times, or he might be in the mood to berate because she was less than perfect with that injury marring her skin, or because she'd let her brother's dopple get the drop on her in the first place. Though, you know. They could probably use his centuries of expertise. Freya just wasn't healing like she should be, even with the bodies in the living room.

[Tucker] Tucker, a big fan of touch in just about every sense, leaned in to Freya's hand, and smiled. "Aw, for you? I'll figure out what metal that thing's made of and I'll drop it in acid til it ain't nothin' but sludge. Then I'll bury it...yeah, I'll bury it in a box of dirt and bricks and I'll sink it down to the bottom of the Thames." He patted the washcloth, a silent promise that he wouldn't remove it, and then pulled his hand away. "It scarred, by the way," he added. "Scarred right on up. Like some kind of x-marks-the-spot between my shoulders." The idea of telling their father hadn't even dawned on him, and it was obvious from the way he blinked and seemed to digest the notion. "No," he admitted. "I haven't. But I'm thinkin' I ought to. I'll give him a call, yeah? Maybe he knows somethin'." Look, Tucker was williing to contact his estranged father for Freya's sake. Now that was love. "So what do you need, then? Is it better to feed off somebody familiar, or what?" Freya had energy transfers and self-healing, and now she was presented with Tucker's gift, that ability to be one step ahead. To know what others needed before they themselves knew that they needed it. In a pure incubus, perhaps it was used to predict the decisons of a mark. All the better to seduce you with, my dear. In Tucker, well, it could be used for that, and it could also be used to the advantage of himself and his friends and his family. Say the word, Freya, and Tucker would go find you a familiar face. Like perhaps miss Mira Roth, on her way home from tea.

[Freya] "You're the best," she sighed softly, though even that pleasured sound had a pang of the pain she felt on a constant basis riding along it. His cheek was given a soft pat, and then her hand fell weakly down to lay half in his lap. The idea that his had scarred knitted her feverish brow. "Is it bad?," she whispered, and was already gently pressing to the bandage on her upper chest. Can you imagine a pale person going even paler? Freya sure did, now. Not just from the siezing grip of hurt, but the idea that she'd forever carry this mark. But the mention of calling their father had the hand that had fallen against his leg turning so she could grip it. "No," came a sharp cry. "Just leave it. Don't call him. He'll just come, and there's nothing he can do." Plus, he was a busy-fucking-body and would tell her mother. And his mother. And probably their grandparents, cousins, anybody he could. "Just leave it," she whimpered a little, and pushed up with her elbow to raise herself closer to him, the plea caught in her stricken expression. A soft nod bobbed her head; dark hair stringy and damp and lacking the luster that usually shone through the jet locks. "It'll work, eventually, with just anyone. Better, with someone I know, someone I've fed from. Someone there's a connection to. I tried, last night -- with the guy from the coffee shop you and Beth thought homeless? He wasn't in the right state for it, and it turned out I didn't have enough energy to do more than just lay with him anyway." The washcloth had fallen in the way she sat up, but Freya hardly noticed; in fact, she tilted her hed now to press her cheek against his bicep. "There's .. there's a bloke in Cheapside, Gavin Powell -- remember him? I used to feed off him all the time before I even know what the fuck it was. Let him have my virginity even. And .. the girl, Mira -- from when I first showed up? I've never fed from her, but there's a definite connection. Or you, I could try you .. but I don't want you to end up piled by my front door." Distress flooded her features. "I don't think your Beth would like that much." Our Frey was certainly a worrier -- when it came to everyone but herself.

[Tucker] Yikes, okay. So calling Daddy was a big nope, and Tucker chuckled, but it only served to somewhat mask the worry that was written across his face. "Alright, alright, I ain't callin' him.  Oi. Careful with that, I didn't give you the cloth so you could go tossin' it around your bedroom like a Tuesday afternoon stripper." He picked up the cloth and held it against her forehead while she leaned on him, and a soft sigh slipped out past his lips. "Don't worry about the scar. It ain't bad. Just a bit of white. It'll fade to pink in time, I think. Besides, everybody knows chicks dig scars." The list of options of people that Freya knew to feed from was mulled over, but interrupted by a snort. "Gavin? Really? Well, I suppose it was a bloody mercy, considerin' the way he was always starin' at you." With Freya coming to lay her head against his arm, he put his arm around her to support her. "Well, I dunno how to find Gavin these days, or your homeless guy. But I do know where to find Mira Roth. She's the one who let me know you'd taken a turn for the worse. Left me a note on my door. Got her number? I'll call her for you." And he was stepping away carefully to try to hunt down Freya's phone. "I see her 'round Lily Hall sometimes when I'm doin' my music classes, usually flittin' about and tinkerin' with lights. She said she knew you. But when she said knew, she had that look that told me she meant carnally." He paused, glanced back at Freya, winked. "Amber Westwick, by the way. I think she rather despised herself for it, but she always was a little prude, or at least that was the face she put on."

