[woods, abandoned houses: luke & matt]
There were a couple seconds during which, admittedly, he thought he'd gotten the wrong house. And if he had, well, Luke wasn't inclined to start going door to door while he bled through his shirt; no need to scare some poor sap unlucky enough to answer his (or her) door. Better to head off somewhere alone to lick his wounds. It was an option, one he considered while he waited. Really, he didn't wait long, but with one hand to his stomach time didn't pass quite right.
Even when the door did open, he was self-aware enough to acknowledge that his presence wasn't exactly desirable. But the worst that could happen was that the guy would tell him to get lost—or call the police, but Luke knew he could move fast if he had to, get away before anyone could show up. He looked at Matt, even as Matt looked over his shoulder, and let his appearance speak for itself.
Okay, so he did smile. A small, almost apologetic twist of lips that somehow managed to be self-deprecating too.
With that one word, kitchen, he was allowed entrance. Luke tensed slightly when Matt took his arm, but he didn't struggle and let himself be led inside. Looking around, taking in his surroundings, that was just instinct—still, he said nothing. No comment, not even when his gaze fell on the blackout curtains.
He knew he couldn't get away with silence for long, not when he'd knocked on the man's door and started all this. So, once Luke was seated, he spoke. "I had an accident." It was a start.