[It's not quite 'kicking the door of his office down' but Blitz will get to see the sudden flash of blue-purple as the portal opens in his room about a split second before Stolas's voice yells at him, both through the communicator and from right behind him.]
[He jumps like he's expecting to get in trouble again, then winces at the jolt it sends through his arm.]
Stolas! Fancy seeing you here...
[Blitzø is curled on his couch but sits up properly as Stolas' appearance. One arm is wrapped in a haphazard sling and he looks bruised but otherwise fine.]
I can teleport anywhere if I know where I am going, Blitzy. [He steps through the portal and immediately has to duck his head to avoid crashing it on the ceiling; the result is he's bent over about two third down, and still stalking to the couch to crouch in front of it and grab Blitz's arm - with incredible gentleness, despite his incredibly impatient tone.] When you go running off being kidnapped by demon-obsessed kooks in the human realm it's a little tricky to create a spell so precise, but when you are the only fucking imp on this ship it is very easy to break into your room.
[Oh. Stolas is crouching in front of him and Blitzø is suddenly, painfully aware that the goetian prince is crammed into his tiny, shitty apartment and crouching down on a floor that hasn't been cleaned in who knew how fucking long, probably still with some drying smears of blood on it. There's nowhere to really go from his couch though, and Blitzø looks vaguely panicked at Stolas' concern.]
Seriously, Stolas, it's fine! I mean, who hasn't set a broken bone or seven before? I mean, I could probably ask Florian for some healing magic shit but then he'd look pissy about the fact I broke it in the first place which is... uh... [What Stolas was doing too. Like he cared. Sure there'd been some suggestions that he might from Stolas and others but... it's different seeing it here, without their deal or the book. It's harder to convince himself that it's just part of Stolas' weird sex thing.]
[Stolas actually scowls, and there's a pissy chittering noise in the depths of his throat. He smooths his hair-feathers back with both hands, but he still looks deeply annoyed, and his voice is patience stretched thin.]
Blitz, while I very much appreciate your confidence in my powers, I must insist we get your eyes checked, because it appears you may have mistaken me for fucking Belphegor!
[That's a squawk, pitchy and furious.
And he's not waiting on Blitzø to make up more excuses, either - he simply scoops Blitzø into his arms, and when he rises to his full height they've already left his room, instead standing in the second floor hallway with the waypoint behind them. Though he does have to duck his head again to enter the infirmary.]
If you're so insistent on being treated by Florian then I will bring him here instead!
[In a moment he's in Stolas' arms and Blitzø wraps his good arm around the goetian's shoulders instinctively before he even has a chance to realise that they're now at the stupid waypoint near the infirmary and Stolas is suggesting--]
No! I mean, no, I'm not fucking insisting on that! Besides, you don't even really know Florian... right?
And we're here anyway, so lets just fucking get someone here to do it.
If it matters so much that Florian would be upset about your broken arm, then I believe he would be the perfect candidate.
[And maybe that bit of pettiness is hiding some much larger pain, that he's only good to Blitz if he can heal him (and he can't even fucking do that), but Satan forbid Florian, someone who had the actual capacity to do so, is being steadfastly and deliberately ignored.
He pulls out his communicator, and with four eyes it only takes a few seconds of searching to find Florian's last post and snag his contact details to give him a call right in front of Blitz. Because fuck you buddy.]
Florian, this is Stolas. I'd like to request your presence in the infirmary, if that's quite alright. Because a certain little imp decided to neglect to inform anyone that he broke his fucking arm [the curse word is thrown bodily back at Blitz, with bright glints of his pupils visible] and refuses to see reason or treatment.
Christ on a stick, Stolas-! [Blitzø snarls, but it's far too late and he seethes as Stolas calls up Florian, his anger covering the sudden fear seizing his chest. He'd been trying to avoid any of this, like maybe he could just pretend like Stolas would never meet Florian and Johann and they'd never have reason to discuss him and he'd never have to think about difficult things like how he feels about any of them. He could just blissfully continue with pretending shit was fine, and that would be that.
Instead it looks like this shit might be happening now and he's suddenly wishing he'd just jumped off the fucking side of the boat, or at the very least just gone and made Hunter fix up his arm.]
I was trying to see if you could help me with it! Not get you to be a fucking bitch about it!!
[ Florian's voice is soft, genuinely soft and not just the soft before the storm. He's concerned. ]
Two things: the first is whether there is a reason you'd like your arm to remain broken. If you have one, I will of course understand.
The other is whether you would like myself or Johann to 'need' you for something such that you might 'need' to slip away. We would also be willing to retrieve you, of course.
[At the very least, Stolas isn't making a point to hover. When Blitzø actually picks up the call he walks away, arms folded tightly across his chest as he goes to wait in the doorway of the infirmary instead.]
[Well shit. He could have dealt with anything except for actual understanding and genuine concern. In the face of that, Blitzø groans and closes his eyes.]
No, I'm fine. It's fine. I just... I knew you and Johann would be pissed and so I asked Stolas if he could fix me up with his magic instead. Now he's pissed instead.
I do actually want my arm fixed, faster than waiting for it to heal normally anyway.
If you mean 'upset at you', I would not be. A pillow-throw's annoyance that you didn't make the matter simple and just come to me, but I think you can weather that. Perhaps a bundled stocking on top for trying to keep secrets from me.
Can he fix your arm? Or shall I make my way there?
[The fuck is this guilt bullshit, he hates how Florian being reasonable is somehow so much worse than the imagined lectures had been and Blitzø glances over at Stolas too. There's guilt there as well, although he has no idea what to do about it.]
