The Dark Knight Rises[[Open]]

[Delilah A. Black]

He squeezed her hand again and she found that her smile stretched a little further. She could have sugar coated what happened, or at least skimmed over some of the grittier details: those tended to make people uncomfortable. But after what they'd been through over the last day or so, not telling him the whole story would have made her seem ungrateful. And she was very grateful towards Marcus: despite the getting her ass kicked part, this had been the most fun in recent memory for the mechanic. The man sure knew how to show a girl a good time.


"Alright. You should go shower. I'm gonna see if a nice nap will be just what I need to get me on my feet and at least shuffling around. Gonna have to zombie walk for a few days after this......Hey, could you put on another pot of soup for me before you go? I can feel my appatite starting to wake up again."

She nodded and got to her feet slowly, wincing. "No problem. I'll have it for you when you're ready." Her eyes changed slightly as she looked him over, somewhat...appraisingly.

Right, so, cold shower.

"If you need clothes, yours are ruined. My dad's old stuff should be in the closet over there," she would look towards the far wall where the walk-in closet was. "The pants and everything should fit fine, but the shirts might be a bit....snug." She gave him another once over, her gaze lingering as her eyes slowly moved downwardBUT THEN she turned from him abruptly, as if catching herself.

THE COLDEST SHOWER.

"There's a crutch by the door if you need it. Just don't leave the house. It'll explode if you do." she said this with a laugh in her voice as she walked as steadily as she could towards the door, but she was only half kidding. It only exploded if you tried to get in from the outside. Delilah looked over her shoulder at him as she was in the doorway, smiling in an unsure way. "I'll be here when you wake up. 'Night."

Without closing the door, (which was fine since there was still no electricity at this point to disturb him with light), she left the room only to stop a little ways down the hall to bang her head against the wall a few times.

Delilah finished making her way slowly downstairs to the kitchen where she fixed up another can of soup for Marcus by candlelight. She set the soup to simmer on the battery operated stove she rigged herself a couple years earlier and walked to the downstairs bathroom. She lit a few more candles and stood there for a moment, lamenting the lack of shower curtain. Oh well, she'd just have to make this quick. She didn't want to go back upstairs and potentially disturb Marcus. Besides, taking a shower in the vicinity of the man? Talk about tempting fate.

"Ice. Ice showers." she murmured to herself, shaking her head clear again as she stripped down to nothing and untied the bandage covering the wound on her leg. She winced at the sight of it. It was seeping a bit, and she could tell it was infected even in the dim lighting. That wasn't surprising, though. The barbed wire probably wasn't sterilized before Grudge wrapped it all over his weapon.

She'd turn on the shower and climb in, grabbing a loofah and vigorously scrubbing herself clean all over (a process that made her whimper pathetically and brought tears to her eyes), cleansing her hair with some designer name shampoo her mother had left behind that made her smell like a raspberry. She washed out the wound on her calf again and watched as the runny blood gathered and swirled down the drain. Very charming.

Her cleansing ritual completed, she sat down in the tub and let the water wash over her. It was oddly reminiscent of earlier that day when she had been out training by herself in the rain. She had been marveling at the healing and destructive capabilities of water, of all things that flow. Time flows the same way, she realized. It slows down when we least want it to, it speeds up when we want a moment to last. Her moment with Stu might well be over...she hadn't heard from him in five years, and there was a very real possibility that he might be dead. And now there was an amazing man right in front of her sending all the right signals. Hell, she knew she liked him and that was enough to consider starting something.

But something was still holding her back. Something she couldn't...no, didn't want to place. Not now. She just wanted to enjoy the moment as long as she could, enjoy being pursued and flirting and giving it right back.

Delilah sighed, curling in on her self in an upright ball, closing her eyes. Nothing is ever easy, is it?

[Marcus Prasad]

"If you need clothes, yours are ruined. My dad's old stuff should be in the closet over there. The pants and everything should fit fine, but the shirts might be a bit....snug."

