Marx
The slender male didn't hear the girl's words, but he did feel her hand on his head. His body froze, and his eyes flicked open. The amber disks were glazed with pain, but all the same they fixed on the blonde, trying to discern what exactly she was doing. A little part of his mind was flipping out, warning bells blaring crazily. Weakness, she is right there and you are totally helpless. Do something you idiot! The little bit of grey matter screeched. But he didn't move away. She was speaking again, and He was trying to listen.
Don't speak of it? Speak of what? Seb wondered for a moment. Then he discovered what it was. At first he thought he was imagining the tug he felt on the delicate skin of his forehead, but no. His skin was actually knitting itself back together. The male's eyes almost bugged out. it didn't hurt, per say, but he was beginning to really wonder if he was stoned. Well, he had been stoned, with just...one stone, but not that kind of stoned. High, stoned. The pain in his brain began to fade away as the skin continued it's slow merge back to it's original location, and Marx let out a soft sigh of relief. Well, relief mixed with paranoia. He owed Monsowa now, she was helping him. He hated owning people things, but this couldn't really be helped.
He'd just not think about it, eh?
When she pulled her hand away, Seb was restored enough in his humors to make a somewhat retort. "It's because of my big heart." He gave a sort of shaky grin. He was still much too pale, and his face was smeared with blood, but he was feeling much better. His knees still wanted to give out though. He needed something to eat.
Carefully, Seb began to move, stretching himself first. Then, on a sudden urge he leaned over and brushed his lips against Lyndsey's cheek. "Thanks, Monsowa." He said. With that he swaggered off, back to the house as gracefully as he possibly could.
He just wanted to elicit a reaction, he told himself decisively. He wasn't going soft or anything. Emotions were for fools, and he sure as hell didn't feel anything but detached amusement towards the blonde. Now was food time though, best not to think of such things. He'd keep quiet. Nothing every happened. Nothing at all.
The tall male nodded at Dashkov as he passed the sitting room, uncaring as to whether the other noticed his polite gesture or not. Although, it would be rather difficult to miss him, with his blood-smeared face and pale countenance. Upon entering the kitchen, Seb attacked the remaining food, procuring bacon, eggs, toast, and upending a milk carton over his face to retrieve the last pint from it. Then he settled down on the floor next to the table, he preferred floors to chairs, to eat, his back to the door again because he was so involved in masticating his food. He was hungrier than he's though he was.
Next he'd need to wash the blood off his face, but for right now he was content to eat.