terribly sorry, officer (baelfiery) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-02-19 10:55:00 |
|
|||
After receiving several texts from Virgil about insane Christmas decorations and various things coming to life at Stark Industries, Richie put his phone back down on the desk he’d been occupying at the ranch. “Nope.” He muttered, it had been hard enough to convince himself to go back at all-but this sort of solidified it. So far nothing had tried to attack him at the Ranch except various kids giving him hugs in unfortunate spots that still needed healing, so Richie had escaped to the office to hide out a bit post clinging arms. While he appreciated the sentiment and said nothing about it to them, it hurt like hell. He was recovering, but it was a process. A frustratingly slow process that sometimes left him less than social try as he might to fake it. He didn’t want to scare anyone with details as to what happened, so he hadn’t told the kids-but apparently they’d missed his presence. It was kind of nice. They were smart, something had obviously happened to cause him not to show up for a week or so but it wasn’t something to discuss with them. Instead he set them all on a treasure hunt to find an actual box of coins. Chocolate ones, but the adventure was half the fun anyway. He’d set out a map and everything, with various riddles and clues to solve. It would give them something interesting to do together, and give him a moment to catch his breath in the quiet without hopefully alarming anyone. There were a lot of stubborn people who worked at the ranch, and hell, the guy that ran the ranch? No exception. After his bullet fiasco, Neal knew that he’d be back at work as soon as he was able - he’d been shot before (well, dream shot but it carried over, how sweet) and he wasn’t exactly great about sitting still and resting. As soon as he could manage it, he’d been up and out of the hospital bed - which was precisely why he was a little concerned about Richie. Working himself back to a pale and ashen death while recovering wasn’t going to do anyone any favors, but if he wanted to ease back in with quieter tasks that didn’t involve interaction with a bunch of hellions - because that could wear a person out, even one that wasn’t recovering from a gunshot wound - then Neal would switch things up a bit. Basically, he just wanted to make sure the guy wasn’t overdoing it. The concern came from a good place. The treasure hunt with some of the younger lawbreakers was underway - amazing how motivated kids were when chocolate, or food in general, was involved - so Neal tracked Richie down in one of the offices. “Hey,” he rapped his knuckles on the doorframe, stepping inside. And shutting that door a bit, to give some privacy. “How are you holding up? It can be kind of a zoo here.” If he was entirely honest Richie wasn’t so sure he was back up to par, but it was better than sitting around and watching Virgil be worried about him. While he appreciated the sentiment he didn’t want his friend feeling so guilty all the time over something he didn’t blame him for in the first place. It was his own fault for deciding to move in and try to calm things down while Virgil made his Super hero change. He couldn’t help him feel better either it seemed, the guy just kept doing everything for him, Richie was capable. He was hurt, not broken. Glancing upwards as Neal came in he gave him a tired smile with a shrug. “Some of them are a little too smart for their own good.” Richie mused as he sat back to get a better angle to sit on that wasn’t directly on said injury. “Got grabbed a bit too hard.” It had actually freaked him out a bit, though he was pretty good at poker face and not showing his cards. Some of the stitches had broken, but he hadn’t noticed. “Well, that doesn’t sound good.” It really didn’t, and Neal was worried - he didn’t want the kid (alright, he wasn’t technically a kid, but he was young and in college so that counted) to split open all over the floor or anything. “Want me to take you to the infirmary so they can have a look?” he asked, though it was more like a suggestion. Because simply just suffering seemed unwise. Still, the enthusiasm the kids had exhibited was kind of sweet, if you thought about it. “Guess they really missed you though,” he grinned encouragingly - and Riche should feel special, at least, since these hellions at the ranch didn’t trust people (especially ones older than them) easily. They also didn’t warm up easily, and could weed out the weakest links with their behavior. Richie definitely hadn’t expected any kind of welcome back considering his lack of words and instability there schedule wise so it was a pleasant surprise. He knew a lot of those kids didn’t like surprises, but it seemed like returning proved something to them. Richie wasn’t going anywhere, The ranch was a place he