No, Stolas said he can't do that kind of magic. He'd probably be able to learn it though, he's all powerful and shit back in Hell.
I'll head to the infirmary, then. We can talk more later. Feel free to pass this back to Stolas; he can remain there if you like or depart, I've no preference.
Yeah, fine. [Blitzø drags his good hand down his face and offers the communicator back to Stolas, all the while trying to ignore the churning feeling in his gut at all of this.
He knew it was stupid now but he'd vaguely hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with Stolas meeting with Florian and Johann, that he could just ignore it and it would... somehow work itself out. The fact that was never going to be the case is abundantly clear now.]
[His attention turns back to Blitz when he hears the call end, but rather than move back towards him, his communicator gets the light blue glow of his magic around it, and it gets tugged politely out of Blitz's hand to float back into Stolas's.]
No thank you, Blitz. [His voice is quiet and polite again, but there's an underlying steel that Blitz hasn't actually been on the receiving end of much before.] I'm sure Florian will have you quite in hand. Do get better soon.
[And he tucks his communicator into his vest pocket as he ducks his head to leave the infirmary.]
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Blitzy, what happened? Are you alright?
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I'll get him back for it later.
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Someone broke your fucking arm?!
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Stolas! Fancy seeing you here...
[Blitzø is curled on his couch but sits up properly as Stolas' appearance. One arm is wrapped in a haphazard sling and he looks bruised but otherwise fine.]
Wait, you can teleport? Like... anywhere?
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[He lets go and glares at Blitz.]
We are going to the infirmary, this instant.
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[Oh. Stolas is crouching in front of him and Blitzø is suddenly, painfully aware that the goetian prince is crammed into his tiny, shitty apartment and crouching down on a floor that hasn't been cleaned in who knew how fucking long, probably still with some drying smears of blood on it. There's nowhere to really go from his couch though, and Blitzø looks vaguely panicked at Stolas' concern.]
Seriously, Stolas, it's fine! I mean, who hasn't set a broken bone or seven before? I mean, I could probably ask Florian for some healing magic shit but then he'd look pissy about the fact I broke it in the first place which is... uh... [What Stolas was doing too. Like he cared. Sure there'd been some suggestions that he might from Stolas and others but... it's different seeing it here, without their deal or the book. It's harder to convince himself that it's just part of Stolas' weird sex thing.]
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Blitz, while I very much appreciate your confidence in my powers, I must insist we get your eyes checked, because it appears you may have mistaken me for fucking Belphegor!
[That's a squawk, pitchy and furious.
And he's not waiting on Blitzø to make up more excuses, either - he simply scoops Blitzø into his arms, and when he rises to his full height they've already left his room, instead standing in the second floor hallway with the waypoint behind them. Though he does have to duck his head again to enter the infirmary.]
If you're so insistent on being treated by Florian then I will bring him here instead!
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No! I mean, no, I'm not fucking insisting on that! Besides, you don't even really know Florian... right?
And we're here anyway, so lets just fucking get someone here to do it.
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[And maybe that bit of pettiness is hiding some much larger pain, that he's only good to Blitz if he can heal him (and he can't even fucking do that), but Satan forbid Florian, someone who had the actual capacity to do so, is being steadfastly and deliberately ignored.
He pulls out his communicator, and with four eyes it only takes a few seconds of searching to find Florian's last post and snag his contact details to give him a call right in front of Blitz. Because fuck you buddy.]
Florian, this is Stolas. I'd like to request your presence in the infirmary, if that's quite alright. Because a certain little imp decided to neglect to inform anyone that he broke his fucking arm [the curse word is thrown bodily back at Blitz, with bright glints of his pupils visible] and refuses to see reason or treatment.
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Instead it looks like this shit might be happening now and he's suddenly wishing he'd just jumped off the fucking side of the boat, or at the very least just gone and made Hunter fix up his arm.]
I was trying to see if you could help me with it! Not get you to be a fucking bitch about it!!
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If you want a fucking bitch, I will give you a fucking bitch.
[His head cranes back to his communicator.]
He's all yours.
[And he'll toss his communicator into Blitzø's lap with a pointed look. Answer the call, bitch.]
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Look, Florian, it's fine! Stolas is just overreacting...
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Two things: the first is whether there is a reason you'd like your arm to remain broken. If you have one, I will of course understand.
The other is whether you would like myself or Johann to 'need' you for something such that you might 'need' to slip away. We would also be willing to retrieve you, of course.
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No, I'm fine. It's fine. I just... I knew you and Johann would be pissed and so I asked Stolas if he could fix me up with his magic instead. Now he's pissed instead.
I do actually want my arm fixed, faster than waiting for it to heal normally anyway.
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Can he fix your arm? Or shall I make my way there?
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No, Stolas said he can't do that kind of magic. He'd probably be able to learn it though, he's all powerful and shit back in Hell.
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He knew it was stupid now but he'd vaguely hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with Stolas meeting with Florian and Johann, that he could just ignore it and it would... somehow work itself out. The fact that was never going to be the case is abundantly clear now.]
Stolas, are you, I mean, do you wanna... stay?
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No thank you, Blitz. [His voice is quiet and polite again, but there's an underlying steel that Blitz hasn't actually been on the receiving end of much before.] I'm sure Florian will have you quite in hand. Do get better soon.
[And he tucks his communicator into his vest pocket as he ducks his head to leave the infirmary.]
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Now what am I to be looking at...