Diamond in the Rough

The sky was dark.

There was something wrong with that fact. Something off. It shouldn't have been dark.

The white dress she had donned for the occasion was near covered in dirt and grit, torn in some places where she'd tripped and completely gone in other places. She had bumps and bruises all over her body, and scrapes along her arms and palms. Her healing hadn't quite kicked back in yet. Grime near covered her face, instead in almost-suspicious streaks down her cheeks. Strands of hair were falling out of the elegant bun she'd spent so much time on before she left and now- now-

The force she used to yank the door open nearly pulled it from the door, and she almost slammed it just as hard before a spark had her back, hand out and fingers splayed to stop the door just before it made any noise. She paused there, staring at her hand against the smooth wood before her eyes prickled, and she was in motion again.

Walking as calmly as she was able, she made a beeline for the bathroom, trying to keep her expression impassive. The slight limp she'd developed on her way here had her wondering if she should have gone to a different house but there was something... something that she was supposed to do here, though the details of that were fuzzy beneath the single fact that kept making the intensity of the heat behind her eyes increase.

The tunnels had been completely empty.

Soft music played from the speakers hidden about the house. Feliks did not wish to play it too loud for fear that the song might wake him up - although the irony would be it had in fact been the music that had helped lull the boy to sleep this time. The lights were dimmed - another trick to try and get Adrian off to dream land - except for the few lights hovering just around the easel Feliks was seated upon. In his hand he had a piece of charcoal, and he was slowly smudging in details of the sleeping boy in the playpen. He should have been in his crib, Feliks knew that - but Adrian had been touchy that night, impossible to go to sleep, when he finally had crashed, sound asleep amongst his toys, his father had been afraid to move him.

And the light had been perfect for drawing anyway.

The door, although opening silently enough, had the sudden effect to sway his hand just a little bit. His eyes glanced to the figure he had been expecting hours ago, and ignored the tiny smudge that had developed on his page. Although he wouldn't have admitted it, she was in large part of the reason he was still where he was. He had expected her back, and yet time had kept going by and she was no there. No written or even spoken agreement said she had to always come back - and it could have been perfectly likely she went to stay, where ever she went - but, Feliks had lately been finding he couldn't be rid of her. He assumed it must have been Adrian (there was hardly any other allure to the apartment), but whatever the draw she always came back.

Feliks didn't realize he was worrying at all, until she walked through the door, dishevelled, and gave him something to worry about. He'd been worrying too much lately, it was becoming a habit. He didn't even know where he'd learned to do so.

It was only the fact that she was trying to be normal - and perhaps the limp - that allowed Feliks to get to the bathroom door before she did. His hand was already resting firmly against it, keeping it closed as she went for the handle.

He met her gaze and raised an eyebrow.

"You missed dinner."

Her fingers curling around the door handle only gave her a false sense of security. She gave the thing a halfhearted tug as his hand came to rest on the door, and she found herself looking up into his eyes. Dropping her gaze to the floor, she shrugged a shoulder, subtly shifting her weight off her bad leg.

"Lost track of time." She murmured truthfully, keeping her gaze safely between her own feet. She frowned slightly, realizing for the first time that one of her shoes was missing. Perhaps that was why she'd been limping. "I can make dinner two nights in a row to make up for it, okay?"

Her focus was momentarily taken by the center of the room as Adrian shifted, rolling slightly to cuddle into Nightmare. The familiar had waited for her outside the tunnel entrance, and was now in kitten form curled up beside the sleeping child. She let out a soft breath as he remained asleep, and then looked up at his father with an emotionless expression.

She gave the door another tug. "Is there a reason you're stopping me from taking a shower?" She asked. Karma probably would have pulled off exasperated if her voice hadn't caught, but instead she ended up sounding almost pathetic, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Looking away again, she took a deep breath through her nose and swallowed thickly. What was with him anyway? So she'd missed dinner, that wasn't a good enough reason for him to be on her case. It wasn't like she'd left Adrian alone or something like that. It was barely anything of note. Surely he wasn't that upset about it.

