The last thing he wanted was to be their enemy. He was just trying to figure out his own life.
Truthfully.
And that was messy enough.
When the man headed out, Michael considered what he was going to do next.
So, he jogged up the stairs to check on Graham.
Babysitting involved actually seeing if the person was okay.
When he peeked in the room, the man was still in bed, and he hadn’t moved from the fetal position.
Yeah, that Scotch was going to rule his body for the rest of the night.
Bet.
On.
It.
He knew his choice of drink, and it was always a really good Scotch. He also knew how bad the hangover could be too.
With the man safely in bed, still breathing, and not asphyxiating on vomit, he was clear to snoop around.
For what?
Well, now, that book had him curious.
So, he headed down the hallway, and toward the library. The castle was chilly, and he knew he’d have to light a fire to get the chill out for them.
Summer was here, but Scotland was having a chilly summer.
Or it was the ghosts.
That was a possibility.
He’d felt the chill around him when he’d been hanging onto Graham for dear life.
Granted, at this point, he wasn’t sure what to believe. All he knew was that he came here to heal, and it appeared that he wasn’t going to be only focused on himself.
This place was trying to compete when it came to the messiest existence ever.
Maybe someone did have it worse. Still, he wasn’t fond of the similarities with his world and Duncan’s.
Not.
Even.
Close.
There were wounds here that were open and festering from time and the past.
Honestly, he didn’t mind figuring it out if he could help end the craziness.
Yes, he told Finn he didn’t solve things, but he didn’t mind looking into it.
Watching the Blackhawks solve shit was always interesting to see.
