When Ewan's weight and strong grip lifted from him, Van sat up and got slowly to his feet. He touched his eyebrow that had been split during the headbutt, and then walked gingerly over to his bed. His ribs hurt, his knee was throbbing, and his head was pounding. It was all more or less familiar to him and he even kept some supplies in his drawer.
While Ewan scared off the watching Hydras and righted the door, Van wordlessly cleaned up the blood on his face and patched it over with a clean swab to stop the bleeding. He looked at his brother in the mirror behind him and scowled. Van was learning that Ewan was like this a lot. Strangely able to move from beating on someone to chatting them up.
Pulling a discarded black t-shirt over his head with a little bit of a hiss at the movement, Van muttered his reply. "Through the weekend, and then me and Gil are gonna stick around for Pride." He knew he didn't have to worry about his brother telling the staff that he was intentionally missing his flight back to Maine. Ewan was no snitch.
Tugging on some jeans, Van buttoned them and then sat on his bed, pulling his hair back with one hand. "I might win. But I doubt it's good enough. I didn't make it with a focus on all the key elements of silent film. It's a honor just to get it into the festival at all."