Feliks nodded his head slowly, staying silent as she continued to talk. His palm was still flat against the door as if it could actually do something should she really decide she wished to get into the bathroom. Feliks was a badass, there was no one he would find who would deny that, but Karma had above human abilities on her side.

"Must have been, so thrilling for you to lose that much time," he quipped. Knowing that it was exactly the opposite. But he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to talk about it (Though he supposed what else was he doing there?) and she certainly didn't. Confronting it head on would get him no where.

He took his hand off the door and shrugged. Folding his arms over his chest he leaned back against the wall. There was a slight smudge on the door from the charcoal on his hand, a smudge that he replicated on his shirt. He didn't notice or care.

"Is there a reason you look like you got into the losing end of a fight? Then again, at least you aren't bleeding from gaping gun wounds on my floor again. "

His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he went over to Adrian, watching him sleep as she decided if she was staying or going.

Karma, for a moment, looked like she might actually tell him, but the threat of tears and his second comment stopped her. As if she had wanted to be shot and sent to him? As if she had planned on collapsing into his apartment? No, if she'd had any odd thought of wanting to open up to him, that was long gone.

"Careful, Feliks." She said, tone almost darker than her expression. "You might slip up and act like you care."

She was safely inside the bathroom after those words, door shut and locked, shower running. The steam was rising already - a byproduct of having it on the highest setting - frizzing her matted hair ever so slightly as she pulled off her dress, throwing it in a heap into the sink. Her anger, however, was dissipating as quickly as it had flared, and she was already regretting her words. No, regret wasn't the right word... she was disappointed that she had let them fly toward him. It wasn't like he cared anyway.

Slipping out of the remainder of her clothing, she stepped under the scathing water, relieved to feel the burning sensation. Physical pain she could deal with. Whatever was happening inside her... not so much. Curling into a ball in the corner of the tub, she allowed the tears to come, to burst through her walls and completely tire her out. She let them fall into the water that was brown with silt and dust, and she even let slip a few quiet sobs. It wasn't like anyone could hear them over the running water unless their ear was to the door, and she doubted Feliks would waste the energy.

An hour and a half later, scrubbed clean and smelling like whatever soap Feliks had had lying around, she stepped from the shower, feeling cleaner but not all the more better. The knot in her chest that had brought her to tears had loosened ever so slightly, but it was far from gone. Staring down at the mess of fabric in the sink, she frowned. It hardly looked like the pristine white dress she had insisted on buying at the store. She had loved that dress. Just another thing to add to the growing list of things she loved that she ruined.

It was staring at the dress that she realized that she had no other clothing with her. Cursing under her breath she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, thanking whoever was writing that it was long enough to come to her thighs. Hair now matted with water, almost forced to be tamed with the weight of the water still trapped in the strands. A few droplets made their way along skin to the towel, and the sensation of it made her shiver. Hypersensative skin would be a bitch when she opened the door.

The was proven true when the blast of colder air hit her, and she shivered again. Stepping out into the main room, her eyes swept her surroundings. She didn't know where her things were. In reality, she didn't have a pair of pajamas with her, and had been sleeping in the clothes she'd worn. She didn't have a clean change of clothes left. Moving to stand before him, she met his eyes briefly before looking away, eyes in search of Adrian.

"May I borrow a change of clothes?" Her voice was relatively even, despite the slight red to her eyes and the chills brushing against her skin. She hadn't even thought to dry off before walking out here - a poor choice the air was sure to make her regret. She didn't even know what she'd do if he said no, apparate to her home after she stepped outside? In this neighborhood? Briefly, she wondered if she could fight off a gang without losing her towel. She supposed she could, but it would be difficult, and she didn't want to bother extending the effort.

