Who: Sean and Joshua
When: middayish, right after scene with Dessi
Where: on the way home

Joshua just wanted to go home and put ice on his nose. That didn't seem like too much to fucking ask. He felt irrationally angry, and it was a huge pressure in his chest. He wanted to punch someone, break something, burn some shit down. It was hard to even say why, it wasn't like he didn't trip himself up all the goddamn time. Just ... today, it was getting to be too much. His hands were shaking as he picked up his board where he left it and started for the sidewalk. Only by that time, the laces had worked themselves out of their double-knot and he tripped again, cursing the whole way. Once more, he tried to catch himself out of instinct, and pain bolted up his arm from his wrist. Yeah, he was just making whatever he'd hurt there worse. Fucking brilliant.

Sean landed with bent knees by Joshua's side - thankfully the street was quiet, nobody else around to see the short irish guy with wings appear out of the sky, bending down to help the teen up. "Woah there, okay, what's the damage?" he asked, looking the guy over, cringing at the sight of his face. But then he'd known there was trouble - he'd known there was trouble probably before it started, he'd been able to feel it. "And where's the wanker who did it?" he added, looking around, his tone full of a promise to make the bastard pay.

He wasn't surprised at all to feel the rush of air and hear Sean's voice. It hadn't been more than five minutes since he'd walked away from the naked guy with feathers, but he still couldn't help but feel that his angel was late. He pushed off the help, however, and went about picking himself up. "You're lookin' at 'im," he said in that weirdly nasal way. His face was throbbing something awful. "Tripped."

"You tripped?" Sean asked, but he sounded more resigned than anything else. Bloody curse. "Do we need to get you to the hospital?" he asked, looking the guy up and down and wondering if that nose was broken.

"Prob'ly," Joshua said, trying not to sound pissy. It wasn't Sean's fault that he couldn't walk more than twenty feet without falling on his face. "Think I fucked my wrist, too." He crouched again once he was up to start pulling the laces out of his sneakers. Fuck it.

Next time he wasn't going to bother to fly - he was just gonna get in the car and drive. Might not be as fast, but at least it meant he'd have transport for Joshua when they needed it. Instead he dragged his phone out of his pocket and dialled a cab company, sitting down on the curb as he did so, even though it was damp from the earlier rain. He ordered a pick up for the hospital as quickly as they could get it here then hung up, watching Joshua pull at his shoes. "What's that all about?" he asked, frowning.

"Keep comin' un-fuckin'-tied," Joshua snapped, looking up at him, and then back down. He tugged harder with his good hand, because they didn't want to come out. He belatedly realized that Sean had called a cab anyway, they weren't walking anywhere. He plunked down in the wet grass and just pulled his shoes off altogether, sighing heavily. He gingerly touched his nose, probing at the damage.

"Don't touch - you might make it worse. What happened to your hand?" Sean asked, scooting over and picking up his shoes, looking them over, though there was nothing amazingly odd about them or anything.

As there was an uncomfortable sort of grinding sensation when he touched it anyway, Joshua stopped. It felt like they'd probably have to re-set it, and how fucked up was that that he knew that? This was broken nose number three. "Just landed on it wrong," he muttered sourly to the question. "Hurts to move."

"Right, so broken arm, broken nose - why do I let you out of my sight again?" Sean asked. "How's the shoulder?" he asked, since the arm that Joshua had apparently now broken was the same one that had been dislocated when the vampires had pulled him out of the house. And to think, only a few days ago, Sean had been thinking that the curse seemed to have been being fairly mild lately. Famous last words.

"Don't think it's broken, maybe just sprained," he said, looking down at his swollen left wrist and kind of half-poking at that too. "Shoulder's sore, but okay. ... she took most of it." Before she dumped my sorry ass, his brain added in bitterly. He took mental stock of himself. Eighteen, jobless, higher-educationless, virgin, hurt in two places -- places that most lads injured from fighting, but not him, oh no, all he had to do was walk, helplessly pissed off for no solid reason, sitting with his guardian angel and waiting for a cab to the hospital. It was hard to know whether to laugh or cry. So he just sat and thought that it all made sense and he didn't have to ask 'why' anymore.

"Let's hope, you could do with some luck lad," Sean agreed as the cab came rolling down the road. "Come on, ride's here," he said, standing and making to help his change to his feet.

"Fucking right," he muttered, taking the offered help. Mostly because he didn't trust himself not to and not make things worse. So. He took up his board with his good hand and climbed into the cab.

Sean followed on behind, muttering a quick blessing over the cab under his breath before he climbed in - you could never be too sure and apparently bad things came in threes, after all. He told the cabbie to take them to the hospital and then sat back, half an eye on his charge, half an eye on the road ahead, looking out for potential dangers.

Joshua wasn't keen on talking. At all. He just stared out the window until they arrived, then said as little as possible to the doctors and nurses, shortly answering questions in the routine he had down at home. They shot his face up with a numbing agent and re-set his nose, wrapped his wrist, and sent the two on their way back with a couple of home-care pamphlets. At home, Joshua dropped them on the messy coffee table and flopped onto the couch, letting loose a sigh. "Guess I should be glad I didn't catch it in the eye," he said darkly.

"At least your arm wasn't broken," Sean offered, but he could tell that it was scant comfort to the boy. Then again, Joshua'd been in such a dark place lately, that wasn't really surprising. Sean had mostly been leaving him to get on with it - he wasn't great with brooding teenagers and he didn't want to talk about the girl. As far as Sean was concerned, the further Joshua was from her, the better and unless his charge specifically brought the subject up, Sean was going with the idea that the less she was discussed, the more likely he was to leave her behind and get on with things.

His leg bounced a little. He didn't want to talk about Lullaby either, but that didn't mean he wasn't thinking about her. A lot. Probably too much. But he figured that was probably going to happen for a while. He needed a job. Or to go to school. Or ... something distracting. God, why didn't he have any hobbies or anything to fall back on in times like these? He had a Gameboy somewhere, but that'd only keep his hands occupied and now his wrist was fucked up. It just sucked. But whining about Lulu out loud wasn't something he wanted to do anymore. So, for something to stare at, he picked up the remote and turned the tv on.

He watched the teen and shook his head a little. "Want me to leave you to it?" he offered, figuring that the guy looked like he wanted to be left alone. He'd be keeping a close eye, since Joshua appeared to be having a seriously bad day, but he could do that without being in his face about it.

Joshua glanced over. "You pay rent, you can hang out if you want to," he said. Watching television wasn't the same as talking, and he didn't mind sitting in silence. Kind of preferred it right now, in fact, while the throb slowly started to come back into his face. His ego hurt more at the moment, and he just wanted to bury that for a while.

Sean raised an eyebrow and paused for a moment, but in the end went and sat down in one of the chairs - though 'sprawled' might have been a better term for it - and turned to whatever was on TV. "You're too kind," he said, his tone somewhat sarcastic.

"Your mama's too kind," he muttered, though it was more in an amiable sort of way. Wasn't Sean's fault. Joshua propped his head up with his good hand and flipped around with one finger until he found something suitably mind-numbing to stare at, then proceeded to do just that. Sometimes it was fucking necessary.