Page 101 of The Laughing Game

“You don’t say?” I replied dryly.

“I know you had something else in mind for tonight.”

“Vihaal, don’t worry about it,” I said.

There was a nurse at Reception who took one look at Vihaal, then glanced at me.

“Nose injury?”

“Nosebleed,” Vihaal said as I shook my head. “It won’t stop.”

“Okay. I’m going to need you to fill out this form, please.”

“Can we get a fresh towel or something, please?” I asked. “This one’s going to start dripping soon.”

She acknowledged the bloodied towel in Vihaal’s hand with professional detachment. “I’ll have somebody bring one. Please take a seat and fill out the form.”

I took the clipboard and pen from her and found two empty seats in the corner, where we could still be seen.

“Can you do it and I’ll dictate?” Vihaal asked.

“Of course.”

He spelled his last name for me, then helped me fill in the rest of the form. By the time we’d finished, Gideon had found us.

“They didn’t give him a fresh towel?”

“I asked for one. She said they would.”

Gideon rolled his eyes and held his hand out for the clipboard. “Here, I’ll take that to Reception.”

I handed it to him, with the pen.

When he returned, he was carrying a clean towel.

“Got one. Had to promise to give her my firstborn child, but…that shouldn’t be an issue.” He winked and passed it to me, then held his hand out for the bloodied one.

When Vihaal pulled the soaked towel away from his face, blood was still trickling out of his nose. I passed him the clean one.

“Thank you.”

“I think it might be slowing down,” I said.

“Then we can leave?” Vihaal asked, his eyes hopeful.

It was strange seeing him so pliant and vulnerable, and amusing to watch him follow Gideon’s directions, in a complete turn-around from the usual circumstances.

“No way. You need to be seen,” Gideon stated. “I’m not getting you all the way home and then having to come back.”

Gideon held the bloody towel gingerly between his fingers and grimaced, then turned to me.

“Do you think Sebastian wants this back?”

I shook my head. “Doubt it.”

I pointed in the direction of a biohazard waste receptacle.

“Ah. Yeah, that’s a better idea,” he said, heading over.

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