He felt a little twinge as the door was closed in his face. That had not exactly gone as planned. Not that he even had a plan, but the outcome he presently had was not the one he had been going for. Frowning, attempting to sort himself out, he stayed where he was, leaning beside the door, glancing back to it every now and again. There were noises but nothing too clear for him to pick out. It didn't matter - Feliks grew up with four sisters, he knew what girl's with the expression like Black's went to do in the bathroom. And it wasn't anything for the less innocent mind to smirk over.

Cracking his knuckles, slowly a thoughtful expression appeared on his face before he was moving across the room, and quietly rummaging through the kitchen. Every time he made a sound that was too loud he glanced sharply over his shoulder, but Adrian never awoke. Satisfied that he actually had what he wanted, Feliks set out his treasures on the table before glancing back at the bathroom. She still wasn't out.

Pacing restlessly for a few moments more, Feliks made a move towards the playpen thinking about finally moving Adrian to his crib, but thought better of it. He still didn't want to wake the boy up. Instead he went back to his easel, grabbing the charcoal from where he left it. That was where he was, putting the finishing touches, just smudging the last of the shadows, when she finally came out. Silently he stood, brushed his smudgy hands on his jeans and went into his room. When he returned he had a worn, soft t-shirt and draw string track pants with him. He tossed both of them to her gently.

Hesitating half a second, shoulders stiff with his own awkwardness he went back to the kitchen area, returning with the glass of warm milk and plate of cookies by the time she was changed. He wasn't even aware if Black wanted to eat them, but he supposed that wasn't the point.

"My mother, use to always give me this when things didn't work out the way I planned them," he found himself refraining from saying upset, though he hardly knew why. "You don't have to, like eat them - my pride will survive - but I just thought... she also use to sing, but I'll spare you that." Setting the items on the table by the couch he nodded running a hand through his hair and sitting down.

He was silent for a long moment, and then glancing at his drawing he finally spoke up.

"Drew Adrian today. Its not anywhere close to life, its still missing so much, but it's something, right? And I was thinking, you know maybe," he looked up at the rest of the wall he hadn't finished, "I think maybe he'd be a good fit for the space."

Catching the clothing in one hand, she turned to go, ignoring the look on his face. She cracked the door to slip the clothing on, drying her hair hurriedly. She didn't know why she was rushing, maybe she thought that if she rushed she wouldn't have to face him, she could curl up on her couch and not have to face him. She could- could-

His clothes on her were baggy, but soft and warm. After using his soap she smelled like him, and being in his clothing didn't help that either. Wrapping her arms around herself, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and it was almost like a hug. Almost.

Walking out of the bathroom, she shot a look at the kitchen, stopping to look down at Adrian. He looked so... peaceful. His sleep had obviously been restless, and she was beginning to suspect that he was always like that whenever they weren't both present. Reaching into the playpen, she pulled Adrian up to her chest, unbothered by the way he shifted slightly to make himself comfortable. He gave a sigh that sounded a lot like 'ma', though it may have just been wishful thinking.

Laying the child into his crib, she pressed a fond kiss to his forehead and sighed. She didn't know what she was getting into with him. Everyone knew that kids left- it was something that every rom com and half-family movie had sold for ages. She didn't think it was healthy, setting herself up like this, but she couldn't abandon the little guy. She'd been abandoned too much in life, and she would never wish it on anyone.

Closing the door to the bedroom behind her, she wrapped her arms around herself again, wandering toward his easel. Her hand extended, fingers spread as if to touch, but she never did. "I told you you would get it back." Instead of touching his artwork, her arm wound its way back around her waist, and she looked up at the mural, before down at the small plate of cookies. Her eyes seemed to be caught on them, and whatever her mind was doing was foreign to her.

Curling up on the side of the couch - unconsciously taking up as little space as she could - she reached for the glass of milk, holding it in both hands in her lap and looking down at it. The liquid was warm, comforting... present.

