Masque started at the sound of a thud on his door. Following it was a sliding sound, and another dull thump on his doorstep that brought him rapidly to his feet. Warily, the blonde man stared at the door. Nobody would be out at this hour, unless they were screwing around. The other side of the door was silent, but still, he checked his pocket for a knife, and strode towards it.

Despite his caution, he doubted he was more surprised than Tuna when he pulled the door open. The girl fell backwards sharply, stopped from landing on her back by his shins, and looked up at him. She looked awful - her hair was disheveled, her clothes too, and she was breathing like she'd run a triathlon. Masque raised an eyebrow. "Evening, miss." She closed her eyes in defeat. "Please don't leave me out here."

"...Come on."

Carefully, he helped her limp over the threshold, guiding her towards the kitchen. "The hell happened to you?", he asked at last. Between breaths, she replied, "I was...at the bar...you know, catching...up. Bastard of a guy wouldn't...leave me alone...followed me out. Ran here...closer than...the hotel. Left my car." Carefully, the girl eased into a chair, immediately grabbing her leg. "Ow." Masque frowned. "I'll get us some beer. Don't move."

"Wasn't planning on it."

A moment later, he returned with a haphazard first aid box. Tuna eyed it. "What's in there...more alcohol?" Grinning, he set it on the table and handed her a bottle. She gulped half of it down in thirty seconds. "Not gin, just drugs. Your leg rates what on the pain scale?"

"Around Holy Shit."

"Okay, let's start with that."

"...Kay." Giving him an expression that was half pained, half in-pain, she dropped her hand to her thigh. He was about to turn away when her mouth dropped open in shock. "What's..." His voice faded away when he looked down at her leg, and saw blood seeping through her jeans, staining her palm. "Oh. Damn. That's definitely...uh, top priority." Looking back up at her, he registered that her face had lost about seventy percent of its color. "Come on, T, be a man-"

"I just...never thought it could reopen." His friend's voice was little more than a whisper. Masque bit his lip. "Yeah, don't we all. Get outta your pants." Were it not for the circumstances, he knew she would've laughed. As it were, she just sounded lost. "W...what?"

"I'm gonna have to fix that. You don't have time to drive to the hospital. Trust me, I know my injuries." He knew her eyes weren't just dim from the pangs - loss of blood certainly attributed to that sort of thing. "Now look for some depressants in that box, and finish that beer. You're gonna need all of it."

A fine rain was falling the next morning, when Tuna awoke on the couch. It was the second time it'd happened, but it didn't fail to make her nervous. Not bothering to sit up, thanks to her massive headache, she contented herself with drawing her hands up to her chest and craning her neck to look around the room. It was bright, for possibly the first time since Masque had moved in. The drizzle outside failed to stop a hint of blue sky from shining out of the gray. If they had been in the country instead of the middle of Providence, it would have been captivating. The blonde girl rolled on her side, exhaling slowly. She still felt dizzy, and her leg felt like it had been split even further, instead of sewn up. If the Gods hadn't supervised the whole situation, I would feel like an even bigger pile, she reminded herself.

"You up finally?"

Masque's voice made her start. Cushioning her head against the arm of the couch, she caught site of him standing by the stove. "Thank God I'm not that much of a shit cook, or we wouldn't have anything to eat," he remarked with a smirk upon meeting her eye. She grinned back. "Kay. Jesus Christ, I don't remember much of last night. Leg hurts like a bitch." Masque smiled more broadly, then turned to the oven, on which a frying pan had started to sizzle. "Well, you had bigger balls then I would've, had a part of me been torn open. I fixed you up, and by the end you were practically out of it, so I brought you over there for the night." He failed to mention how he had kissed her on the forehead after setting her down - she remembered that just fine.

Tuna finally found the strength to prop herself up on her elbows and swing her legs over the couch, sitting up with some difficulty. "Augh. My head too." Rubbing her brow, she watched Masque in silence - an easy thing with his back turned to her. At last, he pivoted around with a plate of omelettes in hand. "Eat it or I'll kill you." Tuna shrugged. "If it doesn't kill me first."

"So I guess you're going back for your car?"

"Mmf. Yeah." Tuna swallowed another bite of her breakfast, nodding distractedly. "Michael and Auriea, this is good." Masque grinned broadly. "I try." He was sitting in the worn armchair set perpendicular to the couch, his elbows on his knees and his jaw in his hands, looking at her. "You, uh, want me to come with you or anything?"

"Babe, you've done enough. Trust me." They laughed, quietly, making the room seem all the more warm. Tuna slid her plate onto the coffee table and leaned back, rubbing the spot on the blanket underneath which her leg was itching. "Hey, uh. You got any pants I can borrow?"

He laughed again, much more loudly, thank the Gods. "Yeah, actually. They'll be a bit big on you." He stood up, not bothering to grab her plate. "One more thing. How the hell did you get that scar in the first place?" His expression was teasing, as usual, but the girl heard the real curiosity in his tone, and she looked up at him. "One job I was on, a long time ago. I had one of the guys in a headlock, but I guess I thought the other would try and rescue his partner...he kicked me off a speeding van. Bone cut right through." The limb sent out another burst of pain at the mere memory of it, and she cringed. Masque raised an eyebrow, but retreated into the bedroom. There was the sound of drawers being heaved open, and shut rapidly. Tuna couldn't hold back her smile. When he reappeared, she remarked, "Sounds like your organization skills haven't changed." He narrowed his eyes. "You haven't gotten much different, either, miss." Throwing the jeans over the couch back, he came back around and held out his hand to her quite suddenly. "I think I've paid back a little of what I owe you with this, hmm?"

"I guess. But, you know, I still gotta thank you." Meeting his firm grip with an even stronger one, she pulled herself upright, exhaling sharply at the reaction her stitched leg gave. Masque frowned. "You know, you shouldn't be moving at all right now-"

She silenced him with a look. "Actually, I was gonna give you the keys and wait for you outside." He paused, then smirked, replying, "How do you know you'd ever see yer truck again?"

"Because you have a way sexier car than mine, making it pointless to steal that piece of junk. And against my better judgement, I do trust you. A little." Gingerly, she took a step forward, fishing in her pocket for the keychain she heard jingling inside. The blonde man waited patiently, then snatched the thing from her fingers, smiling. "You'll find out if you're judging me right in a few minutes."

A few minutes came and went. She was. Her friend helped her to her car, leaning against the back end and looking around the parking lot once she'd opened the door. "Rest of your vacation's gonna suck, I bet." She grinned, resting one shoulder against the faded metal, and answered, "Naw. Key's gonna wait on me hand and foot. Hopefully."

"Well, thanks for making my night." He turned his head and looked her in the eyes, smiling a real smile. Odd for him. Tuna rolled her eyes. "Thanks for helping me not be permanently crippled, or something." A wink of expectant silence followed - then she leaned forwards and kissed him. Full on, for once in her life. His kiss was certainly good, not hungry or desperate - just at peace. It took most of her willpower to pull back, and the rest not to stand there and stammer like an idiot. Instead, smiling knowingly, Tuna hoisted herself into the front seat and slammed the door, offering one final quip for him to laugh at.

"You still owe me."