NONONONONO–

....What's a lemon?

(Thank GOD)

What kind do you want? I can get some tea goin' while it's baking.

SORRY I'm... I'm gonna make a cake, okay??

Help I think I'm going to synth hell.

Do you mean Se–

I'm never gonna recover from this

IT WAS A JOKE IT'S FINE

MOM NO

Maybe Shaun is my synth name.

:0

don't cast that spell here, what the hell

Elaborate.

I was wondering why I hadn't heard her much lately.

I thought we had a level ten Ethel Cain incident.

Oh thank God.

Babe are you okay? I heard Ethel Cain @gunslingin.bsky.social

he carefully, steadily removes the wood, tending to the splintered pieces quickly with a clean pair of tweezers, wiping away grime and blood with a cloth soaked in rubbing alcohol.

Hard part done. Now to make sure that wound closed enough to get out...

"Alright. I know this won't hurt, but I am gonna start now, so hold still, alright?" He's sanitizing his hands as he talks, which is about the cleanest he can manage right now. He turns her ankle, assessing it and the angle of the spike's entry.

Once he's sure they won't worsen the damage,

He kneels and readies everything they'll need first, because this will have to be quick and it'll go faster if he's not stopping to open everything as he goes.

He's listening, trying to hear any footsteps... and the second name his mother mentions sounds familiar, but he can't place it right now.

"It sure shouldn't! Careful, I'll take it out. How about watching my back while I do?"

She always seemed to respond well to a calm tone, and he's seen enough fire (and firefights) that he can mostly keep that. If his voice shakes a little, his hands, at least, stay steady.

Thankfully.

He doesn't know the ghoul with them but he seems fine, if a little old and dazed. Without signs of pain from either Claire or Clarice, the latter is the obvious choice.

"Clarice, your foot. Mom, can you cover me while I patch her up?"

but he swings his medpack forward on his shoulder and changes his trajectory to track the wounded. He's glad instinct made him find it before running.

And even happier when he finds its source.

"Mom! Clarice –"

It takes him a second to figure out who's actually wounded.

"Mom?! Mom!" Her home had been his first stop when the fighting started (again, God...) but finding it empty, he had to search elsewhere. On his way, he found fresh blood streaking the ground, and paced wide enough to know it came from someone running.

For just that moment he hesitates,

complicated right now - but that's not something he needs to worry her with.

Instead, he braces to worry her with, "Uh... I'll be around a while, but mostly on bed rest and light duty. It's nothing bad!"

"Marriage-??" He almost sputters and falls into laughter. One would think he'd be used to it by now. He shakes his head and takes a chair.

"I just got back into town, Mom, I haven't even [seen] Theo yet. Not! That I'm saying we're ready for that yet."

Especially not when things felt a little

Theo doesn't smell like it.

"Didn't think I did." His quiet grin tugs into a slight wince when Theo's embrace jostles his shoulder. He tries to mask it by turning with the other arm around Theo's shoulders, guiding him towards the house he'd use near the infirmary.

"...You haven't been smoking." Or at least,

"A little, probably. It burned first, though. And yeah, it was a long stint I guess, you know how busy winter gets for supplying settlements."

He follows her in, glancing back before the door closes.

"So... adoption, huh? I guess I [was] away a while."

"[You're] something nice." He really wishes he had a better line than that, but he's footsore, exhausted, and his shoulder's starting to throb again. He pulls Theo back in anyway, just holding him in a hug a good while, breathing him in.

"Wanna go back to my place and 'catch up' a while?"