Who: Oliver and Cecilia Where: Cecilia's room When: 7:30pm
It had been kind of a weird day, all things considered. Not just strange because of everything that had gone on, but also the fact that it had been a really damn good one. Things seemed to be progressing well on the Simms Lockdown front, Marco was making big steps toward regaining some of his confidence...
After making it back to his room-well, sneaking more like, shirtless, marked up, and with his soiled shirt in hand- he knew he should have expected that Marco would still be there, despite the plans the kid had made for himself with Juno. He tried not to freeze in the doorway like a kid getting caught after curfew, chalk full of all the composed innocence he could muster. He was a damn adult, and he could sure as hell walk into his own room like one. Of course, it didn't take long for Marco to inquire if someone had attacked him. After a heartbeat of consideration, Oliver had replied that yes, he had, but in a good way, and desperately wished the conversation could end there as he made a beeline for his dresser. He'd nearly choked on air when Marco nonchalantly asked if he'd "fucked that elf guy". Oliver, the paragon of honesty that he was, couldn't get his brain to think up anything that could distract Marco from the conversation topic, and had promptly replied with a firm "yes". Marco had simply nodded, replied that he "liked that guy", and "he was nice", before going right back to what he'd been doing before Oliver had wandered in.
He didn't really remember his shower, just that it was long, and thorough, and he could feel each and every line that had been left on him when the hot water hit skin. It was a good pain, like the mark of a day full of work well done, radiating from the tenderness in his scalp where his hair had been pulled, to the ache in his knees from kneeling, and every inch in between. Sadly enough he spent more time mulling over that conversation with Marco than he did thinking about what had transpired with Edwin. When he stepped out of the bathroom, his soiled clothes in hand, he stopped in the center of the room and simply stared at the chair that Marco had been occupying only a few minutes before, presumably having gone next door to see Juno for the night. He didn't know what he'd been expecting from the kid, and he wasn't worried, but he didn't understand the strange sort of surprise and confusion that laced around his brain. Marco really was....Marco.
After disposing of the condoms and wrappers in the trash, figuring there was no point in trying to be sneaky about it if Marco was just going to throw everything out there in the open, he dried and moved to find a set of clothes that would more effectively hide most of the marks Edwin had left on him. Said marks were both extensive and impressive, and he'd grinned as he'd inspected himself in the mirror after his shower. The first real jarring sensation came when he opened the closet and stared at that first garment hanging up. The gray sweater. The back of his hand moved on its own accord to graze down the soft material of the sleeve, but thankfully his brain didn't latch on to any particular memories, or stupidly self-depreciating statements about loyalty and loss, and regret. He reached past it for a dark blue hoodie, tugging it over the tank top he'd been walking around in, then headed toward the computer to message Kate.
He missed not seeing Kate as often as he had at the beach house, a fact he was constantly reminded of every time he spoke to her in person, over the network, or thought about her during the day. He hated wondering if she was spending too much time alone, if she needed company more often than he'd been able to offer the past few days, but she seemed happy with her projects, and he was happy to help. Before leaving his room, he cleared out the few objects still lingering in the army pack he'd been given for their trip to the beach house, then headed to Kate's room first to drop it off.
He kept his promise and showed up in front of Cecilia's door with two mugs of steaming hot tea that he'd nuked in the new microwave, hoping the one they'd lugged up the hill didn't meet the same end as the last. There couldn't be that many appliances just hanging around town. It was only on his way toward her room that he remembered he might have messed up a little bit with the whole Owen thing, and that there was a very good possibility that Cecilia was a little annoyed with him. It caused him to stop in the hall, watching her door as if it might open up to a tiny blonde woman lunging herself in his general direction. Mental images of how easily she'd trounced all of them in the fighting ring warred with those of him simply dropping the tea mugs and running for dear life in the opposite direction. Neither one of those scenarios was likely, but surprisingly enough they did ease him a bit. If Cecilia was annoyed they'd talk about it, if she wasn't...they'd probably still talk about it.
Holding both mug handles in one hand, he knocked with the other and waited patiently.