[devils den] the fast life keeps gaining on me. [grisha]

She'd been working on a new enchanted device when she heard the news. It wasn't like she got details, she wasn't a high enough level for that, but when Grim's team got blown up on a mission that was difficult to keep under wraps. His team, and the one that extracted them, had come home and Grisha had been in surgery for hours now and Nessa was about to stab someone if they didn't let her see him. She understood that her designation was Enchanter, not Medic, but she did not give a flying Hipogriff about that detail. She'd tried to push her way in but it wasn't long before some big dude came barreling down the hall and she was "convinced" to let the medi-wizards do their jobs and she would be allowed access once they were done.

Nessa didn't care about much but when she was loyal to someone she was in one hundred percent, there was no gray area, and Grigoriy was one of the few people who had gained that loyalty from her. She had to be there in his time of need and she would burn anything in her way to the ground. She left the Den as they ushered her out but only for a short while. Only for a long enough time to aparate to Grisha's favorite bakery to pick something up and pop back.

Thankfully by the time she returned she was given permission to enter the infirmary. She pushed her way in, not bothering to offer thanks, and found the bed where he was laying. She saw the wood and metal bits in the pan next to his bed, the watered down metal bowls of blood, and the magical ointments. It must of been a lot worse than the rumors were letting on. She took a moment to just look at everything before she turned to him. "Did they do the stitch right?" She asked, hating not being in control. "What the bloody hell happened, are you okay?" She asked, the Irish accent bleeding through her words like it often did when she was upset. She worried for him and it showed.

"I brought you something, if you want it.." She said, she'd spent enough time around injuries to know that some potions made the idea of food vomit inducing. She was clever enough to place a spell on the food that kept the smell of it from wafting just in case. It was his favorite, angel food cake with whipped cream and fruit from a little mom and pop bakery that no one had ever heard of. She remembered the detail and smiled as she pulled the bag up high enough that he'd be able to read the logo if he could focus on it.

Grisha stared at the ceiling and at the pretty lights, amazed at how they floated. He was high off a wave of pain killers and topicals, and it was great. He couldn't even remember the last of the shrapnel being pulled from his back, only that he was wrapped from head to toe in gauze that was coated in something that made him feel as if he was glowing from the outside in. He swallowed softly, laughing a little to himself. How would he know that he'd have to get destroyed to make sure that he was going to get a good night's sleep? He didn't even feel guilty about how some of his people had died. He was just on this wave of euphoria that he couldn't escape, and he didn't quite want to.

That was maybe why he wasn't as confused as he should been when Nessa appeared in the room. He was so happy to see a familiar face that it didn't bother him that Nessa wasn't supposed to be there. Only people who were part of the organization were supposed to be in the back, and even though Nessa was fierce, she couldn't bypass that rule. Instead of asking why she was there, he gave her a brilliant smile. "Queenie..." He rasped, his voice low and gritty. He coughed deeply at the dryness of his throat. "Water." He said, waving his hand at the small table in the corner.

"I...food?" He saw the bag, and his pale eyes lit up. He reached up a wrapped arm and waved over to her. "Feed me. I'm hungry." He could taste the whipped cream in his mouth and licked his lips, and wanted her to move closer. "All I taste are potions, Q. Please." He begged, eyes sliding to the side a little.

"There are two of you..." And he giggled.

The nickname he had for her always made her smile a little because she felt in her own mind that she was a queen. Maybe not a queen of a lot of people and definitely not beloved but she did walk around like she had a bit of royalty in her blood. Maybe it was because of her family name, or her intelligence, or maybe it was just because she grew up to be insufferably confident. Either way she appreciated the pet name more than she'd ever let him know. When he called for water she turned around to start tearing open the cabinets, in a moment she found an empty plastic cup wrapped with more plastic. Using her free hand and the wand she kept hidden on the inside of her leather jacket she quickly conjured some fresh water. It wasn't unlike the Irish witch to take over a place, even somewhere she'd never been, and act like it all belonged to her. She turned back toward the injured wizard and passed him the water, feeling as close to what others might call sympathy as she could muster. She didn't feel bad for him, she knew he had signed up for this and he was tough as nails, but that didn't stop her from worrying about him either.

