Since Marek had told her he'd be stopping over, Chas was waiting for the knock on the door. Her sister was out at the moment, and Chas had been lounging about in a pair of loose comfortable pants and a shirt that had once been slightly-loose (in Chas' definition of the word) but now was decidedly less so. (You could say she was in pajamas, but pointing it out probably wouldn't be the best idea.)
At the knock, Chas climbed up off the couch and padded barefoot to the front door. The instant she pulled it open and caught sight of Marek, her eyebrow raised. "Well you look horrible," she said bluntly. "Hm, actually, it might be an improvement?" Though her words were dry and teasing, Chas suddenly felt an unusual instinctive urge rise up inside of her. She felt bad for him, wanted to sit him down and heal him, clean up all those cuts and take away the pain.
What the fuck was that?
Instead, she stepped aside to let him come in, then pulled out her wand and summoned a bottle of salve from the other room. "Here," she said roughly, thrusting the bottle at him. "Put some of this on your face, you're scaring my baby."