[Freya] Tucker was talking, but honestly .. Freya heard like none of it. She couldn't concentrate beyond the waves of nauseating pain that struck her as the effects of the last delivery boy started to wear off. There were reasons behind it not lasting long -- strangers, no sex -- but Freya was a choosey thing when it came to who she actually let in her pants, or got in the pants of. Succubus or not, it wasn't all about sex for her. She needed the connection, which is why feeding without fucking was such a lovely thing. And why having a regular .. friend .. was such a lovely thing as well. Her phone wasn't far, though nothing was in this shoe box apartment -- just on the tv stand outside of the bedroom door. He'd find Mira under M. He'd moved away, and Freya slumped back onto the bed, half on her side, half on her stomach now with the majority of the duvet pushed beneath her belly. She was all shakey and trembly, but now she was also really fucking hot. The cool air felt phenomenal on her bare ass and back, and lashes squeezed shut against the pulsating non-calm -- nope. It was frayed nerves and wounds too deep to just be covered by gauze. Little sounds, whimpers and groans, went muffled by the bedding she pushed her face into; not wanting to alarm her brother by them. He was too worried already. That was her job.

[Tucker] Tucker stood outside the door of Freya's room, and he spoke on the phone. "Hi, it's Tucker North...yeah, listen, I need your help. Or really, Freya needs you. She needs to feed and it's gotta be somebody she knows." A pause. "Yeah? Alright then, where are you?" What followed were a series of walking directions from somewhere near Turner Hall. "You really don't know how much this means to us both, Mira. Just knock on the door when you get here and I'll let you in. Mind the delivery boys on the floor. No, they ain't dead, I promise. Just drained, they'll recover." Freya fed hard, harder than Tucker usually did, though on occasion Beth did just basically roll over and snooze the second he pulled out. He had thought that maybe he just wore her out with the exertion, but maybe he was feeding more heavily than he thought he was. With the call ended, Tucker returned to the bedroom and sat back down on the edge of Freya's bed, his hand rubbing gently at her upper back. "Mira's comin'. She's gonna take care of you, okay? Says she just wants to change clothes real fast."  It was maybe about ten or fifteen minutes before there was an additional knock on the door. Tucker smiled and rose. "That ought to be Mira," he remarked, gently rubbing Freya's back once again. He hadn't gotten up, save to retrieve the spring rolls and finish them off because holy shit they were perfect. But now he was rising to head for the door and see who was waiting. There was a bit of muffled conversation between cambion and fae. Mira sounded tense and worried. Tucker offered her some of the take-out. She declined, but instructed him to put it in the fridge so it could be consumed after the feeding--because Mira was sure she'd be ravenous. Tucker stuck his head back in the doorway. "I'm gonna hang out here in the livin' room, okay? I just don't wanna be too far. Don't worry about any sort of...sexin' noises or whatever, I ain't judgin'." Besides, he could feed himself off the residual dregs.

[Miriam] And that was when Mira stepped into the bedroom. Her face was furrowed with concern. "Freya? Oh, no..." As Tucker ghosted off into the living room to watch TV and play Two Dots while his sister got fed, Mira came closer. "Oh, no. It's going to be okay, I'm here." She was still wearing her coat, which was odd considering she was normally completely unphased by cold, a long black sort of duster-thing that hung to her knees and was buttoned to her chin. "Tell me what you need."

