Snippet #1305365

"No," Al said, extending his arm down to help his friend up. "You were just freaking out because of that potion thing. Drake had to knock you out so you wouldn't end up hurting yourself. Is your head okay? I can try to heal it if you want me to."

He accepted Al's hand, rising to his feet. He gave his friend a small smile, shaking his head at his offer.

"Sorry about that," Drake mumbled, glancing off as he placed a hand on the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard." He hoped he hadn't caused any serious damage--but then again, he seemed fine...still, it was always best to make sure. Blunt trauma wasn't something to be brushed off lightly.

"It's fine Drake, really. The last thing the two of you needed was for me t-t-to.. Well." He cleared his throat, not wanting to consider how things could have gone if he hadn't been taken out in time. "Besides, I've had w-worse headaches than this. Don't worry about it."

-- -- -- -- -- --

The musicbox continued its ticking, sounding as innocent as an inanimate object could. In fact, if one listened closely, the ticking sounded more like that of an old clock - as if something was constantly turning on the inside, scratching a surface on its way around.

Silence.
scratch
Silence.
scratch