Birds of Feather

Chapter 30: Brotherly Rage

Teach hangs up the phone and adjusts you so he's carrying you almost kindly. He begins to walk up the stairs and you're not sure what to say.

Saying what you want seems a poor choice.

Saying nothing is making you sick with nerves and you can't ignore the pain that way.

"How much?" You ask quietly as he sets you on a counter in the bathroom.

"How much what, trinket?"

You bit back the urge to snap at him. "How much money are you trying to get?"

"One point five billion berry." He answers flatly, turning on the shower.

"Why?"

"None of your business, trinket."

"I'm not a-."

"Yer Marco's most precious little bauble." He interrupts curtly. "His greatest gods-lovin' treasure, if you ask me. I haven't seen him give two shits about someone for years after he an' that red-headed cunt went their separate ways." His voice is neutral, business and nothing else. Talking more to keep you from asking him annoying questions, you were sure.

"Sure he loves that clinic, probably cares about the employees enough, I could've done somethin' with anyone ah them." He admits, moving his hand away from the water stream. "You got two choices trinket. Strip and clean yourself up, or get uselessly shy and I'll strip you and clean you myself. Can't patch yer wounds until we clean that plaster an' such away."

You slip off the counter, moving toward the tub as you slowly start to pull off your clothes. "I can clean myself without help or supervision." You insist, wincing again the pain of cuts and bruises you didn't want to think about right now.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight, trinket. Devil fruit users are slicker'n snot and I don't know what yours does."

"Humph. Nothing." You grumble the words, making sure your practiced disdain seeps out naturally.

The sound of Teach's strike was the only warning you had, and you turned your head enough to make what would've been a brain rattling strike into something that only split your lip and bruised the side of your face. Even with your reaction it still nearly took you off your feet.

"Don't lie to me again, trinket." He warns, stepping back in the small bathroom and giving you some illusion of space.

There was no curtain around the tub and shower. You left your under clothes on and Teach didn't tell you to take them off. You washed blood, shards of wood and plaster off as best as you could, pulling a few large splinters free on your own.

"Hmph, I expected to see your wounds just close up." He grumbles. "Dry off, and sit back on the counter, I'll do the rest."

"I'm... not going to die from this." You say the words carefully, glancing at him as you shuffle your way to the counter.

"Probably not." He agrees, but doesn't say anything else.

You finish drying off and hop up onto the counter, seated so he can reach your back fairly easily. Teach pulls out a few pieces of debris you hadn't been able to reach, pouring on disinfectant and pulling a hissed swear from you before he put bandages on what needed it.

"Grab yer clothes and sit by the fire until your underpants dry and then get dressed."

You nod, grabbing up your clothes and heading out of the room. You're patched up, but everything still hurts. The bruises are going to ache for days at least, and it burns like glass and fire just to breathe. Despite your hobbling nature, Teach isn't ever more than a pace or two away from you. You wish you were fit enough to be irritated by it, but trying to run now would earn you little more than another beating.