[Freya] Ten or fifteen minutes that felt like hours, and with Tucker rubbing at her back, Freya actually managed to doze off a little -- not even stirring when he rose to grab something from her kitchen, or even when he came back. Not until the knock at the door, which startled her a little, making her murmur and lift her head from where it was using part of the blanket as a pillow as she was still in the same place she'd laid down after moving to try and sit up next to him. When Tuck leaned his head back in, all Freya did was make a little ``mhm`` because she was more than convinced there'd be no sex. She was thinking she might not even have the energy to feed at all. It might be like the night previous, on the green, when the demon parts of her had tried automatically the moment Huck had been close enough, and had fizzled out almost immediately. She forced her eyes open when Mira's voice cut through the silence of the room, and with a soft groan, she rolled slowly over. Flat on her back, with the deep purple blanket only draped a bit across her hips and thighs; leaving pale flesh on display. "It's .. it's not healing. Infection. Fever," her tongue danced across the fullness of her bottom lip, and she sucked in some air through her teeth when she pushed with her foot to get herself back against all those pillows she had. So many pillows, in so many sizes. "Will you help me? I need .. help." God, it might have hurt worse to actually admit that, than what was even going on in the first place. A soft hand fell against the bed, where the sheets were just as deeply purple, and she danced them in Mira's direction a little, beckoning her closer.

[Miriam] It was lovely, this room. It reminded Mira a little bit of her own, actually, only in shades of purple rather than red. Her second favorite color! A hand flew up to her mouth when she saw the state that the lovely alufiend was in, and she looked just as alarmed as Tucker had, but only for a brief moment. "Of course I'll help." Her voice was soft. Soft as a distant whisper, and she didn't once judge Freya for having to ask for aid. It was hard to ask. She knew. They were both proud things, weren't they? Beckoned closer, she nodded, but she paused at the edge of the bed. First she had to get off her shoes, the little gray flats she'd been wearing last night, and she toed them off. Then came the jacket. As it turned out, there was nothing underneath the long coat but her own pale skin, decorated with that dusting of colorful stars along her ribs and the curve of her breast. Naked, she climbed into bed with Freya, and immediately she slid arms around the poor, overheated thing. "Okay. How can I help?" she whispered, right up against Freya's mouth. Whether it was sex or something else, she was here to offer it, all of it. The washcloth that Tucker had given her was gently pulled away, and she used the cool side of it to wipe gently down Freya's cheeks and neck.

[Freya] Freya trembled, and watched, as Mira peeled away her coat and left herself in nothing but skin. Well, she'd come prepared, hadn't she? It might have been for nothing. We'll see. The warmth of Mira's body was almost too much to handle at first, and Freya squirmed uncomfortably, but the searing heat melded away to smoldering, and she took a few deep breaths, gulping at the air like a fish -- but then there was Mira's mouth, right there, so close. Succubus instincts took over, as if she had no choice to them at all. Weak hand rose up, disappering into the thickness of Mira's head, and the mouth on hers was claimed in a soft kiss. One that deepened as the moments passed, one that soon engaged the sweep of her tongue to find Mira's own -- but the moment it did, it was no longer a kiss. Parted lips remained against Mira's, but she was pulling now -- pulling at the essence that was more sexual than it should be, but that's what she needed. From the very little space that was left between their mouths, flecks of a gossamer red could be seen, if anyone had been looking. It was almost like a mist, some sort of subtance, almost like the way a fire trickled up to the sky from it's highest point. She took, and she took, and she took -- leaving Mira with euphoric bliss, that also came with a weakness as if she'd run for miles and miles and miles without stopping. It was hot, and it was cold, and it was perfect. And for Freya? She could already feel the fever receding. Already feelt he way the infection in her body began to fade. But it wasn't enough. Her tongue lapped at the inside of Mira's mouth, as if she might get the energy faster that way, and her other hand joined in holding on to the woman; pressing against her lower back to pull her that much closer, as Freya half turned into her, tangling up their legs.

[Miriam] It wasn't that Miriam had come looking to get laid. She had come not sure what she was going to need to do to feed Freya, so she had decided that she would arrive nude under her coat. She remembered seeing the sparks flicker between her and Huck last night, but that was all. Miriam parted her lips for the kiss and sighed softly into Freya's mouth. Even ill, she was such a delicious darkness that she would never, ever turn down. And then the pull came. She had never felt anything like that before, the sensation of energy being unraveled. It was like an unwinding ball of yarn somewhere within her, sucked from her, going into Freya. The second sigh was shaky, and there was a bit of voice given in the form of a muted moan, because oh, that euphoria. It trickled into her and reminded her of so many things. The thrill of walking the tightrope for a crowd, the hot steel of a sword sliding down her throat, the rush of her first kill. Of Freya's fingers moving inside her relentlessly. So when she was tugged closer, Mira went oh so willingly, and let her take all that she needed. It wasn't without its own effects, of course, and the tangling of their legs betrayed that. She'd certainly not insist on anything tonight, and she already felt a little dazed and fogged, but she caught the alufiend's leg between her own and rocked just enough to provide herself with a little stimulation.