Sometimes he was serious and scary and sometimes he was goofy and caught her off guard but never did he come across as needy or vulnerable. It was strange to see him in this light, the fluorescent lights bouncing off his paled skin as he asked her to feed him. "Okay..." she said with very little enthusiasm. Nessa was good at the technical side of healing, she could patch up a cut in seconds but she lacked the compassion for the emotional side of things. Even with someone she cared about as much as Grisha it was lost on her. She did her best though, assuming he probably wouldn't notice that she didn't exactly fall into the care giver role very naturally. She set the bag on the counter, emptied the contents, and brought the dish and a fork back to his bed side just as he began to giggle.

The way he smiled and laughed was more free than she had ever seen him before. He might not of been the most stern and stoic wizard she'd ever known but he was far from carefree, she could tell that the things he did weighed on him or at the very least he took it home with him. Sometimes when he wasn't paying attention to her she'd see him staring off into the distance, his mind heavy and she knew better than to ask for details. "I'll move slowly than shall I?" She replied quickly, flashing him a smile and moving in slow motion for a moment, actually making a joke. She knew he wasn't quite lucid so asking him what had happened might not warrant the most reliable answers but she couldn't let this opportunity pass her by either. She sat on the bed lightly, making sure to not jostle him as she did, her lithe frame barely making an impression. She held the fork, adorned with just the right amount of everything, toward him and wondered if he would see two of it as well. "Weeks ago you said things were getting bad, is this what you meant?" She pried, not above taking advantage of him but only because she was too curious for her own good. She would ask questions, maybe get more information than he might normally supply, but she would never betray his trust. She knew better than that.

 His full lips formed into a big pout as he stared at Nessa. “I can’t lift my arms, baby…” He whined, staring at her with the poutiest look. “I’m just a body. If you want, you can sit on my face…” He wiggled his brows at her before coughing, moving his arm to his chest. Blood splattered from his mouth, and he leaned over to the side of the table, spitting out the blood. “That’s fucking gross.” He muttered to himself, before leaning against the bed. He turned his eyes towards Nessa, able to see her more clearly.

As she moved slowly, he laughed. She was so funny, his queenie. One of the men at the Den had been asking about her, and he didn’t know why, but he’d blacked out, and then the man was on the floor, toothless and silently screaming. Grisha wasn’t the jealous sort usually, but there was something about one of them talking about her like she wasn’t his. She was fucking his, and they would respect that.

Grigoriy rested his head on her arm, looking at the bite of food before leaning forward and taking it in his mouth. He leaned back against her, slowly chewing. “You remember?” He asked, slightly startled. As much time as he spent around Nessa, he was always surprised that she listened to the things that he said. Shaking it off, he nodded. “Yeah. This was it. The house exploded, Nessa. We were all just eating, then BOOM.” He moved his hands in the gesture of an explosion, looking proud of himself.

She snorted at his comment about sitting on his face, not in the least ashamed by her intrigue in the idea. Though she assumed if he was slurring his words he probably didn't have a whole lot of control over the muscles in his mouth, so it would be for naught. "Maybe... later.." She said, caught off guard by him leaning over and spitting out blood. It wasn't her floor to clean so she wasn't even a little bit concerned about that but she was slightly troubled by the fact that he was coughing up blood. She fought the urge to put the light of her wand up to his face, checking his eyes and then poking him in the ribs with it to see if he had internal bleeding. She assumed the big boss man hired the best, skimping on medical care for operatives seemed like bad business but still she was uneasy. Trust and faith didn't exactly come naturally for the dark witch. She wrinkled her nose at him and busied herself with his food once more.

The look on her face clearly registered what she wasn't saying 'of course I remember', but she wasn't sure if he would notice it in his current state. She listened to every detail he afforded her and she was a logical analyst, she could put the pieces together if she had enough of them. Sometimes she wondered if that was why he never gave her much information about his business dealings, because she would figure out exactly what he was up to all too quickly. She had her assumptions about him and they were becoming more and more clear with each passing night she spent in the bowels of the den. For now it was a secret, possibly the only one she kept from him: that she too was working for Oogie's organization. It was in a smaller capacity of course but still she was nervous that if he knew it would change their dynamic. She was worried it wouldn't be the same, and it probably wouldn't, and for once she was actually clinging to something.

"Well who would just blow up a house Grisha?" She asked quickly, pushing for more information while she still could. It didn't make sense now but that was because she didn't have any of the story. She had no idea where he was or why he was there when it happened, no clue about the shit show that had just gone down or the kinds of things he was wrapped up in. It was probably for the best in all actuality. She was a vindictive and possessive witch at her best and if she knew who had nearly blown up one of the few people she cared enough for to spoon feed bedside she might of been out for blood. She would probably just get herself into trouble mixing into his business but she couldn't stop herself. "Is it over now?"