"Thank you." The words were soft, almost inaudible, but they were there. Bringing the glass to her lips, she took a sip, thankful for the small bit of warmth the milk brought her. It left a half mustache on her upper lip, comical under any other context. Content to just hold the warm glass now, she hesitated before opening her mouth, focus almost completely on the glass, though her awareness of him was dizzying. He was here. Here.

A lot of others weren't.

"I'm sorry." Those weren't the words she had expected, but she meant them just as well. Her voice turned bitter, and she couldn't stop them. "Those words weren't for you."

He appraised his work as he waited for her to speak. Resisting the urge to fidget uselessly he leaned out and snagged one of the cookies off the plate. She seemed more focused on the milk now anyway. His mother always use to eat more of the cookies than he did anyway - it seemed only right he stole the tradition. He briefly wondered what the woman would think of the situation he'd gotten himself in now - then he stopped unsure which situation he was thinking of.

The cookie disappeared in a few bites, and he was left with just watching her. Making herself smaller than usual seemed unusual to him, the girl who enjoyed to be larger than life. This was the moment he wished that he was anyone else, were anywhere else. He didn't know what to do with these things. Did he make her talk? Let her keep it to herself? Why did he even care? It wasn't his problem. She was upset, she had a bad day - she would move on eventually, why did it have to be his problem? Why did he care?

He didn't know the answers to any of those questions, but he knew that he did in fact care.

"Do you think I'd be asking for trouble? Letting Adrian paint on the walls now?" he was playing distraction even as he was debating probing for answers. He couldn't make up his mind on which was better, so in the end, he was just going to do both until something happened.

He reached for another cookie.

"Do you mind telling me who they were meant for then? Just for... let's call it interests sake."

Karma looked up at the mural. Thought of the hours it had taken for them to paint it all, the talking and happiness it had brought them both- or at least brought her. She was done assuming she could make anyone else happy.

"You'd have to get child-friendly paint, and that stuff isn't that good." She observed, though it was obvious that her heart wasn't really in the discussion. She ran a finger around the rim of the glass, back to looking at it. She had yet to look at him, and it wasn't exactly bothering her, but she didn't have the... well... she didn't want to-

She didn't know how to think of it, so the thought stayed there, incomplete, while a million words in a hundred languages flew through her mind, trying to find the right one, until finally she did.

Immeritevole.

Soon came its translations. Undeserving. Unworthy.

Worthless.

Tears came to her eyes, but she bit her tongue and ducked her head. She didn't want him to see how weak the circumstances had made her. She didn't want Liks, strong, sure Liks, to have to bear her own burdens. Knowing that he was trying helped, it helped her a lot, but it didn't fix what was wrong with her. It didn't fix whatever made them all run away. It was times like this that she thought the world would be better without her in it. Happier. Stabler. Less broken.

Not that she could abandon anyone here. No, she could wait for them to leave her too.

"Everyone." The words were slipping out of her mouth without her permission, and unconsciously she curled closer into herself, as if she could shield herself from saying it. "They all just... go. It's probably not even me they're thinking about, but it doesn't matter. They have their own priorities, their own problems, and I'm not high enough on their priority lists for them to stay. I get it. They leave, they don't come back. That's how it's always been. I was just stupid enough to believe it would change. That maybe I could mean enough- be valuable enough- to someone that they would at least hesitate before they-" Her voice stopped, trembled like her lips before she shook her head.

"I searched for you after you left. Did you know that?" She asked quietly. "Brought you all new paints. But you weren't here, and you weren't home. You weren't anywhere." She disappeared briefly, using vampiric speed to go to her backpack, and then she was back in the same exact position, a small, highly abused piece of wrinkled paper in her palm. She held it out to him, unsure of what she wanted, but offering it anyway. "But at least you left a note. Do you know how worried I was? I didn't know- I didn't know anything. All I could figure is that you were gone, just like that, and I didn't even-" A single tear escaped, trailing down her cheek unnoticed. "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

Even if she wasn't accusing him, perhaps not even thinking him, Feliks was a smart young man - despite his failures. He could figure out which category he fell into - and he fell into the ones that left. The truth was though, he hadn't been thinking about anyone - he didn't think there was anyone around left thinking about him. He honestly didn't think anyone would notice the difference. Ritter and his other tormentees probably through a party the day he didn't come back. His only power in that school had been to pettily victimize anyone he could.