"No shirt, no shoes, no convalescence."
He laughed at that, not really knowing why.
The image of him flexing and ripping the shirts like the increadible Hulk might have had something to do with it. His laughter ended with a wheeze of pain, a reminder of how banged up he really was.

"There's a crutch by the door if you need it. Just don't leave the house. It'll explode if you do. I'll be here. Night."

Now THAT was taking home security to the next level. It took Marcus a moment of thought before he decided it might have been a joke.
"Heh, no worries Lilah. I'm not exactly going anywhere anytime soon. Night, and thanks again."

He waited until she was safely out of earshot before letting out a drawn out sigh and a low choking laugh. Poor girl! She had to hae been in her early twenties and yet here she was acting like a teenage girl eyeing up her first crush. Not that he minded her looking him over like a piece of fine chocolate, but it certainly made him wonder how a girl as agonizingly attractive, smart, witty and.....yeah, cookey as her could have so little experiance when it came to the opposite sex?

'Oh look who's talking you fucking hypocrite! After Kelsie you were a train wreck of bad first impressions!'
Which was true, unfortunatly. Kelsie had been his only love through high school. WHen he broke up with her, he found the dating scene to be a brutaly unforgiving place for the longest time. In fact it wasen't until he began his decade long travel spree with Lady at his side that he began gaining experiance and moving onto the second date. Which due to his nomading nature at the time, was usualy the end of it. Every other girl wanted Marcus to settle down, but like the bikers in all those cool 50's era movies, he just couldn't stop riding on to the next city.

Marcus found himself smiling. She was enjoying the game, but he could tell she was having trouble making up her mind whether she wanted to go all in on this particular poker game. Which made things rather complicated because like all wolves, Marcus mated for life. He had been through enough one night stands from Dublin to Moscow that he knew for a fact how much it hurt him to say goodbye when he got emotionaly invested.

So he would continue playing this game of courtship, knowing full well that if she chose to wait for her husband, that she would need the confidence and skill just in case it turned out he wasen't comming home again. Still, the way she smiled at him certainly made his heart beat faster. It would be nice to wake up to that every morning........

Taking a deep breath, listening to the sounds of the raindrops outside, how they collided with the walls of the house he currently resided in, listening to the pot on the stove and the thrum of Delilah's shower, Marcus closed his eyes and concentrated. From his minds eye he replayed the entire escapade from the point where they were first ambushed to now. Like an editor looking over footage, Marcus analyzed every move he made with a clinical eye, from all angles. Every punch, kick and snap decision was scrutinized like math equations as he picked out every wrong answer and worked the problems through, trying to decipher the correct answer.
With experiance came wisdom and despite his muscles, athletic endurance and grit, his true strength came from his ability to learn and overcome at an outstanding rate. Everyone who had ever fought him more than once all agreed, Marcus always got smarter, faster, stronger each and every time at a most terrifying rate like some Martial Prowess arms race.

A lesson Arkham will learn soon enough if the two of them ever crossed paths again.

Oh that was a fight he was certainly looking forward to. Arkham was dangerous. Not quite at his level of course, he would have pasted the smug bastard if it wasen't for his wounds, but smart enough and charismatic enough to raise quite a surprisingly large force for a simple tribe leader. The fact that he singled Marcus out made him suspicious. Why him? What made him warrent such attention?

There he would sit, lost in thought. Eyes closed, breathing deeply with his hands on his lap. This would be how Delilah would find him when she came back from the shower.

[Delilah A. Black]

After a little while longer than she probably should have (she was starting to get a bit pruney), she turned off the shower and got out slowly. Her joints groaned in protest as she dried off and dressed herself again in the jeans and sweater she had on before. Delilah redressed her wound and put more antiseptic on it than was probably necessary, but penicillin was hard to come by and she was overly cautious by nature.

She combed her fingers through her wet hair and dug around in the drawers by the sink, looking for a hair clip or anything she could use to tie back her hair. After a few minutes of searching, she came up with a red ribbon, one she had used when she was younger and still had red streaks in her hair.

