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[center][img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Blue&name=Coffee%20House.ttf&size=100&style_color=bf00ff[/img][/center]
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At Skav’s words, Blue is suddenly reminded of the cut on his neck. Vertigo begins to creep up from him, a dizzying combination of lightheadedness and nausea. Just how much blood had he lost? No sooner did he remove his hand from the wound that it started to tflaming from sullen mauve to incandescent red. Despite his body’s attempts to knit itself back together, the paper-thin scab that’d formed wasn’t enough to quench the flow of blood, sloughing off in broken pieces as soon as it came into contact with water. He wastes no time in retrieving one of Skav’s shirts, but gives it an experimental sniff before ripping it up.

Blue easily spots the open bottle of peroxide sitting on the edge of the sink, and closes a hand around it, tipping its contents over onto a torn piece of cloth. When he first presses the peroxide-soaked fabric against the gash, the pain is white-hot, searing through his nerves like acid. He lets out a quiet wince at the sensation, but doesn’t let go until the bubbling ceases, a cold trickle of pink sliding down his neck, over the jut of collarbones. The cloth falls away to the floor, and Blue sets aside a fresh, mostly clean piece to knot around his neck later.

[color=bf00ff]“Still look better than you, sasquatch.”[/color] He bares his teeth in a half-hearted grin, though it quickly morphs into a grimace when he feels the lingering peroxide begin to foam and sizzle. Still, he has to admit - the shirt was getting a little too grungy, even for him, and he starts to shrug off the jacket, then grabs onto the collar of his t-shirt to yank it off over his head. It falls in a pool next to him, reeking of sweat, rainwater, and the coppery tang of blood. Blue feels a twinge of sadness at having to get rid of it, but he ignores it in favour of climbing to his feet. It’s surprisingly difficult to push himself upright, his legs beginning to prick with pins and needles, and he has to brace a hand against the cool porcelain of the sink for support.

Reaching for the holster at the back of his jeans, he drops two knives into the sink - one colored in shades of rainbow, and the other a simple switchblade. They land with a loud clang that reverberates through the bathroom, clattering around noisily before finally falling silent. [color=bf00ff]“Almost forgot these.”[/color]

Blue doesn’t stop the other when they brush past him; instead, he starts to move further inside. A shower sounded like heaven; the fact that warm water wasn’t an option didn’t bother him in the slightest. All he wanted was to get all this filth off him, and a shower - no matter how cold - was just what he needed. He’s in the middle of removing his boots when Skav’s voice reaches him, a short bark of laughter tumbling past his lips. His reply is tinged with nonchalance, much like a mother humoring her child, but he doesn’t reject the notion completely. Something to think about, perhaps. [color=bf00ff]“Yeah, sure. I’ll keep that in mind, [i]Father Skav[/i].”[/color]

The rest of his clothes are removed with well-practiced ease, and he steps into the shower, twisting the tap clockwise. Water bursts from the showerhead in a freezing torrent, and Blue has to fight the urge to duck away. His body is warm, warmer than it should be - thinner, too. These days, he’s eating better than he used to, but his hipbones are like knives, the knots of his spine punching out angrily from under a layer of skin. Clear, clean water soon begins to run rusty red, and for the longest while, Blue just trains his gaze on the wall before him, unmoving, unthinking. When he does eventually come back to himself, the water isn’t red anymore, and he twists the faucet closed. Wringing his hair out the best he can, he manages to find a surprisingly clean towel that he uses to dry himself off with, then pulls his boxers back on.

It doesn’t take him too long to find something to wear, a black t-shirt hanging off the bathroom door handle. Skav had obviously left it there for him, and while Blue is positive that it’s a few sizes too big, he pulls it on anyway. The fabric hangs loosely around his shoulder, the hem reaches halfway down his thighs, revealing the two usually-hidden tattoos. The ink has faded somewhat, lines that used to be black turning to a pale, sickly green, though he only takes a moment to knot the piece of cloth around his neck before moving to seek out Skav.

Blue doesn’t even notice his body start to list until he feels his shoulder bump against the wall, but he manages to make it to the couch, collapsing onto it with a sigh of satisfaction. It’s a long moment before he lifts his head again, eyes sliding open, and turns his gaze to meet Skav’s own. Once, twice, he teeters on the edge of conversation, only to decide against it. Another sigh escapes from him, though this time, it’s crossed with a humorless breath of laughter, and he yanks a fist through his hair. [color=bf00ff]“God, where do I even start?”[/color]

Endless thoughts swim through his mind, melting together into an amorphous blur. He doesn’t feel like talking, never does; but soon, the words start pouring out of him before he even has the chance to stop himself. [color=bf00ff]“What do you think of me? Like, honestly...”[/color] He pauses, draws his legs up to sit cross-legged, and leans forward ever so slightly, head at a quizzical tilt. [color=bf00ff]“What do you think of me; when I let myself get fucked by some John just to make enough money to get high and forget about it? [i]Why[/i] do I keep doing it?”[/color]