He didn't regret it, not quite. There were parts of his bullying that were genuine drive to help - he liked when they stood up to him. In an odd way it made him proud. But he wasn't always proud of himself, because he could pick on those who, until he prodded them too far, wouldn't pick back.

"Maybe they did hesitate, a bit. Not enough - which hardly means anything does it? - but if you weren't there you can't know you weren't there in their thoughts some how," he didn't really know where the response came from, but it came anyway. He opened his mouth into an 'oh', ready to respond to her next statement but she was gone and back before he could. Reaching out a hand, he took the piece of paper, familiar yet different than when he'd last seen it.

I give up. Was written in large, messy letters. It was evidently written quickly and with frustration. In the bottom corner almost as an after thought, there was added, I'm sorry.

At the time, Feliks had no idea why he was bothering writing the thing at all. The whole thing had been an after thought. He had assumed it had just been another way to vent his frustration, but reflection would indicate writing was hardly his usual source for that. He looked back up at the girl on the end of his couch and wondered if he had known the reason after all.

His hand snaked out hesitant and completely on its own as he noticed the tear. He didn't recognize his own hand as it wiped it away, lingered for half a second and then pulled back, resting where it had started, "You didn't have to say goodbye; I turned up again - much to everyone's misfortune I know." He gave an odd laugh, smirking through his discomfort. "So, really, I just wrote a be right back."

Her mouth opened, ready to shoot a denial - surely if they'd cared, if they'd really hesitated, they wouldn't have left at all - but his words made sense, and hell, she'd left just as quickly as they must have before she'd gone to train. She had made sure to tell everyone she could that she was going, however, and if anyone had asked, they would know that she had gone away, and when she was coming back. "Maybe I was." She murmured, and though she didn't think it, her expression lightened by the slightest degree, making her look just a fraction more together. "But not even that was enough to make them stay. None of it was."

But something was wrong with that. Something was off. Maybe his perspective had changed hers, or maybe it was the connection that she had made about leaving herself. Was she really selfish enough to think that everyone around her should let every opportunity pass them by, that they should never go anywhere without her, just for the fact that she wouldn't worry?

Was it really so selfish to want a heads up? A goodbye?

Her arms had wrapped around her middle again, keeping her from falling apart. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend it was an embrace. She could imagine dark hair and red-

Her eyes flew open, but she said nothing. She didn't want to think about that. Really, it had only been a matter of time. She was surprised that he'd waited until she had left to up and vanish, but really, that was probably what she would have done in his place, wasn't it?

No, she realized. She would have waited, just like she'd waited for him last time.

That had obviously been her first mistake.

Her eyes closed against his touch, and she was leaning into it slightly without thinking, starved for the contact that it brought. Slowly opening her eyes, she looked up at him, expression as vulnerable as it had ever been. A part of her wanted to cry again, to see if he'd repeat the action, but the rest of her dismissed the thought just as quickly. Whether it was pride or the thought that if she started to cry again, she probably wouldn't be able to stop, she was done with tears. Even the ones that got rewarded.

It was then that Karma realized that she was still staring into Feliks's eyes.

She looked down at her lap, ducking her chin to hide her expression from him. "Not mine." She admitted. "I was glad you came back. You and Bedalito." The young vampiress had already curled herself against the thought of rejection, so there was no need to try and get smaller. She didn't think that was physically possible without breaking a few bones in any case. "You make me happy." She said softly. "Both of you."

