Young Writers Society

He looked down at the cup being offered and tried his best to hide a smirk as he took it. Though the smile might have looked mean or condescending, he was really just amused. It was funny.

"It's fine, thanks." He got out, already focused on guzzling as much as he could from the straw.

As soon as he finished drinking, he set the cup in the sink and walked over to the bedroom, clothes still hugged to his chest. When he was at the door, he thought to turn around and let Griffith know what he was doing- that was the polite thing, right?

"I'm gonna get changed before anything else." He said bluntly. It seemed to be enough for him, and he gave a minute little nod before shutting the door behind him.

Griffith nodded, but Resh was already gone by the time he had reacted. He should have suggested that he would go into the bedroom instead while Resh changed out here. His gaze dropped down to his arm. Even though there was a spell in place to prevent the flow of blood once a limb became severed, he was still worried that a drop of blood had slipped onto the carpet when he was fighting his dresser.

But there was nothing he could do about it if it had, so he tried (and failed) to distract himself by washing the cup that Resh had already finished drinking out of.

Reshiram Morris

A little bit later, Resh stepped out in the clothes that Griffith had given him. He had had more trouble changing out of his costume then he'd have liked to admit. He'd struggled so much at one point, in fact, that he'd seriously debated calling for help.

After silently walking back into the kitchen, he stuffed his ruined suit into the trash and let out a long breath. Finally, he turned and peered at Griffith.

"So." he said softly, all the defense taken out of him. "What's the plan? You wanted to treat my head? Uh- where do you want me to sit?"

He looked around the room, gaze finally settling on the couch.

"The couch is probably the best place," he guessed. He grabbed the first aid kit off of the counter and started to head towards it. "You can sit down on it, and I should be able to easily get your injuries taken care of."

He nodded and gratefully strode across the living room, battling dizziness even as he moved to sit on the couch. Letting out an audible sigh, he closed his eyes for a moment and tried not to think of anything. He was very grateful to have somewhere safe to stay and get treated before he would have to face everything else again- it had been slowly taking a burden off his shoulders.

Suddenly it occurred to him that he hadn't exactly been acting grateful. If he was honest, he was kind of acting like a grumpy jerk (though that was his default).

Awkwardly, he cleared his throat and looked at the ground. "And uh- not sure if I said this before." his voice became even more mumbled, "but- thanks. For helping. I mean."

He faltered as he went to open the first aid kit, not used to being shown gratitude. Those that were like him did show him gratitude from time to time, but hearing words like that from a stranger was something that hadn't happened in a long time. It was only when he had become Griffith Wilde that people had started to like him, and the thought of Resh's reaction if he knew who was tending to his injuries made his hand shake when he went to finish opening the kit.

"You're welcome," he said. "Thanks...Thanks for the thank you."

Reshiram Morris

A furrow formed between Resh's brows as he slouched on the couch, and he frowned. He decided that Griffith's strange response was either due to the fact that he was socially awkward in some way, didn't have a lot of friends, or was surprised that the thank you was coming from Resh.

His head pounded a bit from overthinking this, and he let out a little sigh. All that he had ended up getting from the evaluation was that just maybe he should start treating his rescuer with more kindness. There was nothing to lose from it: he would probably never see the guy again after his wounds were treated and he figured out how to get home.

"Yeah. Course." he managed to get out, rubbing the back of his neck. "I should've, uh- I should have said thank you earlier. Sorry about that."

He bit back a wince. Why did being an okay person have to be so awkward and cheesy?

"It's alright," he reassured Resh as he carefully took out all of the supplies he would need. It wasn't that many, but he didn't want to rush it - he was afraid of what he would have to once he finished helping Resh get patched up. "I would have probably reacted the same if I was getting kidnapped by a stranger, too."

Reshiram Morris

Resh gave a little snort and dipped his head in assertion. He ran a hand though his hair and the smallest of smiles pulled at his lips.

"Yeah, that's fair. Honestly, I'm pretty surprised that this is the first time I've been 'kidnapped'. I mean, it kinda comes with my job description- if you don't really know what you're doing, at least. Which I don't."

This last bit was mumbled abashedly.

"You seemed like you knew what you were doing to me," Griffith shyly said, giving a small smile as he looked Resh over. "...Except for the park where you almost walked out into the street..."

Reshiram Morris

Taken aback, Resh grinned fully in surprise. He had never really been complimented on his heroing before- at least, not by anyone on his team. Jeff had come close to offering encouragement, but Resh's abrasiveness usually tended to be too much, even for him.

Though he liked to pretend that he had fans across New York, or at least civilians who supported him as a superhero, the truth was that his personality just got in the way. There were always heroes who shined brighter, and were easier to like- The Actor, for instance.

He looked down, and fought to gain control of his smile. The air grew uncomfortably warm, and he realized just how unused to compliments he was.

"Thank you." he finally looked back up and nodded, his pale cheeks slightly rosy. "That means a lot."

"You're...You're welcome," Griffith managed to get out, unused to the warm feeling spreading across his cheeks. He had blushed a few times before, but it was never like this.

Hands lingering over the first aid supplies, Griffith turned his head away and tried to fight the redness he knew had to be appearing on his cheeks.

Reshiram Morris

Resh cleared his throat and shook his head a little, battling the compulsion to study Griffith's expression. His eyes fell on the supplies, and how the man's hands shook over them.

"Do you need any help?" he asked softly, pointing to the kit, and then pressing on more abrasively. "I'm okay, really- I think I'm well enough to not just sit here and be useless."

He realized a moment after these words left his mouth that they were laced with bitterness, and the words themselves were the friendliest choice. He hadn't meant it that way at all- it was only out of habit.

He frowned, and started again, his voice much gentler with notable effort.

"I mean, I can- um. I can help. I would like to." he mumbled.

It took some time, but he managed to take care of his concussion with a little bit of help from Resh and his own magic - though he hid the subtle healing spell behind a quick burst of muttering.

Now he was laying on top of his covers, staring up at his ceiling as his body refused to sleep.

Reshiram Morris

Though his concussion had made him sleepy earlier, when it came time for him to make a bed on the couch, Resh wasn't tired at all. He'd laid awake, blankets thrown off of him, and was busy thinking.

He had to get home as soon as possible- however he was supposed to do that. The vilian he had been fighting was still out there, and he had no way of knowing how his co-workers were handling him.

He sighed loudly for another countless time, and turned over again, feeling useless.

Suddenly, something desperate clawed at him, and he stood, leaving his bed things behind.

He had to get out of here, and sooner rather than later. There was no logical reason he should stay in Griffith's apartment rather than try to get home any longer.

With the smallest glance at Griffith's door, he stumbled on the dark until he found the window that led out the fire escape. With near silence, he slipped out into the night.