Joseph Tropiano (luckandchance) wrote in low_tide, @ 2009-11-26 22:29:00 |
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Current mood: | mellow |
Wind Down
The room was dark, pitched into shadow, until a switch was flipped and it was bathed in bright artificial light, revealing the man shedding layers in his travels towards the bathroom. It wasn’t long until he was left in nothing more than a pair of jeans that had been a pair of his best until this particular night.
Joseph pulled at the skin around his bicep and his top lip curled as he regarded a long cut, which thankfully had missed his tattoo. There had been a couple of lucky swings, resulting in some superficial injuries that didn’t stop at the one around his bicep; they decorated bone of collar and teased the curve of one hip.
Blowing out a breath, Joseph picked up a nearby clear bag and sorted through it, pulling out antiseptic wipes and steri-strips, methodically laying them out on the nearby surface. He began by first of all cleaning the cuts with water, simply biting back on the twinges of pain that arose as a result, ignoring the burning sensation that settled into the ragged corners of every cut. He was pretty sure his mouth was going to be bruised from one flyaway punch that had slipped through his defences, not to mention his earlier altercation with a table.
Joseph sat back onto the edge of the bath, ripped denim stretching thinly across one knee and began the clean and repair process. It was all so routine that he could do it blindfolded, he really cloud. With the cuts cleaned and brought together, Joseph disposed of the medical supplies and brushed his thumb over a small cut that lingered beneath his left eye.
It was the sound of his cell ringing that pulled Joseph from the bathroom and across into the bedroom, fingers rummaging through a leather jacket until they finally snagged the small black phone. “Hello?” He murmured before he fell silent, nodding his head in response to whatever was being said. “Yeah, it’s being taken care of.” Another pause. “I’ll keep you up to date.” A few more words were murmured and then a farewell was said in a foreign language, Italian to be more exact.
Joseph regarded the phone and slipped it onto silent before resting it on a nearby table, running both hands through his hair to hold strands of it between his fingers. It had been one hell of a evening and now came the really hard part: winding down enough to get some sleep.
The door didn't squeak as it was opened which might have explained why Joseph, in the noise he was making in patching himself up, didn't hear the door open, or the woman who had opened it carefully walk in, treading carefully so that her four inch heels didn't click on the floor as she entered the room.
The red-head was dressed in a simple little black dress, her hair down and hanging around her shoulders with a loose curve. In the artificial light of the room, the red colour of her hair looked almost mahogany.
"Joseph?" She called, knowing who she was looking for; she had been given pretty...precise instructions as to what she was supposed to do when she got to the address on the business card she had been given.
Joseph turned his head and lifted his eyebrow at the arrival of the beautiful red-head and smiled slowly, sleep was suddenly looking less inviting.
“I’m guessing you’re my in room entertainment for tonight.” The red-head’s lips curled and that was all the invitation Joseph needed to close the distance and put his mouth on hers.
Tonight was suddenly looking up.