This was all really happening, right? Booker did not know anyone enough to call them more than just acquaintances. He found friendship in pets and other animals, and he had spent virtually all his life single. He understood the need for interaction. He understood human behavior, but actually being involved in it? Booker was the type of person who would rather read about the chemicals that release when a person is happy, how the human eye dilates when looking at someone attractive or how the heart rate increases. In fact, he was noticing how his body was doing all of this. When she gently grabs his arm, his heart rate increases even more. He firsts look at her hand, then at her face. He watches the way her lips move as she speaks, the pretty green shade of her eyes, the sincerity in her tone and words.

And all he can do is smile and nod in agreement. He feels better knowing she wasn't just doing this out of pity. And hearing her call him a good man? Booker lacked many things, and hearing compliments was certainly one of them.

That elevator ride was nerve racking still. This was all new to him and while he may have been inexperienced, Booker was still a bit surprised she was taking him to back to her place. I really hope she doesn't plan on murdering me. Everything in him was telling him this was moving fast and a bit off the beaten path, he still can't make himself turn around and leave. She was charming and witty. She's also very pretty. Irresistible seemed like a suitable word to describe Sorcha. She was able to convince Booker to follow her back to her place like some lost puppy. To mend and nurse his wounds. Hopefully she'd release him to the wild once he was better, right?

As she opens the door to her place, Booker follows and only goes inside once she does. It's much nicer than she was letting on. At least, to him it's much nicer than anything he has lived in or seen. He looks around the spacious studio for a few seconds, before replying back sarcastically, "It's very artsy and trendy." He notices her messy bedroom and wonders if everyone's sleeping space is like that. If only she could see his place; this was clean and actually looked decent, where Booker's was messy from kitchen, to living room and worst of all, his bedroom. At least we didn't go back to my place. He would have certainly put his foot down on that. Out of embarrassment, he would have blown the chance to get to know Sorcha for fear of her seeing his chaotic living situation.

If he looked like a very organized guy, people would certainly be shocked to see he was the complete opposite of that.

He obeys as she gestures for him to sit. When she places her bag on the coffee table, he's unsure what to do with his own and as he takes off his coat, he places them both (bag and coat) on the table beside her's. He picks the end of the couch to sit on, suddenly becoming very aware of just how wet he was and the sting of his split lip. He also notices that his breathing was obstructed by the drying clots of blood. He's mindful to not put his blood-stained hands on her furniture, and even then he's still getting the cushions wet. "Are you a nurse or a doctor?" He looks around her place a little more as he patiently waits for her to return with whatever it was she intended to use on his face. "Or is this a hobby of yours? Picking up strays and cleaning them up?"

He's apprehensive once it becomes clear. She's gonna be touching my face. She's gonna be close to my face. His skin crawls with the fear of knowing she's gonna be so close. He's so tense that he might shatter into a million little pieces. Part of him wants to just say that he can do it. His fingers weren't broken and certainly he could clean his own face. He looks around and to the kitchen, trying to make (or at least find) an excuse to avoid this coming contact a while longer; preferably until he could say he'd do it himself. He stands up, nervously looking at the fridge like his life depended on it. "I-I can get the drinks if you'd like? The kitchen, right?"

But part of him already knows that Sorcha wasn't going to let him get away that easy. After all, she brought a complete stranger back to her place and she seemed like a very assertive individual. Not that Booker had a problem with this. He was ready to jump if she asked him to, well, he was ready to park his ass back on the couch. But a little liquid courage seemed so ideal right now.