Regan looked at him and asked, "So your family have a synthetic-cold-compression?"
Gray hedged with a shrug. "According to Granddad."
Regan recognised his tone, "So Sam thinks he or Loretta has your synthetic-cold-compression?" She looked over at Gray. "Are they really looking for it?"
"Possibly." He sipped at the hot chocolate. She narrowed her eyes. Gray chuckled. "You do know that narrowing your eyes, if you have a black eye, a puffy eye like yours, is a bit moot! And take it from me, I know from personal experience, it is a waste! And it bloody hurts!"
True, thought Regan. She was tempted to roll her eyes, and she also thought it would be the same: Useless and a tad painful.
"So, fount of information about bruises, what would you recommend?" Regan asked tartly.
"About what exactly? Alternatives to narrowing your eyes, or something more generally about bruises?" His eyes twinkled at her.
"Both." She said with a sigh. "In light of your behaviour at this farm," she said pointedly, and he smirked, "at some point, during your convalesce, and with your injuries, and your bruises, someone no doubt would have made you cross?"
"Cross?" He grinned. "I don't do cross!" His grin grew. "Fury, yes, possible."
This was so odd. He was flirting with her. Smiling at him. He never smiled at him. Normally he glowers or snaps or both together. But here, now, he was beaming at her. Can't be right. Must be her imagination. "Fine! So anytime that you were tempted to narrow your eyes, in frustration, in fury, in questioning, or anything?" She left the question hanging.
"I was too busy gritting my teeth in pain." He said bluntly.
That statement was the equivalent of bursting a balloon with a pin. "Oh." She reached over the table. "Sorry. I didn't mean to..." and she stopped her hand before it reached his hand. She retracted her hand and diverted it towards her mug. And she lifted her mug. "Sorry. I forgot your injuries makes my shiner a pimple!"
He shook his head and narrowed his eyes as he noted her actions. Why did she pull her hand away? "Don't worry about it. Remember, I was unconscious for a fortnight. Missed the tough bits in my treatment!" Reading her face was hard at the moment with her injury. "The swelling had subsided in that time. When I woke up, the bruises on my body were practically a tartan of colours: mainly purple, red, green, yellow!"
"Still, it must have been really painful." She put her mug back on the table.
"It was. It was hard to decide which part hurt the most!"
"Didn't the pain relief worked?"
"Yes. Kind of." For some reason he found himself telling her about his convalescence journey. "But I was not keen on taking them for infinity. I really did not want to end up relying on pain relief. Getting hooked on painkillers is not a good idea. So I told them I didn't need the dosage they were recommending." He said frankly.
"That is silly. Sometimes those huge dosages are necessary. Your body needs help. To recover. Sometimes, your body just needs help. It takes time." Regan could not believe he was talking to her. As if she was his friend. A real friend. That is not possible, she knew that. She tried to dredge the memories of their recent skirmish, like this morning, but those memories were encased with new reminiscences. Like the recollections from a few moments ago, when he escorted her, on the return-journey from the hill to home. The fact that he insisted on carrying the rug, her takeaway boxes, leaving her to carry her bag and her torch. She was pretty sure she didn't stumble on purpose, but it was nice to have someone around who automatically reached for her to steady her. She was pretty sure she could clamber over the stile when the reached the farm, but he all but lifted her over the stile.
He found himself telling her, with a rueful smile, "Yes. But time is a finicky friend!"
"A finicky friend?" Again, bedazzled by his smile.
He nodded and lost his grin. He said softly, "There were times when I just wanted pain relief. Wanted to sleep. Just wanted to sleep. But in the back of my head, there was always a niggle in the back of my head, a kind of fear."
"A fear?" Her forehead beetled .
He nodded. "Yes. That would become an addict. I hoped the following day I would not need it, just prayed the pain would be less."
She thought about his various operations for his various injuries, and seeing the incision at his temple, she said quietly, "Did you need small metal plates and screws for your cheek? Or did they insert a metal pin through the bone and through your nose? I guess your face needed closed reduction..."
He chuckled. "Only you would ask that?" And most people would focus on his terrible injuries but not about the treatment. But then, she was doctor, so of course her questions would be normal for a doctor.
"I just wondered, as your cheek doesn't look like you have pins." Regan nearly rolled her eyes. Why did she say that? She remembered that when they first met, his face impressed her! Those chiselled bones, in particular! Following by his eyes, and jaw, and lips. She nearly rolled her eyes.