Feeling a little nostalgic, she tied her hair back with the ribbon and went into the kitchen, padding on bare feet towards the stove. The sky was still dark outside, and rain was pattering once again against the window panes. The soup was finished, and at just the right temperature, too. She poured the broth into two cups and started her slow ascent up the stairs. Now that the urgency of last night had passed, she was far less nimble. She was only twenty-three, but Christ, the last eight or so hours made her feel old. So old. That was probably because she was so tired, having only slept for forty five minutes in total before getting right back to nursing Marcus back to semi-aliveness.

Having finally made it up the stairs, she would stop as she approached the room, her head cocked to one side. Something was happening inside the room she had left Marcus in. It wasn't bad, it wasn't alarming, it was just...different. It was almost like a pressure, one she understood on a level that she knew but couldn't quite explain. Curious, she poked her head in the room.

Marcus was exactly where she left him, only he seemed to be deep in meditation of some kind. She wondered if he knew just how much external pressure he was exuding as he did so? Geez, this guy had a lot of energy. Also, this was a damn good idea!

She walked quietly up beside him and gently placed his cup down on the nightstand beside him. She would then walk over to the other side of the bed and clamber on top of the covers. She'd sit up beside him and close her own eyes, slipping into the kind of meditation that focused on her surroundings, her breathing falling in time with Marcus', the warm soup clutched in her hands, just simply...being.

It was nice, refreshing. It brought her back to centre and it was even better that she could share something on this deep a level with him. But she would remain silent and still until he spoke, simply content with the moment and its simplicity.

[Marcus Prasad]

For awhile the two would remain as they were. Marcus having drifted off to sleep where he half sat with feet outstretched and back against the headboard. He would not dream for he was still too exhausted. Eventualy he would awaken to the sight of Delilah at the end of the bed and for awhile he would just watch her, taking in the smoothness of her skin, the silkyness of her raven black hair and those KILLER curves. She was slender though, but not skinny. Lean, like a well honed knife.
Most men liked thier women docile, at least as far as Marcus has seen. He himself on the other hand always prefered them with a decent dose of danger.

"Dangerous. In more ways than one."
Marcus would purr before smelling the soup. This one was still hot! Two treats in one, a good meal and a nice view. Pulling the bowl close to his chest, he began to dig in, feeling strength flood hot through his veins with each spoonful.
He ate quietly, not wanting to disturb her. Well, if there was any reason to want to work for the Crows full time, the chance to work alongside her would definatly be one of the big ones.

[Delilah A. Black]

Delilah hadn't been able to completely fall asleep, so immersed was she in her meditative state. With each slow breath, she expanded her view outward, trying to pick out everything all at once. It was like stepping outside your own mind and living in the world around you for a moment without anything held back. It was pure, honest.

One thing about honesty, especially this kind, was that it made you vulnerable and exposed your bare soul without any walls. Which was why, when Marcus began to stir, she could sense when he opened his eyes and found her there, how they wandered her shamelessly, heard him mutter to himself as if he were speaking it right in her ear. It made him honest too, even as she explored him with her minds eye, satisfying her curiosities. It was...enthralling to experience, especially when she appeared to be asleep and unaware.

A good ninja is always aware.

She waited until he had started his soup before receding back into her pain addled body, finding it warm under Marcus' eyes. She felt refreshed and relaxed, more so than she could have if she had simply gotten some rest (which she still needed to do, but all the thoughts whirling through her head would probably prevent that until she crashed). Still, she betrayed nothing, not even a hint that she was actually awake and fully aware.

Until juuuust the right moment.

"You know, it's hard to sleep when you look at me like that." she'd quip, keeping her face as smooth as marble even with the lilt of laughter in her voice.

[Marcus Prasad]

Juuuust at that right moment, Marcus was about to take another spoonful of soup. He choked and sputtered in surprise! Well shit, he didn't even see her twitch a muscle! Was she awake the entire time? Hell, it took him being this exhausted and physicaly damaged just to be able to sit still this long, or else he would be fidgeting like crazy by now.

Feeling Impish, Marcus stuck his tongue out at Delilah, wondering if she would notice that too.

