Oliver Burton

It would have been humorous, if the reality of the situation wasn't so blatantly dismal. However, that pitched shriek destroyed that, that sound of horror so left the demure woman cut through the nearly destroyed home she noticed the polar bear was gone. Replaced by a nude man with a soft pillow plucked from her couch, the only thing concealing himself, for her modest sake. Guilt washed his agony ridden face, that bullet making even standing uncomfortable. Nudity hardly bothered the English man in the slightest, perhaps one of the few perks of being a were and a self-assured male but that hardly helped the now embarrassed vampire! If only that act of modesty was enough, the woman was utterly taken aback, if not, in actual shock considering the absolute mayhem they had gone through that night alone.

The outcome could have been far worse, the blood-hungry dark-hunters on their trail could have traced them back to Chizue's quiet home. Small blessings at the very least. Floorboards could be mended, crumbs could be cleaned up and memories could soothe and fade in time. Or so he hoped. But lives could not be restored. He had killed a man, in front of her, albeit a very bad man who caused the Asian woman considerable distress. Those predatory instincts to protect overriding every other sense, only to keep her safe. Even now, he had still stood by those instincts. All over a briefcase... He nearly shook his head in dismay at the thought, his eyes trailing to where she indicated the remnants of those once precious papers resided, disorganized and perhaps most even in ruin. How it hardly seemed to matter now. The overworked man was simply glad to keep them both alive. And despite, the woman being a little embarrassed, that reddened hue to her cheeks and frazzled appearance, he had at least accomplished that.

Now to get the lodged bullet out from his flesh, that very wound throbbing, a steady reminder of it making it impossible to forget any longer. She attempted to avoid eye contact as much as possible as Oliver tried desperately to lighten that mood. Perhaps she preferred him as a bear? However, it would be far harder to remove a bullet from an unpredictable animal than a nude male, or so he thought, he was beginning to question himself, his brow furrowing in contemplation. Finally it was then that she answered that question about the now deceased warlock, his nutmeg hued eyed flooded with a wave of harsh concern. "What do you mean he kidnapped you? Why?" He questioned, that overbearing mogul was back in a flash of an instant, his posture instantly shifting as though growing larger and far more dominant. That frown that marred her face even as she started intently upon that first aid kit, as if trying to either make herself smaller or get lost somewhere else. How that warlock should have suffered far before now. Someone should have been held accountable, should have paid for the timid woman's suffering. How for a moment, he was glad it had been him to send him from this world. It was a visceral thought, one that should have bothered the Englishman and yet there was not a single ounce of guilt besides putting the woman through more hardship. God knows she has been through enough. "He should have been dealt with before he got to you a second time." A slew of questions burst suddenly, a fusillade of missiles in his mind.

He wanted to understand, to piece together all the holes that were left gaping wide in that story she hardly shared at all. It was not his place to intervene and yet how he could hardly help himself in that moment, a rumble of a growl forming within his threats to escape him all the same, his masculine features taking on a stern resolve. In a bid for composure, He grits his teeth, nearly losing himself in this need to protect. What was wrong with him? "I suppose it hardly matter now, he won't be bothering you any longer." Those rich tones uttered in near soft defeat. No wonder why she was so frightened of him, he seemed just as the monster he had murdered. "I'm sorry you had to see that." How rare it was for an apology to escape him and yet there it was. In fact, he could hardly remember the last time he apologized... for anything at all. But he meant it.

He began to move forward, but the movement reminded him of that pesky bullet still embedded deeply within his fleshy leg. It hurt like hell, so he remains where he was. But he was adamant he didn't want a doctor, he couldn't afford to alert too many questions, the man tracking down the last of his family was certainly bound to find out. Not that it truly made a difference, his name was sprawled on a massive sign upon his ivory tower, that business a beacon for that dreadful man who had almost single handedly exterminated a family from existence. He uttered that denial for a doctor almost too forcefully, regretting it the moment he did as the timid woman all but shrank away from the forceful tone within his gruff voice. He watched her almost curiously, he knew he was overbearing.. his very presence was enough to command a room and make lesser men quake and yet.. she seemed so jumpy, so frightened of the world, or maybe she was just terrified of him? How part of him wanted ease it away and yet it he was sure he would only make it worse, that thought alone bringing a weary sigh to his lips.

He queried for her assistance in removing that bothersome, painful bullet, her hesitation ever apparent. How he could do this without her help, made him feel far more vulnerable than being nude. "I don't exactly know how to answer that, it isn't every day that I get shot... but we start by taking it out... with tweezers or another utensil of sorts.. so I can clean and patch it up.. My own body should make somewhat short work of the rest.. It is just in a place I can't exactly see too well. Do you think you can help? Or perhaps, at the very least direct me and I can try to get it out myself." How he would pull that off he hardly knew.. but he wasn't going to force the sweet Asian woman fish out a bullet from him if she couldn't handle it. God this was going to hurt, her could already tell. Perhaps he should call..... Edgar.. his wife was entirely efficient at first aid, but his phone was all but lost to the streets of Sacrosanct. He groaned then at the realization, how was he to get home, naked across town, injured? She seemed to think of something as a rosy hued blood once again kissed her cheeks. Curious of the thought that crossed her mind at that very moment and yet set to reassure her instead.

"I promise you, miss. I assure you that I will make all of this right." She had kept her name from him and truly she couldn't blame her. But at the very least he could promise her some kind of assurances, if only to ease some of that worry from her face. " But I would be forever in your debt if you can help me with this bullet first. It kind of hurts. So much for the big scary businessman.