[Freya] The more she took, the better it felt -- for Mira, for Freya, too. There was a humming in her throat as she fed, as she took from Mira what .. well, what Mira needed. That was the problem with this. It was an essence that she stole, a part of her. Of course Mira would get it back, it would just take some time. And if Freya wasn't careful -- and odds were she rarely was, because she just didn't give a shit most of the time, or like now, when her body was under such duress, she could end up draining the dark fae all together. Leaving her vegetated. Leaving her dead. At least she'd die happy, with a smile on her face, right? The way Mira writhed, shifted until she was grinding down onto one of Freya's thighs set the Alu-fiend into motion; using newly stolen energy to roll Mira onto her back, and follow until she was laying half on top of the girl; breasts to breasts, the flat of her belly against Mira's torso, her pelvis nestled up against her hip. A leg rose up, flattening her thigh against the top of Mira's -- because truthfully, who liked it when their food was squirming all about? Freya fed, and fed. Took and took. Selfishly. While burnt bone mended. Muscle formed. Blisters dried. Skin renewed and closed over the gnarly wound beneath the the gauze. A palm pressed firm down on Mira's shoulder, helping to pin her to the bed -- though at this point, it was probably unnecessary. At this point? Mira might be a bed pile, might be in that state of boneless stupor. You can almost count on it. Freya, however, managed to realize this, and with great reluctance, she wrenched off the girl, and fell back against the pillows beside her; panting a little, licking at her chops. "Tuck? Tucker. Tucker!"

[Miriam] Rolled. Oh, Mira went so easily, landing underneath Freya on the blankets, and she found herself so exquisitely pinned. It was just what she loved, that feeling of utter surrender. And she was helping Freya, too! That strength had certainly not been there before. The faerie took it as a positive sign. There was one last, hushed moan from the girl, something approaching ecstasy, though she was by now too weak to bother trying to grind that wet warmth between her thighs against one of Freya's own. She arched, she whimpered, she looked seconds away from orgasm. But it never came and, well, she never came. She was left laying there, naked among blankets and pillows, soft-eyed and dazed and barely able to move. Oh, it felt so good, it felt so good, it did. Mira was only distantly aware of the movement, of Tucker's name being called.

[Tucker] Meanwhile, the cambion in the living room looked up from his carton of curry. "Yeah?" In he meandered, leaning against the door frame once again, blues raking over first Freya, then the pretty naked thing in the bed with her. "Hm. I like her tats, very cute. You doin' any better there?" Heedless of the half-conscious fae, he came to sit down on the edge of the bed again and look Freya over. "You look better. Oi, you didn't kill her, did you? I'll never hear the end of it from Ash if you did."

[Freya] By the time Tucker arrived in the room, Freya had sat up. Long legs were over the side of the bed, toes tucked against the bed frame in a way that lifted her legs up a little higher and hid certain parts of her. Hands pressed against the edge of the bed, and she had her head down a little, but it lifted when her brother arrived, and she took a soft breath; meeting eyes of such a similar color to her own when they finally arrived off her pale frame and to hers. She gave him a bit of a half smile, and then looked over her shoulder at Mira laying there; studying her a bit with a frown, and then up at Tucker. "You shouldn't have called her though. I shouldn't have let you." Brushing a hand through hair that was in desperate need of a wash, she swept it back off her neck and to the other side; exposing the bandage on her skin. "Tell me how it looks?" There was worry back in her eyes, and she scooted a little closer to him next to her there on the bed, so he wouldn't have to reach much to pull away the bandage. When he peeled it off .. they'd find the flesh mostly intact. But still red and angry, puffy and swollen. A definite improvement. It was hot to touch, but looked a little like a burn might if you touched a hot pan, rather than charred and mutilated like you sat in a fire and let it eat you. Because that's what the holy burn had done. Ate her.