Well, if she was comfortable enough to handle his gaze, then it was time to up the ante alittle. From impish to Mischevious, the man would slowly creep his foot close to Delilah.
"You know what makes it even harder to sleep?"
He would say with a sly grin before reaching out with his foot from under the covers and pinching Delilah in her midrift with his first two toes. A Strange genetic quirk allowed Marcus and most of the men in his family on his fathers side to twist the first two toes on each foot into an almost pincer-like claw. Primarily Marcus, his father and his brothers used this neat gift to absolutly torment each other when they were all sitting on the couch watching TV. His father always retaining his title as pincher champion, able to tickle you to death one minute, and leave nasty black bruises the next.

Here, Marcus was traveling the tickle to death route, aiming specificaly for a spot in the abdomen that would startle and jolt, but not harm.

[Delilah A. Black]

She chuckled devilishly as he sputtered and coughed on his soup, her stony mask cracking as she raised her own cup up to her lips and drank it down. It was cool enough that she did it in one motion as the warm broth slid down to her stomach, warming her from the inside out. Still, she kept her eyes closed..her eyes were just so damn heavy. So, she didn't notice him stick his tongue out at her, but she could sense that his own mischievous side was responding in kind with hers.

"You know what makes it even harder to sleep?"

She raised an eyebrow, but remained stationary with a casual little smirk on her lips. Oh, she would be ready for what ever he had coming.

Now, Delilah had been thinking more on the lines of a tackle into a wrestling match (which, given their individual states, would probably be a bad idea), a comment filled with innuendo, or a pillow in the face. But no. No no. What she got was the one thing that got her every time. ...Provided someone got a hold of her or caught her off guard long enough to do so.

The instant Marcus started tickling her, Delilah's eyes would snap open and she would immediately begin to giggle in the shrill, panicky sort of way that anyone who is chronically ticklish does, kicking her feet sideways to propel herself along the bed and away from Marcus' weird foot and falling off the bed on the side opposite Marcus.

She would lie there unseen for a moment before speaking. "Oh, now that was playing dirty right there. OW by the way." But she said it good naturedly. Laughing still hurt. Falling off the bed hurt. It made sense.

[Marcus Prasad]

MISCHIEF MANAGED!

Marcus was giggling like an evil little demon child as he tickled Delilah, giggles which turned into gut clenching guffaws that left him wheezing after she fell off the bed. He did feel kind of bad about that but god DAMN was it funny!
"YES! NOONE CAN STAND UP TO THE POWER OF PINCER FEET!"

"Oh, now that was playing dirty right there. OW by the way."

Marcus smiled his cheshire cat smile as his laughter slowly subsided.
"All's fair in love and war little Lilah dear. Gotta admit though, I almost popped a bloody stitch."
He said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye.
"Oh I haven't done that in years. C'mere, I wanna do it again!"
He challenged, holding his bare foot out and making pinching gestures with it.

[Delilah A. Black]

"You keep that thing away from me!" she laughed, pulling herself to a kneeling position beside the bed, propping up her head on her elbows as she looked at him. "And if you pop a stitch, I will fix it, but I'll do it Dora style."

And by Dora, she meant the constantly irritated Militia/Crow member who was apt to stab her patients with her ever present scalpel while putting them back together at the same time. One of Delilah's only female friends.

"Think you're rested enough to try walking now?"

[Marcus Prasad]

"Dora style? Like what, in spanish? You wouldnt look good in a bowl cut anyway I dont think. Looks like that one killer dude from No country for old men. Still, the way you say it makes me think Mad doctors and pizza saws. Tomatoe paste all over the walls like."
Marcus rambled on in classic Marcus style which was a surefire way of telling how comfortable he was becomming around her. The more relaxed he became, the more his boyish tendancies would begin to float to the surface.

"Think you're rested enough to try walking now?"

Marcus would nod, that grin never leaving his face. A Glean would appeare in his eyes as if this was a challenge he couldn't wait to overcome.

"Mind passing me the crutch? God, this is just like that one time I nearly tore all the muscles in my body once. Walked with a damn cane for a month."
Suddenly Marcus looked sheepish.
"Yeah.....I don't exactly take good care of myself....."

