#adsagona

For a quick trip to the shops, she'd spent an inordinate amount of time choosing an outfit that day. But that was only because it was imaginable that the person who'd given her the tattoo might ask to see it, to check up on it....surely that kind of thing might happen? And if it did, Kit wanted to make sure she was wearing something loose enough to accomdate showing him, if Sihtric was even there, that was - knowing her luck, he probably wouldn't be after all this.

In spite of the fact that she'd only slept for about three hours the previous night, she arrived back at the club looking every inch as perfect as always. Kit never let a late night and busy impact her appearance, to do so would be unprofessional and might be seen as a weakness to others. Besides, the business she had to do today was with someone she actually cared about making a good impression on - and that didn't happen often.

Agron hated this. He hated being bed ridden. He hated being so vulnerable. And he hated the fact that he was limited to one arm. His colleagues had just left after spending some time with it, for it was late and visiting hours were over. Agron had no intention of spending the night here but where his brain protested at the confinements of the hospital, his body did not. He had been with the others evacuating a burning building, but unfortunately, the building did not wait for Agron to be out of it before the roof collapsed. Luckily, the people inside had made it out but Agron had to be dug out from under the rubble. 

He was rushed to he hospital, barley conscious and by the time he was . . . quickly discovered the extent of his injuries. His arm was in a cast, a few of his ribs were broken, and his face and body had several bruises and cuts. His spirit however, was hardly broken. Quite the opposite. He was still determined to get the hell out of here. He glared around the empty room, attempting to sit up to no avail, and his over irritated action caused him to knock out the contents of the side table as it went crashing to the ground. “Fuck!” He cursed with the utmost annoyance. Yes. Agron really, really hated this. 

11. after falling down the stairs

Perhaps Agron shouldn’t have been rushing down the stairs so quickly. He had gotten home later than expected and wanted to quickly tidy up his place before Caz came over. He had cleaned the kitchen, threw his laundry in the hamper but still had to vacuum downstairs. So as he hurried down the stairs with the device, he tripped over the chord and both he and the vacuum went stumbling down the stairs. When Agron landed at the bottom on his back, the vacuum fell onto his leg causing him to cringe in pain at the impact. “Fuck,” he groaned to himself. At least he was still conscious, but he was fairly certain he’d have a nasty bump as a result. 

Taking a few slow breaths to brace himself, he attempted to move, but a blinding pain surging through his foot abruptly stopped him. He only got as far as sitting in an upright position as he looked at his foot. Fuck! He must have either twisted or sprained it . . . or broken it. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. Last thing he needed was to be hobbling around. The knock at his door caused his head to turn towards it, realizing Caz was here and . . . well, Aggie couldn’t move properly right now. He didn’t want his partner to see him like this, but nor did he want to keep him waiting. “It’s open!” He called, hoping he would hear him as Agron attempted to reach for the railing to pull himself up.     

@adsagsona

While the smirk remained on his face, he had to force the expression to remain. A joke. His entire being here seemed to be some sort of joke. But that wasn’t what this was about. Agron knew that, deep down, and thoughts of it caused the smirk to slowly fade, still avoiding eye contact with Charles. “This whole fucking thing is a joke,” he stated, speaking aloud his earlier thoughts. What he knew wasn’t a joke though . . . were these building feelings he was developing for the escort. How, he had no idea. He wasn’t even sure he was ready to admit it to himself. But, he knew they were there. And getting increasingly difficult to ignore. 

Time spent in this place was mostly spent in Charles’ company. And with that, Agron had gotten to know him. In ways that went deeper than a cop and an escort. Yeah. It sure as hell sounded like a fucking joke. “The sooner its over, the better.” But, he didn’t mean it. Of course he didn’t. And he knew it was evident in his tone of voice, despite the content of them. He was attempting to push away the opportunity to ever act on these feelings. A defense mechanism to keep his guard raised when the man before him seemed to so effortlessly lower it. 

@adsagsona