chose to be. Nobody had asked him to do anything or be anything he wasn’t. “Yeah, maybe I should.” When he got up though his vision swam from pain. He had to use the corner of the heavy desk to lean on to keep himself from falling. A bit of crimson had leaked through his hoodie. “Hey, hey - I’ve got you,” Neal promised, sliding an arm across Riche’s shoulders to steady him, and give him support while walking him to the infirmary. It was a good place, licensed, with doctors and nurses and medics available around the clock for most emergencies that would arise. Obviously, there wasn’t access to hardcore surgery tools here but Richie just seemed like he popped a stitch or two, some blood needed mopping up, so that was something a nurse could fix at the ranch. Though good thing the actual hospital wasn’t far. Entering the infirmary, he got Richie settled on a paper-covered cot while the nurse on duty hovered. “We can take care of this right away,” she assured, getting the supplies - antiseptic ointment, gauze for dressing the wound. “Maybe we can hunker you down doing office work for a little while?” Neal suggested, leaning against the doorframe. “The kids will know you need to take it easy.” It wasn’t anything too drastic, but he hadn’t exactly been following all the doctors orders of resting. Richie didn’t want to feel useless. He leaned against Neal with a hand on his face in attempt to stop the sudden spinning. As Neal guided him toward the office until he was able to sit, he frowned a bit. “I don’t want to be in the way...but I don’t want to go home either.” Things were fine, well maybe not great-but passable. He just didn’t like the idea of Virgil being put out either. “You sure?” He didn’t like having to take things so slow these days. He was used to just doing what he wanted within human reason of course. “I used to do the books for the Center all the time, I can probably do yours too if you need?” Neal understood feeling like, when you were deemed something silly like rest, all you were doing was sitting around being useless - but that wasn’t the case at all. “Your body’s been through something traumatic, it needs the time to heal and recover,” he reminded gently. “So yeah, I’m sure. We do need more administrative help, so I think something can be arranged.” Running the ranch, he tried to do as much of the admin work as possible - things like the hiring and the paperwork involved with volunteers coming and going, also the budget and the ordering of supplies. But he could only do so much, especially when he was involved in so many other projects too, both indoors and out. It was hard work and left him exhausted but he loved it. “You interested in being our official accountant?” Because honestly, that would take some of the pressure off of him. Neal wasn’t really a numbers kind of guy. Richie gave him a bit of a look, but decided not to fight it. It wasn’t as though Neal had told him to stay home-that he probably would have fought. This was definitely better. He was starting to feel better even as the stitches were mended even, it had been uncomfortable to have loose ones in the first place and he hadn’t even realized how much so “Definitely. I don’t know if you noticed but sports and games? Not my shtick.” He tried, but Richie was clumsy as all hell when it came to sports involving ball or coordination. “I’m running out of ideas that don’t involve balls, and honestly they kind of scare the hell out of me.” He admitted sheepishly. Plus it would give him a little more purpose. He was good with this. Virgil was good at everything, including numbers-but having something that was just his would do him a world of good. Richie moved his arm as the stitches were finished up again as if to test his side. “Ow. Okay, yeah. Indoors isn’t so unreasonable.” Maybe sometimes complaining a little was okay. ‘It’s cool, sports don’t have to be your schtick,” Neal shrugged casually, and it wasn’t like all the employees needed to be out there throwing pigskin or wielding hockey sticks. Sure, he recognized how important things like competitive sports and martial arts were for the kids’ rehabilitation, so he was a big advocate of having prime facilities for that - it just wasn’t everyone’s thing. They also needed number-oriented minds for the crunching, just as much as they needed people like Virgil who were more apt to run basketball drills. So in Neal’s book? It was perfectly fine if Richie wanted to tackle that. He was reminded by the nurse who had just literally stitched him up again, to not poke and prod at the injury - or move too much. “We can head back to what will be your office now that you’re all set. Before you bust at the seams again,” Neal quipped. He was decent at basketball thanks to Virgil, but his friend was much better at it and he wouldn’t deny it if it came to it. He’d happily step aside and let him