Spoiler:

He watched her react to his touch. It seemed... part of his logical mind was stating that maybe he should do it again. Wasn't that what his mother, and his sisters always did with each other when they were upset. Touch seemed to be a comfort to them. But Feliks didn't even know if he could do that, if she wanted him to do that. He made it a strict rule he didn't touch most people unless he was punching them.

Punching Karma wasn't really going to help this situation. And he was sure he didn't want to.

"He was glad you showed up too. Can you imagine how unfortunate his life would have been if he was stuck with just me?" he smirked, though his eyes didn't quite touch it. "I am flawless and all, but I hear children should have a mother figure - and I'm not very motherly." He looked down at his hands, picking at his nails before adding an honest, but almost sounding defensive, "I suppose I'm happy, or something, that you're around too."

Hesitating a moment, he got up, rather suddenly from the couch the pair had been sitting on, and running off to his arts supplies, throwing them around until he found what he wanted. Pouring paint into the pain, he looked down at it and then over at the girl.

"Get your ass over here Tyurma. We're doing something."

"What?" Her voiced was filled with disbelief, but the smallest hint of a smirk was trying its best to find its way across her lips. "You? Not motherly?" Sticking her tongue out, she relaxed the slightest bit, no longer as curled as she had been.

A smile, true and genuine, spread across her face at his words, though she ducked her head to hide it. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she reached out as if to touch him - unsure of what she was doing but not hesitating, not backing down - before he was away from her, all but flying to the edge of the room. Her hand stayed there for a stunned moment before returning to her lap. Fine then. She could keep her hands to herself.

Looking up at the sound of her voice, Karma only hesitated enough to bit her bottom lip before she was walking over to him, peeking around his body to the paint he was pouring. "Is it a fun something?" She asked, brown eyes going from the paint up to Liks himself, trying to gauge his expression. "Because unfun somethings don't sound like something I can get behind."

Looking down at the hand on his arm for a moment he smiled ever so slightly - the action was a shadow on his face, barely noticed and underrated, however it was so uncommon on his face that it made an impression none the less.

"Do you think I would do something that is unfun? Why would I waste my time on that Tyurma?" Reaching over slightly he balanced the paint filled pan in one hand and grabbed her wrist with his other. Slowly he guided it into the paint, pressing it flat into the green paint. Pulling it back out he let the excess drip for a few moments before he slowly dragged her over to the wall, using whatever means necessary got get them both level with where he thought the space would be best filled. Picking up her hand again he pressed it against the wall firmly, holding it there for a second before he pulled it back. He nodded at the perfect hand print that had been left there.

"There. Now you're always here. Always somewhere."

A hesitant smile crossed her face to follow his, even as wide brown eyes looked up at him. Soon, her eyes were following her hand in his, frowning down at her palm as it was immersed in green paint. Her head cocked to the side ever so slightly as she watched the green paint drip from her fingers.

She paused for a second, socks slipping over the wood floor as she hesitated. Glancing up at the boy, she followed, letting him lead her to the wall. Her hand felt... odd, against the wall. Electric, even before he explained.

For a moment, she just stared, completely frozen until she looked down at her palm. The paint was still there, still present. Without hesitation, she took his hand, holding her palm against his. The paint wouldn't transfer as easily, she knew that, but what she knew and what she was doing weren't matching up.

After a few seconds of this, she smiled genuinely again, pulling him forward and towards the wall. Letting go of his hand, she took it in her unpainted on and pressed it into the wall as well.

"There." She said, not quite realizing how close her pull had brought them. He was at her back now, his arm winding around her to reach the wall. "Now you're always here too." She leaned back slightly, tilting her head to lean her forehead against his arm.

"Thank you."

He tilted his head to the side as he looked at the hands on the wall. Her's - obviously - was the most noticeable, but there had still been enough paint for his had to press firmly against the wall. The look of the two was giving him a pleased little feeling - he was sure it was just the aesthetics of the thing, as an artist.

