starman / so endeth the lesson.

A small laugh pushes through his throat as he hears Sylvester’s goading. “Do you find that I frequently flash a grin at others? I personally always thought it was a sneer.”

It’s rare to see Richard in such good spirits, so Sylvester decides to ride that wave for as long as he can.

“I know you’re joking.. I hope you’re joking.” He turns his eyes away from Syl and towards the Staff as it warbles. As Syl reassures the Staff, Pat turns his attention back to the matter at hand.

“We’ll figure something out. I heard club soda works to get blood out of things.” He nods as he picks up the gauze and starts wrapping the other’s leg. “Once i’m done here, i’m all your’s. So if you need anything i’m at your beck and call.”

As kind as Pat’s tone is, Sylvester’s expression softens with more than affection. Pat’s always been giving, always cared too much. “Pat...”

He can’t very well take the man out of his headspace while he bandages him up (it isn’t the first time, and it sure as hell won’t be the last), so Syl is quiet for once. He waits until Pat is done, and only then does he straighten his posture and lean forward, hand slipping onto the back of his partner’s neck.

Pat wishes he could take the other to the hospital, but then questions would rise and that’d be a mess on its own, and they didn’t need that. He drops the cotton ball on the coffee table once the cleaning’s finished. He smiles softly at Syl and pats his arm. “You did good.”

He leans over to get a better look. “It looks like it hurts, but overall better than it was looking. It does look like you should’ve went to the hospital. It’s gonna leave a scar. Should I try to stitch it up or just wrap it up?”

“Is it stupid I kinda wanna blast it closed?” Syl asks-- not seriously, of course, but the Cosmic Staff warbles where it’s been hovering nearby in concern all the same. He turns slightly to give it a shake of the head in reassurance, though, and the staff settles with a low whirr.

“Nah, I...” Finally sparing the wound a glance, he winces. “Aw, man, how’re we gonna get all that blood out of the suit?” Then, running a hand down his face, Syl lets his head fall back with a sigh.

“That would require me smiling around others. Not everyone is as charming as you, Sylvester.”

It’s a good thing he’s walking behind him, considering how hard Syl’s trying not to let his whole face split into a grin.

The Shade leaves a faint quirk of the lips as an answer.

“Come now. Let us get going.”

“You are by far one of the strangest individuals I have ever encountered, Sylvester.”

“Fine. We’ll change everything up. Perhaps even perform a seance!”

“You mean in your heart, or in your body?”

Pat shuffles away from Sylvester and soon out of view, before returning shortly and quickly with the first aid kit in hand. “I know, I know. It hurts.” He sits down next to the other. “You did good on your first assignment as Starman, Syl.” 

He pops open the first aid kit and grabs what he needs before setting the kit aside. “This might sting.” He says as he pours rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball. He waits for the other to move his hand before gently cleaning the wound.

“Gghk--!”

The alcohol stings like a bitch, and having never been one to pretend otherwise, Syl’s teeth grit as he snarls from his chest. He’s been shot before, but having rebar both shoved into him and pulled right out had been its own kind of madness-- it’s times like these he wished he could go to the hospital especially.

In Pat’s defence, he’s very careful about it. He does everything right. For that reason, Sylvester keeps his leg as still as he can, even if he looks away to avoid the gore.

When the cleaning’s finished, Syl’s jaw untenses with a click.

“Augh,” Sylvester groans at the press of Pat’s hand, but nods his head at the instruction and presses the jacket down as told. He doesn’t even get to appreciate the view as Pat shuffles away from him-- apparently the pain of getting jabbed in the fucking thigh is more powerful than even his fondness for his partner.

Then again, maybe that’s for the best.

“Of all of the entities you’ve personally encountered, this is what strikes fear into you?”

“Perhaps we should keep it in the spare room should William’s soul still be wandering the halls,” he drones.

As Syl arms himself with religious trinkets, Richard is unable to restrain the roll of his eyes, though, there’s still a fondness to the action. “Where shall we start first?”

He sighs and stares blankly at the man for a long moment. “Would you care to assist me in redecorating if it’s that much of a bother?”

“Sylvester, if the death of someone during my lifetime hindered whether or not I found home, I’d have almost nowhere to live.”

“…”

Dickie….

“I’ve grown rather fond of Zarrick’s old home. I believe I’ll set up shop there.”