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“Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?” Hugh had expected Jethro to get some bruises and cuts while fighting but this was too much. The kid looked like Hugh had after being beaten by the prison Guards—one or two punches away from permanent damage or death.
“I told you. I’m fine.” Jethro glared at him out of his one good eye as he lounged on the couch.
“You don’t look fine,” said Trinity. “You really should see Dr. Kalper.”
“It’s nothing. You should’ve seen me last week.”
“This happened a week ago, and you still look like this?” It was even worse than he’d thought.
“Yeah, but it’s all superficial.” Jethro touched his cheek and winced. “No reason to see a doctor.”
He walked to the bar and poured a liberal amount of whiskey in a glass before handing it to his brother.