'Dude, Less about you, More about her!'

"Hey Delilah? Something I wanted to ask you actualy. When I saw Grudge Hulk slam you into the ground, I gotta dmit, I was already writing your obituary pretty much. But then you came up and you were all.....metaly....metal like. Like Metal. Is that more of that...Qi thing I keep hearing about?"

[Delilah A. Black]

"Mind passing me the crutch? God, this is just like that one time I nearly tore all the muscles in my body once. Walked with a damn cane for a month."

Already half way towards grabbing the crutch for him, Delilah would look back at Marcus with her eyebrows raised in surprise. How in the hell did he manage that?!

To his credit, though, he looked sheepish, as though it weren't a big deal but he also didn't regret it. She admired that. SHE WAS STARTING TO ADMIRE A LOT OF THINGS.

"Yeah.....I don't exactly take good care of myself....."

"You and me both." she said with a groan and rubbed her aching shoulder again. She brought the crutch over to where Marcus was at the bed and sat down with him there, ready to help him on his feet.


"Hey Delilah? Something I wanted to ask you actualy. When I saw Grudge Hulk slam you into the ground, I gotta dmit, I was already writing your obituary pretty much. But then you came up and you were all.....metaly....metal like. Like Metal. Is that more of that...Qi thing I keep hearing about?"

Delilah blinked in surprise. Had she turned on her Qi? She didn't remember...but she remembered being very angry. When she got angry, she tended to do things she couldn't recall. But he described her Qi pretty much perfectly. That plus the anger certainly fit the bill.

In reply, Delilah held up her hand and, with a slight whimper of pain, let all her anger flow through her at once. It radiated from her in a kind of aura of pure malicious intent, though she herself remained calm, if a little pained. Slowly, a silver-like substance began forming on the surface of her skin, molding and shaping itself to fit her hand like a second skin, completely coating the appendage up to her elbow. She rapped her knuckles against the metal part of the crutch and a sound pealed through the air, a clear, bell like note. She held it out for him to touch. The metal would be as cool and solid as one would expect: at this level, her Qi permeated down through the bone.

She released her Qi with a wince, and just like that, the fury she had summoned evaporated. It normally wasn't painful, but the metal had been seeping through her injuries and that hadn't been fun. "I discovered it when I was fifteen. I got in a fight at boarding school and wound up getting surrounded by a few people who actually sort of knew what they were doing. I didn't have too much experience then, and I really didn't want to hurt anyone at the time, but they had me where they wanted me and I started to panic. Then I realized that freaking out about this was absolutely stupid because I was better than that. Then I got angry. Then this stuff appeared. I broke at least one bone on all of them after that."

She grinned wryly at herself. Ah, memories.

[Marcus Prasad]

Seeing the look of shock and surprise on Delilah's face confused Marcus. He had always thought everyone had wrecked themselves at least once in thier life.
'It's surpisingly easy if you find yourself in a stupid situation. Or overwork yourself. Or Find yourself running though half of Manhattan carrying a good friend of your's who had just vomited up blood just after you had finished having a duel with her in the middle of Central Park, in the vain hopes that you can get her to a hospital before anything serious happened which is kinda a stupid situation coupled with overworking yourself in the perfect storm of muscle tearing.'

Hey look! She just made herself all shiney! The amount of black anger Deliliah was throwing off had brought his hackles up though, telling him to keep away at an instinctive level. Unfortunatly his body reacted by dumping adrenaline into his bloodstream which began to make him twitchy, not knowing whether it needed to fight or flight. It took a couple of deep breaths before he managed to get himself back under control.

Still, in amazed him and he gazed upon her metalic flesh in wide eyed wonder. Like a kid going to the aquarium for the first time.
"I gotta admit this is the first time I really seen...I mean we just didn't have stuff like this back in New York."
Which was kind of a relief actualy. Marcus could name plenty of people back in 552 whom he would rather NOT be able to LITERALY become the man (or woman) with the iron fists. Or Affect gravity, or Insta heal, or Bend time and space or whatever else voodoo shit Qi users could do.
"Some pretty heady stuff I gotta admit. S'like you guys are walking super hero's or something!"

