My head jerked up, and I stared at Torin over the bar's countertop. Not f*****g again! If this s**t kept up, he was going to need to be wrapped in bubble wrap for his own damn protection. Lord help the man!
With a shake of my head, I ran around the counter, heading towards Torin; at least he was walking this time, which was a plus.
As I neared, he looked in my direction. Then, holding up his hand, he assured me, "I'm alright, Marl."
"You don't look alright!" I argued. "There is blood—"
Before I could finish, Torin shook his head. "It's not mine, Marlowe."
I gaped at him. "Then who the hell's is it?" I exclaimed..
Torin just shrugged, then asked, "Does it matter? It's not mine, that's all you need to know."
~TORIN~
I'd hoped to make it to my room and change clothes before Marlowe
