The Ripper

William Jack Holloway

Hunter baby. They were perhaps two words that should have had him frowning at her, and yet he couldn't deny the almost giddy look he gave her at the nickname. God, how smitten the Hunter was coming to be with the woman. He fully expected that she would wiggle out of his grasp and dart out of the room, but he was even more thrilled when she did the opposite. He moved as needed to let the girl get comfortable against his body before he finally pressed his chest against her back. It was so odd to hold a woman like this - after all, the gentleman had never been like this with anyone before. In his youth, holding a woman like this would have been something reserved entirely for marriage. In his Hunter years, he had been entirely too preoccupied with keeping himself safe to ever consider what it would be like to care about another person in such a way. No, Vhalla was proving to be a series of firsts for the Hunter. Still, it was only natural for the man to curl around her and within moments, his body was falling into that deep sleep that his healing form desperately needed.

It was entirely too short a time to sleep before his body roused, his form reaching out without opening his eyes to attempt to find that body that he had grown quickly accustomed to having near him even in just a few short hours. A small whine escaped the man as he realized she wasn't curled up next to him. "Vhalla?" William murmured into the pillow as his eyes fluttered open. Immediately, the light had him wincing. His head throbbed in a way that he hadn't expected - though he had had it slammed against a brick wall just twelve hours before. The Hunter's entire form ached from the injuries that he had sustained. He was healing - slowly. And while that healing was certainly greater than what his mortal counterpart might have had, it was certainly not fast enough for the Hunter.

The room tilted so abruptly to the left as he pushed himself to that sitting position. For a moment, the Hunter was left to simply drop his head into his hands. The groan that escaped him was a pitiful one. He'd never been one to handle pain, and this headache certainly seemed to threaten his threshold for how much he could handle. When he finally managed to open his eyes again, he was relieved to find the mug on the nightstand. "Tea?" He murmured hopefully as he leaned over to pick up the mug. The sight of the black liquid saw his shoulders slump slightly. "Bloody Americans and their insistence on coffee." Still, he dumped a few sugar cubes into it, using his index finger to stir the lukewarm liquid before he finally lifted it to his lips and took a long sip. It wasn't good by any means, and yet it would do. Clearly he needed to teach the girl to make tea. Eyeing the Tylenol, the man set his drink aside and fumbled with the bottle. He tried merely taking the cap off, his head tilting to the side as he struggled with the bottle. It took several minutes for the Victorian Hunter to figure out the child-lock device and get the bottle open, spilling several of the white pills onto the duvet. He let out an annoyed noise as he scooped them up - the man clearly above reading directions - and washed down no less than five of the pills with the coffee.

"Blimey, do you have to be so bloody difficult?" He muttered to the bottle before he finally stood and abandoned his coffee on the nightstand. Wandering out of the bedroom, he poked his head into the main living room, only finding himself disappointed when the blonde wasn't there either. "Vhalla?" He called out, a frown on his features as he continued forward and towards those steps. He could hear noise down below, and immediately the man found himself frowning at the metal staircase. His body ached, and truly he wasn't sure if he got down those stairs if he would make it back up. Still, he found himself wandering barefoot down to the bottom floor. Letting himself into the training room, his eyes scanned the space. Finally settling on the witch on her climbing wall, he wandered across the room to watch her as she climbed.

He hardly had time to react as the woman slipped. In his normal frame, he would have been able to catch the woman as she came tumbling down to the mat. But in his weak and battered form, all he could do was let out an audible gasp as she collided with the ground. "Vhalla," He moved as quickly as he could - which was not quickly at all - over to the girl, his form kneeling beside her as he helped her to a sitting position. Quickly, his fingers roamed over her form to make sure she was, in fact, all in one piece before he finally sat down beside her. "I'm not quite sure what you're doing," He commented in his still sleepy state, his British accent entirely prominent as he spoke. "But I'm sure that falling was not it."

The Englishman reached up then to run a hand through his hair, further making his brown locks stick up in every direction. Yawning, he leaned his head on her shoulder. "I'm positively knackered, luv," He murmured into her shoulder before slowly, those brown eyes of his peeked up at her. "I was gutted to see you weren't there when I woke up. I missed you." He grinned up at her - though his eyes still remained entirely sleepy and his smile was lopsided.

But darling -- it's only human nature.