Pulling the bedsheets towards himself, Marcus folded it in half and draped it awkwardly around his waist and cinched it off before taking the crutch in both hands. After a few steady breaths his muscles shifted and bulged as he fought to rise. His first attempt at getting to his feet was shakey at best and if Delilah tried to help, he would gently wave her off.
"Sorry. Pig headed pride at it's best. Just....catch me if I topple please."
Each attempt left him light headed and fatigued and yet even as his body became coated in a sheen of sweat and grime, he eventualy dragged his sorry self up to his feet and began to wobble for a moment before lurching forward into his first step.

"Phase one, complete!"
He exclaimed through gritted teeth as he fought for balance. His legs felt like undercooked noodles and kept threatening to buckle underneath him. His mouth split into a fierce smile.
"Notoriously. Hard. To kill."
And then he took another step, and another and before long, he was slowly shuffling in a circle in the middle of the room. Stopping for a moment to ease his swimming vision before starting up again.

It was embaressing though, looking so feeble before her. Marcus hated people seeing him like this. Weak. Pitiful. Pacing around the living room like an old man with a half hanging blanket wrapped around his hips. It was also why he HATED hospitals.
It just kept reminded him of all the times he or his friends were put in intensive care.

"So I think....for our next date....Mabey bowling. Yeah, with machine gun nests and Chainsaw motorcycles......"
He said with a wink and a smirk.
"With clowns juggling hand grenades!"

[Delilah A. Black]

"I gotta admit this is the first time I really seen...I mean we just didn't have stuff like this back in New York. Some pretty heady stuff I gotta admit. S'like you guys are walking super hero's or something!"

"It's more common out here for some reason," she agreed with a nod. It was almost like 259 was built to house the lot of them, the way one would try to cull a group of dangerous wild animals.

Delilah watched him wrap the sheet around his waist and swore silently at herself. She had forgotten about the him not having clothes thing. She had just been so...distracted.

Distracted by what exactly?

She suppressed a strange shudder.

Everything

She came back to the world as Marcus tried to get to his feet, holding out her hands to brace him. "Here, let me--"

"Sorry. Pig headed pride at it's best. Just....catch me if I topple please."

Delilah wanted to help him...seeing him like he was reminded her of when she had just gotten out of the mental asylum and had been forced to walk a kilometre a day. She knew it wasn't easy, and she certainly hadn't wanted any help. But she knew that in spite of how hard it was that there was something to be said of relying on your own strength. And it was important to him, so she let it go, folding her hands in her lap to prevent fidgeting.

It took a while, but that was by no means surprising. He had take quite a beating and, combined with the heavy blood loss he sustained, it was a wonder he could stand at all. She admired that sort of tenacity, and it brought a smile to her lips. Finally he got to his feet, and Delilah grinned as she got to her feet.

"Hard to kill indeed," she agreed with a slight purr that came from nowhere.

She stood nearby as he shuffled around the room, groaning and aching all over. More so than she was at any rate, which was even more impressive.

"So I think....for our next date....Mabey bowling. Yeah, with machine gun nests and Chainsaw motorcycles......With clowns juggling hand grenades!"

She laughed at that, "And not just any clowns. Stephen King clowns. With a hint of Lovecraft thrown in."

Another little known fact about Delilah was that she was a literary buff. It was part of her training in a lot of ways, but mostly, she did it for the enjoyment of it.

"But before we start planning, maybe you better put some clothes on?" she nodded at the closet and sat back on the bed, smirking up at him.

[Marcus Prasad]

{OOC} Ack! I keep forgetting to write how much pain he was in >_< {OOC}

Pins and needles, pins and needles. It was like trying to move when you're bones were made of broken glass and your muscles out of rusted sheet metal. Marcus hid it as best he could like a wounded Zebra trying to trick a Lion, but it was taking it's toll and it could be seen on his face with every wince and shuddering gasp.