Realising he still had the pan in his other hand he dipped his finger in the paint and began to draw soft swirls coming out from the two hands.

"And you're always beside someone too. So, whatever losers disappeared on you are negligible. Besides, Adrian would freak out so I'd never fix, if I ever became a loser too. He's too young to have been ruined like the rest of us. He knows what's good, and isn't going to let it disappear on him."

Slowly he pulled his hand back, leaving the two hands in the centre of a storm of swirls. He was rather proud of what he'd came up with.

"So I don't want to hear any more of this crap again, got it Tyurma?" His firm voice wasn't quite as harsh as it usually was.

Her gaze followed his movements, tracing each new swirl before she realized what she was seeing. Eyes widening, she unconsciously curled further into his arms as the design spread around their hands, noting the little things, like how big his hand was compared to hers, and while faded, his was just as present as hers was. Just as important.

She gave a small laugh, shaking her head slightly. "You would be fine without me, you know." She informed him, though her voice was doing something odd, as if she wasn't so sure. That was peculiar, as far as she was concerned. She was sure that they could. It was something different. Something like... well... she didn't want him- either of them to leave. "Though, I am starting to suspect that Beda doesn't sleep until we're both in his sights."

Something in her chest swelled with warmth, and then she was spinning, turning toward him and wrapping her arms around him in a solid hug. Closing her eyes, she could hear his heartbeat, and it made her smile. "Got it." She mumbled, squeezing slightly.

Then, just as it would seem that they'd been hugging for a just above average time, she unwrapped her arms and pressed her palms to his chest, shoving - as gently as could be seen as so while still breaking his hold - backwards. "Gosh, you're just a teddy bear underneath all that muscle, aren't ya Liksie?" She stuck out her tongue, though her eyes danced with gratitude. "Though, I suppose you'd have to be a regular bear... teddy bears don't really look like bears, have you noticed?" Side stepping him, she yawned, moving back across the room.

"By the way, I've decided that it's my turn to take the bed, being emotionally unstable and whatsit. Have fun on the couch." She paused at the doorway to his room, glancing over her shoulder at him before smiling again.

"Thank you, Feliks. Really." Before he could say anything she'd disappeared inside, already claiming the bed for her own.

"You don't think I-" he cut off rather suddenly as he found himself in an embrace. He frowned down at her, unsure what to do with his arms, after a long hesitation he finally settled them lightly and awkwardly around her. An uncomfortable mirror of her own actions, "He was hell to get to sleep tonight. Murdering him would have been a kindness - he deserved so much more." His tone was too light to sound like the threat it technically was. No matter how frustrated Feliks got with Adrian he had never brought out the anger he was none for. Not even he really understood where that patients had come from.

Snorting he watched her disappear into his room, glancing at his door before turning back to the kitchen. Unconcerned with her statement he grabbed the dishes off the table, tipped the glass back, drinking anything that was left before he eat the rest of the dishes. Washing paint off his hands, and put his art supplies away. He lingered for a moment on his sketch before setting it back down. He'd find somewhere for it in the morning.

Finally once all that was done, he turned back to his room, and walked casually in. Stripping down to his boxers as if it were any night, and there wasn't someone in his bed, he balled up his clothes and threw them into the corner. Rolling his shoulders, he stretched his arms in the air, before running a hand over his head and wandering over to Adrian's crib. In silence, he looked down at the boy for a long moment, his expression softening to one he only used in moments like this. Feliks let out a soft breath, reached down to fix the blankets and other beddings before brushing the boys hair and finally turning towards the bed.

"You get this half Tyurma," picking up the girl, he held her against him for less than a second before he plopped her back down squarely on the right half of the bed. "Learn to stay on it. I don't do kicking, flailing or any other annoying night time habits." Walking around the bed again, he crawled into his usual side, turned with his back towards her, he pulled the blankets back up and was smirking a little to himself. "Sleep well, Love."