"No. I don't." He smiled and added, "I do in my legs. Got lots of pins in my legs! They were practically shattered, but pinned the bits together. A couple of screws, but mainly pins. And none in my cheek." He pointed at a small scar at his temple. Regan had seen the scar, which is why she knew his cheek had work. Gray continued, "They made an incision here and the surgeon said my cheekbone would stay in the correct position on its own after he moves it back to the right position."
"ok."
He shrugged, "He was sure it would stay in place!"
"Ahah, stubborn bones. Guess, your bones mirrors your nature!"
He laughed. "I will take that as a compliment!" She attempted a smile, but the swelling on her cheek made it hard to smile, a bit like botox. Gray said, "He was right. It took a while to settle, but it was the least of my concerns. My ribs were the worst!"
Regan nodded. "I can imagine it. Fractured ribs take ages to ..."
He interrupted, "I think they were more concerned that my ribs might have jagged edges, that might juts into my chest cavity."
"Yes, of course. Possible, given the attack." She thought about the options.
And they continued with their conversation mainly about his injuries and his recuperation.
Gray thought it was odd how easily it was to talk about this with her: Not just the physical aspect of his convalesce, the fact he could talk about his attitudes and his rollercoaster emotions with her. And that was new to him.
Recovery was his goal during his convalesce, but he never shared his concerns about his mental health. Depression that dogged his steps during his recovery was buried. But he found himself discussing those concerns and shared his thoughts and questions with her. Her responses were anything but trite. And she would not accept his pedestrian replies to her questions, either! Perhaps because she was a doctor, but he remembered, he had been asked by other doctors during his convalesce and he had ignored their probes about his mental health. There was something about her. He just wasn't sure what exactly. There was a war in his brain, as aspects of her character jarred.
When Sam and Lore returned to the kitchen, Regan was surprised to see she and Gray had talked for fifteen minutes without an argument!
"Did you find it?" Gray quirked a brow and smirked.
"er." Lore glanced at her granddad. "No."
"Really." Gray shook his head and his smile widened.
"You might have it in your room." Sam said bluntly and ignored Gray's knowing smile.
Gray laughed. He got to his feet and reached for the two mugs. "Want a top up?" He asked Regan as if they were old friends.
"Top up?" Lore glanced at Regan.
Regan said in tandem, "No. Thanks."
"Do you want a hot chocolate Granddad? Lore?"
They both shook their head. So Gray put both mugs in the dishwasher.
"You ok?" Sam asked without thinking about it.
"Yes. I am fine."
"And my grandson was a gentleman?" Asked with a smile and received a chuckle from his grandson. Amazing what can happen within fifteen minutes.
"Of course. After all, he made me hot chocolate!" Regan said with a shrug.
Sam and Loretta shared a knowing look, and Gray saw it. But he would take issue with that, and them, later. Sam and Loretta knew that the tone in the kitchen had changed over the last fifteen minutes: From being grumpy and tetchy to cheerful, and possibly even just flirting with Regan!
Regan got to her feet. "Thank you for the hot chocolate, Gray." She picked up the sodden tea towel now that the ice had melted. "I will replenish the ice, probably better if I use a new tea towel, and go to bed." She said as an explanation as she undid the tea towel.
"Wait." Gray said.
"Sorry? Why?" Regan frowned. Now what? She hoped they were not going to argue, as she was so pleased with the last fifteen minutes. Almost friends. Discussing things that were personal. More than friends, really. She hoped this progress in their relationship was not a temporary rapport. The connexion over the last fifteen minutes showed they shared similar values and attitudes. What mattered, on a personal level, showed they shared principles and tenets. And they were significant and substantial.
"Because Lore, during my convalesce, she learnt to make a perfect ice compression! Is that right, Granddad?" Gray quirked a brow at his grandfather.
Sam nodded with no concern about lying. Loretta mumbled. They had tried various ice compression on Gray's bruises and swelling. Some worked, others were dismal. Lore remembered the problems, mainly they were about leaking or the compression was not cold enough.
Gray continued with a happy smile and looked over at Regan, "Can I suggest, that you, Regan, have a shower and when you are ready to go to bed, come back to the kitchen. Loretta and Granddad will no doubt get the ice compression ready." Gray declared.
Regan looked at Gray, was somewhat surprised by the twinkle in his eyes. So Regan then looked at Sam and Lore. They smiled.
"Thank you." She said quietly "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Of course."
Regan looked back at Gray. He just shrugged. Something wasn't right, Regan thought as she watched the family. But she nodded and then she left the kitchen. This day was awful. But this night was wonderful!