Who:Loki and Zira. Then Loki and Bartleby. Where: Some alley in New York, not heavily trafficked. The nhome. When: Late Saturday evening. What: Healing Loki, chit-chatting. Coping. Warnings: Some blood, less than pretty description, likely cursing. Sad elements.
His mind clear of Zira's message for the time being Loki was busily wrapping more dirty newspaper over the stubs on his back, best as he could. His beloved wings were nothing but those stubs now, and wiping a few tears of Pain from his face he shook his head, muttering a bitter curse to himself that he knew wouldn't do much good now. He'd been robbed and he wished to God there was something on her that he could cut off to make her suffer so much.
Her tits quickly came to mind, but he shook it off, hissing with pain as he squeezed one to try and stop the bleeding, rather making it gush over his back in a warm, wet wave. He groaned out, glancing around. Seeing no one and feeling his strength fade all the more he fell to his knees, arms bracing him against a brick wall as he sobbed in pain, and indignation. She knew how to kick a Soul when he was down, he had to hand her that.