take over the basketball area of the Ranch with no real argument. Richie winced slightly at the soreness of the injury and frowned some as he followed him toward the office with a nod, mostly quiet until they got a little closer to the office again.. “...Have you ever been shot?” He had been having several nights recently where it wa the center of his nightmares, he wondered if it was a common thing. Had he ever been shot. Damn, what fond memories that question drudged up. But it was something to bond over, at least. Neal understood what it was like. “Oh, yeah, sure have,” he nodded, shutting the door to the infirmary behind him. With any luck, they wouldn’t have to come back in the next hour or so. Knock on wood. “In the dreams? I had this psycho ex-fiancee who tried to kill me. I say ex because attempted murder definitely put an end to our relationship.” He didn’t mind talking about it either - Tamara was so far from his mind, all the time. Especially with Emma in the picture now, and their future. “But staying in the hospital after that was a complete drag, so I get how frustrated you are. My friends took good care of me though - it’s okay to let that happen sometimes too. It’s what friends are for.” There weren’t a lot of people Richie reached out to, but Neal reminded him a lot of Virgil’s father. The man was solid, like Mr. Hawkins had always been for any of the shelter kids. Richie saw him show up to the ranch seemingly no matter what was going on, and the kids there responded to that kind of loyalty and dedication. It made him easy to approach. “I got shot in both places too.” He admitted with a faint wince at the memory, but gave a slight look of amusement. “Would sort of kill the romance factor.” Nudging open the door to the office to take a look around at what was going to be his main area soon, he frowned at that statement. “Virgil blames himself even though I don’t blame him. He keeps trying to do everything but I don’t need everything done for me.” Richie didn’t look like the strongest person physically but he did have a strong sense of pride. “There can be a compromise made - you don’t need everything done for you, but maybe let him be there a little. Talk to him about it,” Neal suggested, and he knew Virgil - he was also a good guy, and he was glad that him and Richie were such close friends. It was better than feeling abandoned after being shot - that would be even worse. He remembered that he had a really great support system in the hospital, friends who didn’t hover too much, but would bring him food and the pleasure of their company. “Sometimes we do need gentle reminders to take it a little easy too,” he added, with a grin. In the office, he flipped the light and strode to the window, showing the place off in a mock Vanna White sort of gesture. Oooh, aaah. “Well, what do you think?” It was mostly empty now, but there was a window view - no jail cell with four walls, making you feel boxed in and shit - and it was overall a nice, cozy space. “Feel free to decorate however you want.” That last comment earned Neal a bit of an eyeroll but he sighed in a resigned sort of way. “Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point.” He knew why Virgil was doing everything, he knew it was out of love so he probably should just accept some of it-but it was frustrating at times. “It’s just so damn frustrating that even small things are difficult right now. Moving shouldn’t hurt someone.” He grumbled in annoyance. “Could use some paint, but I think it’ll be just perfect.” He went over to a small window on the right side and opened it up to let the place air out a bit and grinned at the gestures. ‘Nicer than the one in Detroit even, that one had bars on the window.” He looked around and nodded contently. “This’ll work fine.” Some paint, and personal touches - but yeah, otherwise? Neal thought it was decent too. He knew Richie would be able to make it his own and add some flair. “Like I said, feel free to do whatever to it. I can help paint one day if you want,” he offered. “I’ll go on and let you settle in for now though? Get you set up with your computer and phone in here.” Aw, he was pretty much a professional accountant now. How sweet. They grew up so fast, didn’t they? “..Leave the tech side to me?” He grinned a little at that, he could have his own fancy set up. “ But the painting, I definitely won’t turn you down on that. I’m no Picasso.” He nodded though, already seeming to make notes about what to change and what to leave. It was definitely going to need some technical upgrades, most of which would be easy enough given Virgil’s current gig with Stark. He may still be able to sweet talk him into bringing some things over even if life was a little strained between them. It wouldn’t be strained forever, he hoped anyway. In fact maybe this place could go along way to mending that. |