Taking a drag off his cigarette as he walked, he almost laughed at the taller boy’s words. “Oh yeah, I’m in this for BLOOD. My knife’s just itchin’ to finish what it started.” he replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his switchblade- admiring it as he continued. “Can’t WAIT to see the look on that fat fuck’s face when I finish

As she jeered about the broom, he chuckled again- weight lifted off the hand holding his head, only to use it to reach into his pocket for his wallet. He tossed down eight singles on her end of the counter, flipping his wallet closed and shoving it back into his pocket. "There. The broom, this drink, and your company. Now I'm a payin' customer, sweetheart. How about that?" he said, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he picked up the mug and sipped the hot chocolate gingerly. Truthfully- he just didn't wanna go home. Sure, he could go to the diner. But where was the fun in that?

Listening to her reaction to his question, his smirk pulled slightly wider. "Wow, for once..." he cut himself off as he snickered and shook his head. "Good to know you're the one thinkin' about that." he replied briefly as he winked, watching her gaze as it lingered on the bottle- although it almost looked like she was looking past it. His smirk faded for a moment, thinking to himself and humming quietly. Maybe tonight is about to be more interesting than he thought.

His eyes looked up to Patrick as he approached, looking him over for a moment before picking him up and carrying him downstairs. As he was laid on the bed and covered up, he shifted slightly- the partially-frozen clothing sitting awkwardly against him. His whole body began to defrost, that familiar feeling of pins and needles beginning in his hands and legs. He watched Patrick pace momentarily before his eyes drifted to the wall, a slow exhale leaving his lips. He’s pissed.

As Patrick spoke and he heard his mother give him the bucket, he looked over as the cloth was placed on his head. He inhaled sharply, reveling in the feeling although it felt a bit too warm- he blamed the cold for that. Until Patrick wrapped the washcloths around his feet. He hissed, retracting them as he closed his eyes tightly. He knew the bottoms of his feet were probably torn up, but that hot water felt like it just singed his skin off. Opening one eye slightly, he turned to Patrick as he inhaled sharply. 

His eyes narrowed as Butch dismissed the accusation, tightening his lips into a straight face- he could only listen to his father talk. He knew if he said something now, it would push him too far. Butch mentioned him running off with her- yeah, he'd thought about that too. But she left him there- not giving him a choice, probably for the same reason he resented Henry. As Butch said his final piece and walked out, he felt like he could breathe again. 

He groaned slightly, trying not to use his injured arm as he picked himself up off the floor. Now standing, he disregarded his room and walked to the doorway, pausing to double back for his first aid kit he’d made for himself a while ago. He peeked around the corner, making sure Butch wasn't in sight before making his way to the bathroom quietly. Locking himself in, he just looked down at his arm for a moment- almost amused. God, he could really use that drink now.

Digging through cabinets and drawers, he seated himself on the edge of the tub facing inwards and sighed roughly. Pulling the small garbage can over, he set some rubbing alcohol, gauze, tweezers, and an ace wrap down with the first aid kit on the edge of the tub with him. He removed his shirt, folding it a few times before shoving part of it into his mouth to bite down on. Like a really shitty band-aid. Although this was the last thing he wanted to do, considering it had never been this bad- but what else was there to do? 

"Wow, a little defensive?" he began, stepping a little closer as she continued for a bit. His eyes narrowed, looking her up and down a bit as he took in what she said. He hit his cigarette, smirking as his gaze lingered on her face. She looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he knew her from yet. He shook his head, scoffing at her. 

"Calm down, eh? Why the hell you wandering around the woods for a few days? Back here, too. It's like you fucking wanted my dad to find you." he spoke, digging his boot into the dirt slightly as he glanced at the ground before looking back to her. How long has she been coming back here. Is that why the trail is so worn?