#v7w3

Thereze walked into her apartment as calm as she usually did, locking the door behind her and hanging her coat on the hook. Blood dripped every few steps as she made her way into the kitchen. She had learned long ago that it was easier to place medical items here; the bathroom was small, and further away. 

Her vision was out of focus slight from the pain throbbing all down her arm. Carefully, she pulled out the black kit from its hiding place and set to work. 

The wound was her worst in months. Thereze winced often as she cleaned it, assessing the damage beneath the twisted skin and dried blood. The center of her hand was about the worst place Albert could have targeted. 

So of course he had enjoyed it immensely. 

She swabbed it with alcohol, readying a needle and thread. Thereze blocked out the pain as she worked, maneuvering the needle in and out of her skin, slowly closing up the top side of her hand so that it was recognizable once more.

Dozens of times she had worked to heal her own wounds this way. Enough for it to no longer faze her, though that was already harder to do with her compared to others. As she concentrated, her vision cleared, but her mind eventually wandered. 

( Thereze was fifteen when she first stitched a wound of her own. 

A jagged knick across the ribs. The bastard was cruel. She had been scared, then, shaky hands doing a poor job of it in the back of a car. Thin trails of blood still seeped through. And yet, the nurse who treated her after was impressed that she had managed that much. )

Finishing, Thereze turned her hand over, and sighed in disappointment at the sight of it. She threw the stained towel in the sink, the cool counter a comforting reprieve for her skin. She carefully cleaned and started closing up the rest of the wound.

( When she was nine, Thereze was already helping patch up others.

Their front door might as well have been a revolving one, for how often it was opened as refuge. There was never a chance that blood could surprise her. Dated cartoons and cliched films ran in the background as her mother helped those bruised and battered for a small fee. Thereze would sit like a good girl, waiting for the commands to hand over utensils, towels, medications. All the while peeking back at that lively television screen. )

Thereze carefully cleaned her apartment when she was done wrapping her hand with gauze. She replaced her medical kit where it had been, tossing the towel Albert had left her with. Each time she moved her hand, the reminder of the weakness made her more angry.

She needed Albert to have been honest with her, about the blood that would heal her. In terms of repercussions, she was already getting off lightly. But without the addition of that blood, Thereze knew she wouldn’t be able to lift her katana for a long while. 

It was early in the afternoon when Thereze had a knock on her apartment’s door and found someone on the other side with a note. She knew immediately that it was Albert’s doing; he liked to be almost grandiose like that. She frowned at the words that simply asked her to go to his restaurant later, but she nevertheless complied, willing away with tasks such as cleaning her blades until the clock ticked five.

Thereze waited a few days after receiving the notice from Continuance before acting. She didn’t want to seem overeager at all to be working in this city again, despite the fact that she very much was. She liked this city, not places like Moscow. 

The shop on the outside looked the same as it had in the photograph she had been given, not surprisingly. Thereze had dressed more casual, and adopted an easy semi-smile when she walked in. All the plan for today was to talk to this Henry Escott, feel him out. Hopefully find a trigger to lure him into Continuance with, so that absolute force could be ruled out.

Thereze returned to NYC with her head held high. She knew that being sent somewhat abruptly from Albert’s side was not a favor, but a punishment. Albert didn’t do favors unless he had a plan to use them, later, and that wasn’t necessary with her. Anyway, the punishment did not matter, because it had cleared her head. Thereze was not one for pouting.

She took a taxi to the headquarters in Hartsdale, planning to check-in in person for once. She walked in with her hands in the pockets of her long coat, originally destined for the front desk before veering off when she saw Charles Collins boarding an elevator. Thereze saw him as she did most other CC members; with indifference.