Dressing was not overly easy for Conor but he managed and when it was done the man, the Alpha, looked almost as though a fight hadn’t taken place at all. Of course that was an illusion that Conor would seek to uphold but an illusion all the same. The bruises to his facial features remained; though not as intense as they were. Yet all other wounds and injures he was able to put out of sight. They’d plague him for days yet but appearances were more important than Conor wished to admit at times.
The task did not take long; as Alex showered and changed as well, Conor was left to his thoughts.
Left to thinking of the fight.
Left to the memory of that final moment.
Sighing Conor shook his head and showed appreciation for that bottle of whiskey Alex had brought in, by taking a few more shots. None were enough to really numb anything but that did not seem to faze Conor. Unlike many the taste was what Conor was after. That familiarity. That…reminder.
When Alex came back out of the bathroom and spoke Conor offered a vague smile. “It’s not useless to say. It just may not be so easy.” Yet, yes, he would try to stay off of his leg when, and where, he could. However he’d need to see to all the pack members. He’d need to stand and give words at the funeral. There was much that would require the alpha up and moving.
Pushing himself back up to his feet Conor offered his hand to her before opening the door.
And, much as Conor had thought he might be, the pack doctor was waiting just down the hallway nervously pacing. Conor smirked lightly “I’m alright. You don’t need to worry.” The man glanced over at the pair; eyeing Conor like he didn’t believe him for a moment but finally nodding his head. “Okay. Good. That’s good to hear.” The man, slightly jittery, left to return to the bar. He was one of the few pack members that lived in hiding still. That was becoming harder and harder for pack to do but some still remained living dual lives.
Conor gave Alex’s hand a squeeze as they walked through the clubhouse; speaking words to the few that lingered there however most were to the bar. Conor could easily tell; the noise carried and the wolves weren’t always known for being quiet. Especially not in this moment. There would be celebration first…for their alpha, for Alex, and for Packard’s life. Later, when the man was laid to rest, there would be mourning.
The door to the bar was opened and the noise flowed heavy, and heady, over Conor. It brought a smile to his lips. The day had been dark and it was still in its ways, dreary. But this was home.
Conor easily moved into the fray of wolves to begin the time of celebration.