"And not just any clowns. Stephen King clowns. With a hint of Lovecraft thrown in."

Oh yeah, she was a keeper all right. Any girl with a geek streak that long was! He laughed then, sending a jolt of pain from his abdomen up through his throat.
"If it's Pennywise then it's more than a hint. Tim Curry Ry'leh!"

"But before we start planning, maybe you better put some clothes on?"

Marcus raised an eyebrow to that and smirked.
"Obviously you have never heard of a sulu. Heh, Ajee.....ermmm, my grandma used to pick them up for me and my brothers. It's a Fijian skirt that's largly unisex. Kind of like a kilt without the no girls allowed rule. Usualy has embroidery on it. Usualy."

'There you go meathead, trying to impress her with you're worldly knowledge and such.'

Still, this wasen't Fiji and it was getting cold. So Marcus offered a hand to Delilah and began to walk towards the closet. He knew he should shower first, but since a young age, the man had a strange taboo when it came to showering with such wounds. It started when one day he took a bath with a cut on his leg. It was bandaided of course, but the water caused the bandaid to slip off and the wound started bleeding again. Marcus had panicked and when his brothers caught wind, well lets just say the following pranks didn't help with his issue.

We all have our own little neurosis'

Even walking this short a distance was draining. Still, it was a victory! he couldn't have done it without Delilah being there though. One would be very surprised to know how far a man would go to impress a girl he fancied.
'A Girl with a husband don't forget. Albiet "in absentia".'
Still, that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the moment right? And that was what he was all bout after all!

"Lesse what we got here, huh? Oh! cool sweater. Jeans? eeeeh, they look kinda small. Sweatpants. Know what? I'm feeling casual. I like wearing the stretchy pants! It's for fun.
Oh god I just realized I gotta patch my jacket up. Urgh."
Mindful of the fact that the clothes were her fathers, Marcus made sure to keep everything neat and tidy as he looked through the racks. Whereas if it were his own house, he would have been tossing the clothes around the room as if it was abstract art before settling on what he wanted.

Suddenly Marcus' strength would wane and he would topple forward, shooting his hand out to brace himself against a wall. The painful jolt in his elbow caused it to buckle, forceing him to hit the wall with his shoulder to keep from falling. The pain resonated throughout his body and he grimaced and groaned and began to curl up into himself while standing, which was as awkward as it sounded. This time, he wouldn't resist any help if Delilah offered it. His knuckles white as they gripped the crutches.

[Delilah A. Black]

She listened to him describe what a sulu was (of course, her mind jumped vaguely to Star Trek. She shook this thought away: Christ she was tired) with a raised eyebrow and a puzzled smile. He knew such strange things, but she found herself liking that. It was like the odd mismatch of his hair colour and his deeper skin tone: odd, but it fit together nicely.

She watched him go into the closet and rifle around in there for a bit, smiling wider as he talked to himself to find what he was looking for. She would have offered to help Marcus repair his jacket, but Delilah was absolutely horrible at sewing (as was evidenced by the stitching she had done on Marcus).

She heard a dull thud and a gasp of pain come from within the closet. Alarmed, Delilah was on her feet before she knew what she was doing, was at his side a moment later. She ignored the loud angry protests coming from her injuries as she reached under Marcus' free arm and pulled it across her shoulders to give her most of his weight. She winced suddenly at the pain it caused her and her legs began to shake a little. Disgusted with herself, she ignored it and looked sideways at Marcus, one arm wrapped around his back and the other hanging onto his arm. She groped around his back for a moment, minding his wounds but feeling at his considerable musculature, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Your muscles are too tense." she told him, starting to lead him back to the bed. "You put too much strain on them. They need to be stretched and loosened up."

Provided he didn't resist, she would deposit him on the bed again, rolling him so he was face down. Once there, she would immediately begin massaging his back with strong, steady hands. One beneficial thing about her training that didn't involve killing people was her intimate knowledge of the body and how it could be effected for better and for worse. Using a delicate pattern of pressure points, warming the ligaments with her hands, and kneading out the kinks.