#interactions | sutton.

Being worried sick might have been an understatement right now. First Eli’s being kidnapped, then Andy’s getting arrested, and now Sutton’s almost beat to death by a damn ATF agent. Oliver’s surprised he hasn’t gone into cardiac arrest. Though, he’s spotting a few new silver hairs sprouting through his beard that have made him stupidly panic over the state of his stress and age. Either way, he pads through the hospital waiting room with care, not surprised to see Sutton’s brothers posted in front of her door once he arrives. He puts on that mask, the mask that everyone knows and loves. The classic sweet, humorous Oliver that made people feel better in times of struggles and doubt. The biker turns to Martin now, canting his head to the side. “You know, I heard The Queen of England’s lookin’ for new security. You should fax your resume.” Martin promptly gives him the finger and Oliver playfully smacks his shoulder, carefully heading inside. The sight of Sutton instantly makes his stomach turn and he has to inhale sharply in order to stop himself from punching a wall or crying. Maybe both. Either way, she didn’t deserve this. Especially her. “Hey, killer.” Ollie says with a smile, removing his jacket and setting it down onto the chair just beside her hospital bed. He wants to say the usual — how are you feeling? Are you okay? How did it happen? But he assumes she’s heard enough of that today and he doubts she wants to hear it some more. So he backtracks, taking a seat onto the chair. He digs into his jacket pocket, plucking out a bag of Hershey’s Kisses. He opens up the bag and starts lining some up on the edge of the bed. “These were like crack when I was in the hospital. My mom brought them to me the first time I was admitted. I mean, I was in a psych ward at the time, but still. She brought them to me again when I got shot back in June. Made me laugh. Made me feel better too.”

Truthfully, Oliver had become increasingly surprised by the influx of people who’ve come to visit him. Even his ex came to see him and brought him a sandwich. Granted, Jon brought everyone sandwiches, but this one felt special. But maybe that was the gunshot wound speaking. Though, he can hear his mother’s voice in the back of his head from time to time, begging him to rest. But Oliver was never one to rest, even when he’s so filled to the brim with emotions like he is now. He seems to be hiding it well, though, continuing to joke and be his outwardly charming self. The medication helps him not be so frazzled, which he’s thankful for.

Sutton’s presence earns a sudden but instant smile to decorate his expression, moving to sit up just a tad. He winces as he does so, sometimes forgetting about the dull ache that sprouts through his body and especially his arm. “Fuck.” he mutters under his breath, reaching over to gently career his arm. “Sorry.” It’s said with a laugh, head shaking. “Hey, at least I still got my dancin’ feet, right?” His smile falters a tad, “I’m glad to see you in one piece, darlin’.”