[Tucker] "You needed it, Frey." Tucker looked down at Mira, watched her eyelids flutter. "I'm sure she'll be fine. She seems blissed out, at the very least. Happy as a clam." He patted the faerie gently on the knee, felt her stir a tiny bit. "Aw, you just rest there, stargirl," he said to her, turning blues back to his sister. Gently he tugged the bandage free, slipping deft musician's digits underneath the tape that held the gauze in place to separate it from flesh as painlessly as possible. "You tell me a lot," he said as he unpeeled, "about not denyin' my nature or whatever. Well, maybe you denied yours. Look, I get it, you didn't wanna be an inconvenience on the people you give a damn about, but we're still just a couple of demon half-breeds. We need this just as much as we need all that take-out in your fridge. Which reminds me, did you order anything without meat you wanna get rid of?" The gauze was peeled away, and he eyed the wound with a raise of brows. "Well, it ain't pretty, but it's prettier than it was, yeah? Bad news is I'm bettin' that will scar. A wound that deep is gonna leave a permanent mark." Tucker was no doctor, but an evolutionary anthropologist had to have a certain amount of knowledge of the workings of the human, or half-human, body. He lifted his gaze to her face to watch her reaction.

[Freya] Freya held a breath all while he so carefully worked at getting the bandage off. Mercury gaze -- mostly back to normal there too -- fixated on his face as he spoke up, telling her stuff she already knew, and making her feel guilty about it. Oh, but she knew that's not what he meant to do -- it's just how it was, she couldn't help it. The way she'd been raised, even though it had never been something her father, or even Aunt Val had outrightly said .. she knew she shouldn't make attachments. "People around us, Tucker .. they tend to get hurt. It's better this way." Because it had to be. ".. I .. I don't know what I ordered. Just take it all, there's probably something." Fear at what he was going to find beneath the white gauze dropped her hand to his thigh and she squeeeeeeeezed until he spoke again. His words flew her hand up, and oh so cautiously she touched it. Expecting to find it wet and gross with pus and blood still, but her fingers found only dry hot puffy skin. Skin. Relief swept through her, and dissolved a good bit of the worry reflecting in blue eyes. "I .. I can deal with a scar." Seemed like she wasn't going to have a choice. "We can match," she tried a wan smile then, and tilted against him; dropping her head to his shoulder. Picking at some fray on the knee of his jeans. Quiet a moment, until. "It's not that I don't want to rely on people. It's not that I don't want to a part of something. Have actual real friends, be able to be your sister in the way you need it .. hell, be someone's girlfriend. I just .. I don't know how. You got so mad that Sebastian picked me, that I went to live with him, but you don't understand what that entails. It was training and school, it was lessons in being a demon -- not a human. It wasn't a loving father I grew up with, it was a .. mentor. Creating a prodigy."

[Tucker] People around us tend to get hurt. Tucker looked at her a long moment, and of course he thought of the people in his own life. The friends he'd made at Shepherd--there was pretty much nobody that he was aware of who outright disliked him other than Alex Kearny and his fragile heterosexual masculinity. His mother. He thought of... "Thought I'd bring Bethy back a little somethin'. She doesn't eat meat." Except Tucker's, har har har. "But let me at least leave you somethin', yeah? You gotta feed the human too." Freya seemed relieved that she was no longer all sorts of fucked up, and Tucker smirked and turned his back to her. A lift of the shirt showed off his own scar, white and pink-edged and raised against his skin. "Frey, I'm glad you wanna match, but next time maybe let's do matchin' shirts or somethin', yeah?" he asked wryly. The shirt was pulled back down, so he could look his sister in the eye and listen to her. You'd think having a heart to heart with her while she was naked and there was a semi-conscious also-naked faerie in her bed would be odd, but well, not for the Moreau children, apparently. Because that was what they were, when they were described as a unit. The Moreau children. His smile turned soft, and he pulled Freya into a hug despite the fact that she was probably still sweaty and whatnot. "You can be, Frey. You can be all of that. You just gotta be open with people about what you are and what that means, for you and for them. My friends know what I am. I told Beth real early on what I was, before she even had a thought in her head to love me. I know that what Dad taught you is a lot of subterfuge, and it works great for lurin' prey. But with human relationships, no matter what kind, whether we're talkin' friends or lovers, you gotta be open and honest." Letting her go, he held her at arm's length and looked her over. "You got a good heart. It's why people are gonna love you. I know I do."