"God, yes," Ganymede sighed, shoving a hand over his hair as he relaxed the moment the door was shut. "Though I'll tell you for nothing, I have better booze at my place. For next time."

He sat down heavily on the end corner of the bed, face twitching when the motion pulled at his stitches uncomfortably, making him rub his hand over the bullet track. It sucked, and it would hurt, but he could feel the skin and muscle slowly beginning to knit back together. "But before that...come here for a minute. Please?"