“Evander?” I let it hover over a second glass.
He eyes the clock, looking more annoyed than the last time I asked. Then twice as furious again when his ointment goes flying across the floor, Cas squirming away from him for the tenth time.
“Did you want gangrene?” Evander finally snaps.
“The fuck do you know about gangrene?” Cas throws back.
Evander drags all five fingers down his face, eyes sealed tight as if he could wish Cas away. “Did you actually just ask me that?”
“A real doctor would never have any part in this—”
“Shut your mouth, Caspian.”
He doesn’t. He leaves it hanging open, but he still follows my sharp command, more or less, by not saying anything else.
“Show some respect. You give Evander one more second of trouble, you’ll have me to answer to in training tomorrow.”
His curled lip is begging for a smack.
Thankfully, for both of us, he soon drops his head and lets a childish huff speak everything he needs to learn to not say.
It’s met with Evander’s louder sigh, the click of the lid off the ointment, then Cas’s hiss as Evander applies the stinking liquid to his cut knee.
Evander does it a hell of a lot more gently than I would have. Quickly too, then announces, “You’re done.”
It’s hard to tell who’s more relieved, Cas sloughing off the bench like hot butter left in the sun, Evander’s every movement like he’s stabbing someone.
There’s a three-second crystallization of time where the two hold their opposing stances, then the door slams behind Cas.
“And don’t slam the door!” I shout after him.
Little shit.
“Pour it.” Evander slides his glass toward the bottle, then glares at the door. “All beauty, no brains, that one.”
“He seems alright.” A warm tickle from the first shot finally eases my arm a little as I fill Evander’s glass to the brim. “Works hard, doesn’t talk back. Except when he’s around you.”
“He’s been a thorn in my side from the second he arrived.” He lifts the drink to his lips, then rips it away again, spilling a few drops across the stainless-steel bench. “Do you know, his first morning here, he was in and out every five minutes demanding to see Robin? Kept trying to give me advice on how to deal with his possible concussion.” The drink goesback, almost makes it into his mouth this time, then spills again. “Can you imagine the arrogance of a man who, his first day in the dungeon, is telling the only doctor he has access to how to do his job?”
My stomach’s tightened with his comments, so I top my own drink up. “Close with Robin, is he?”
“Oh yes. Bunking together. Eating together. Thick as thieves, by the looks of it.”
The drink goes down fast, and finally Evander gets to taking a sip of his.
Cas, with his stupid handsome grin and green eyes. Wild hair and laugh lines in all the right places. I can’t help but ask, “You think he’s good-looking?”
Evander’s left eyebrow rises sharply. “Would you have picked him if he wasn’t?”
“No, but… compared to the other men. They’re all…” I’m unscrewing the lid again before I even realize it. “Do you think he stands out? Amongst them?”
Evander settles cool eyes on the door. “I’d be all over him like a swarm of butcher ants on a pot of honey.” His glass tips up, and he swallows hard against the foul taste. “If he wasn’t such a wanker.”
I laugh, but he hasn’t helped. I’m not sure Robin’s convinced he’s a wanker. And I’m not sure I am either. But apparently they’re sharing a room, and that’s a hundred possible complications I don’t need right now.
The alcohol’s finally doing its thing, so that must be why, over the top of my unwelcome visions of Cas and Robin in their room together, I blurt out, “Do you think he’s better looking than—”
“Robin!” Evander shouts at the same time. Then, with a fast glance at me, “Sorry, what were you saying?”
