Cole wasn't the most optimistic of people, but usually he was good-tempered and managed to maintain his easygoing nature in even the most trying of circumstances. When Shane's teeth sank into his leg that night and he was forced to endure a staple gun and being carried on an ironing board, however - well, that was more than he could take. Nothing but trouble had found him since he moved to Bellum, and he had a feeling it wasn't going to get any better. He was half-convinced he was a bonafide danger magnet, not to mention sick and tired of the kind of crap that went on here. Work had been one of the few sources of normalcy in his life - aside from Ileana - and now even that had been temporarily taken from him because of his own stupid desire to help. Even the friends he'd found in the building weren't faring much better - Sam had brought a girl back from the dead and left with nothing but a note to mark his absence, while Jude had literally decomposed right in front of him. Shane had attacked him twice, Peter had his own problems with Helena and his vampire boss... it just never ended.
He took the painkillers and antibiotics as Micah had instructed, even though he was occasionally tempted to take just a little more to numb the pain. He kept his leg elevated and basically just sat on the couch all day, only getting up if he absolutely needed to.
He was miserable. It took him what felt like a goddamn hour just to get to the kitchen, using a cane one of his coworkers had brought by. Cole knew Ileana was mad at him, and she had a right to be, but the last thing he needed was to be lectured. He already knew he was an idiot.
It took him a few minutes to get from the couch to the door when he heard the knock, pausing to erase any trace of pain from his expression before opening the door.