one thought, fills immensity.

So no injuries then. Knowing that takes some of the weight off their chest if only a little. Because while nothing may be wrong on a physical level, people don't just show up at your doorstep drenched in the blood of their enemies unless something is wrong. Seeing as he's not in need of any medical attention though, Adrian rises from the floor to instead settle down on the couch beside V.

"You don't look normal."

He looks . . . tired, weighed down by whatever it is he doesn't want to talk about. And Adrian doesn't pry. It's just a quiet observation on their part and their gaze soon shifts elsewhere, content to sit here a while in silence if that's what he prefers. Or perhaps a change in topic works just as well; a distraction.

V is numb to their observative comment. it is not the first, nor the last. set apart from the mocking tongue of strangers and newly deceased colleagues, Adrian meant nothing less than well-intended. as per usual, the truth would soon rear it's ugly little self. his unannounced visit wasn't the red flag, but certainly the amount of blood he took on as accessories; more than usual. from their perspective, there was no alarm of concern as long as he bore no wounds. for now, he took the other's segue to a new topic as a hidden blessing.

❝ tea and a shower, hm.. you pose a compelling offer. ❞ although his preference of coffee was voiced quite often in passing, any suggestion right now was appreciated. after all, these quarters aren't his own and he did barge in without a prior notice. if they prefer he clean himself up, he's under obligation to obey the request at the very least. V stood up from the sofa to do just what is proposed. in his quiet pursuit of it, he looks down to the other with idle expectance.

how fascinating. V’s gaze from a safe distance is careful, quiet and subtle. he almost wanted to laugh at the irony of the other’s words; it hits deep.

❝ dead or alive, some things never change. ❞ what little weight he has, all of it is now shifting to his cane. he didn’t feel weak or much of anything at all for that matter - it’s used as quick and convenient weaponry more than a walking aid, so whether he’s able bodied or not is a nonissue.

V couldn’t contain his own bit of dark humor and entertainment for much longer.. the can of worms were now pried open at this rate. ❝ if you’re ever looking to die in an unconventional way… let’s just say I know a thing or two. ❞

❛ When you have lived as long as I have, death is but a minor inconvenience. ❜

It's late, or rather early in the morning when they notice a presence outside the front door. Although Adrian is hardly unaccustomed to company at odd hours of the day, the sight of V on the other side is . . . unexpected to say the least, let alone the fact he's covered in blood. Layers of it. But wordlessly and without hesitation they guide him past the threshold of the entrance and over to the nearby couch.

Whether it's their home out in the countryside or their apartment here in the city, Adrian always makes a point to be prepared. There's protective covering draped over the cushions where V settles down, for situations just like these. They never know when they'll have to play doctor in the dangerous world they live in.

V's relationship with assistance is unhealthy, almost nonexistent. if it wasn't for the other party's obligation, he could simply thrive without implying it were ever desired; it's always someone else suggesting on his behalf. in the blink of an eye he was already being whisked away for examination and at this point, he just took it. they were entrusted enough to get physical, let alone be one to none of those he would seek hospitality from. they ne'er turn their nose in the face of his vulnerability.

the issue was this: it's not his blood. none of it was, at least not from an outside inspection. if he were injured in battle, the black blood within should have taken care of it. after the one sacrifice made long ago, he was practically hell born but not in the most organic way. the red fluid stained onto his flesh and rags belong to the mortals, or so it did prior to what led up to this moment. the agency adores the facade of treating human casualties like they were nothing to sneeze at. V isn't the hero and reminds them of such. payment is priority, the one and only rule he abides by in the horrid scheme of things.

❝ I feel normal. ❞ a light shrug to top it off. despite his lack of reassurance, he'd allow them to press on as they desire. eventually they'd figure it out, no?

"Hey, care for a flower? It looks like you could use one." The woman spoke up as she reached upon her basket of golden flowers to offer him one. He did appear pretty gloomy...looked like he was keeping to himself as he read through the pages of his book. Aerith couldn't help but to be curious (she had been taking glances now and then during her peddling) and considering it was also part of her job, may as well push some flowers to sell too. "Hm, you do seem like the type to be so...gothic and romantic, right? Maybe you can win a girl over with that kind of charm, a poem and a flower!" It may seem unusual for her to be that brave encountering strangers, yet she just naturally has such a flow of confidence to add on with stubborness.

V wandered into this town rather aimlessly, and now, the amount of locals prying at him to sample their cuisine or purchase "magic items" is an annoyance. in his sought after solitude upon the nearest bench, his right eye twitched as a voice calls to him. he doesn't budge, at first, gaze trained on a page scrawled in foreign languages about purification spells. unhelpful... it wasn't until the stranger continued her pursuit of him that his head tilts upward, a sigh in wake as he shuts the book. does she expect a tip for the kind of service she's providing? not a very sound and solid one, it seems..

❛ I've never heard something more foul in my life. ❜ even someone like him can appreciate the beauty of a flower, but her offer is declined by the wave of his hand. while unamused, he's prepared to be bothered into acceptance at least once if not twice more.