Who: Chase, Cecilia and NEPTUNE! Where: Cecilia's room When: Early afternoon
"Okay, we're here," Chase half grunted, half gasped as he opened the front door and hobbled inside. Despite the cold that they were leaving, he was sweating profusely, pale and pained as he half-hugged the door frame so that Neptune could slip past him. The dog did just that, but refused to move more than a foot away from him, just as he had the entire way up the hill since their search and rescue endeavor had been cut short. He reached out to give Neptune's warm ear a thankful rub, and managed a smile. "You're such a good boy," he breathed, out of breath from exertion and pain. "Let's go see Cecilia, okay?"
Neptune dutifully led the way as Chase limped after him, his hand bracing against the wall. Pain shot from his foot to his thigh as he moved, but he'd learned at the start of his trek back to the house that as long as he was careful, as long as he kept his foot straight and didn't try to turn or pivot in any way, he could at least keep weight on it. That was good, right?
He probably shouldn't have gone so far into the abandoned house, particularly after his conversation with Cecilia about how the foot traffic would likely make things even more unsafe than they'd been before. And he'd been careful too, going slowly back down the stairs he'd already tested on the way up, and it was probably that care that had prevented him from becoming more injured than he already was. The step had collapsed and tilted forward under his foot and he'd gone sliding to the landing. His ankle had rolled at an awful angle, and the pain that followed had been so piercing and fierce he'd been fairly certain he'd broken it. He'd sat on the landing for what felt like an eternity, just breathing and fighting the urge to vomit, and trying to discern if the sound he'd heard from his foot had been a pop or a snap. Neptune had sat with him the entire time, pressing into his uninjured leg and side, and Chase had curled the fingers of his left hand into the fur and stroked, and breathed, and willed the pain to ebb enough for him to move. The longer he sat, the more he realized that other parts of him were starting to ache, bumped and bruised from his tumble, a scraped hand from trying to grab the worn railing for purchase. He reached into his pocket for his phone, only to find the screen marred with a spiderweb crack in the top corner, and the device itself refusing to turn on. Maybe something had popped loose and would be an easy fix, but without tools he wasn't going to be able to do anything about it. He swore quietly. No help for him.
It had taken a few minutes of being upright to figure out the best way to walk without causing pain to shoot up his leg. He'd downed two of the advil he'd picked up for Marco, dry, and headed back up the hill. And now he stood in front of Cecilia's door, leaning against the wall and catching his breath. He wanted water. He wanted to sit. He wanted to sleep. He wanted Kiley. He knocked.