a kick down in my soul / joining

[devland]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 60%; min-height: 8px; font-family: arial; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 25px"]Once again, he found his attention stolen. He hated how difficult it was to concentrate on something. Was it because he was tired? Was it the pain from his shoulder? Hell, he thought, maybe it was because he had been more or less ran over by Paola. Regardless, he found his eyes resting on Georgia.

Her question forced a smirk on to his features. Oh, she had jokes! He could admire that. He opened his mouth to answer, but Paola beat him to the punch. Though her answer was a little different than what his might have been, he chuckled anyway. As Paola bat at his ear, a curious look flashed across his face for a split-second. Even though the pair were a tangled mess, neither making the executive decision to untangle themselves, he wondered how she could be so... relaxed. Comfortable. Devland, for as outwardly calm and open as he was, was inwardly a bundle of confusion and nerves. Though he was much better at hiding things than Eulia had been when they approached.

Approaching steps. Another one? Devland supposed that made sense - he had heard that this was a large group. It seemed the new guy had heard Georgia's, er, fun question, and unlike Paola, dove head-first into the idea. Again, Devland found himself painted with a smirk. "Stuck with me? You hardly know me," he replied, more question-like than as a statement. It seemed Paola wasn't the only one who was extremely open to new people.

It was Paola's voice that reached him next. When she inquired about a nickname, he found himself hesitating. He was not... fond of nicknames to say the least. He preferred his real name, but it seemed Paola was steamrolling on anyway. In that moment, he decided not to correct her. Maybe her calling him 'Dev' wouldn't be completely terrible. The way the other pulled at him dragged him from his thoughts. "Sure, Dev's fine," he half-lied, continuing, "and -" He paused. 'Buddy.' The string of words that accompanied that caught in his ears. He smiled as the realization all but smacked him on the forehead. "Yeah, sure, I'd like that."

Now, the other male was speaking again, tossing Devland a wink while he was at it. Had the day not transpired in the way that it had, Devland might have found his face flushed at the obvious flirt, but he was a little too tired for that now. "Calem." He nodded, committing the name to memory. It seemed Calem was fond of nicknames too... He didn't necessarily mind it from Calem either. "Devland, Dev, Taji. Whatever," he answered, nodding again to confirm that nickname was - technically - him. "Hm, it's not so much as what I'd like to call you, but when. Does whatever also transfer to whenever?" He grinned at the other.

Georgia introduced herself and remarked about his wound. The latter caused his flirtatious grin to drip into something much more sheepish. "Well, I think 'scar' technically means it's healed, right?" Had he not run away from home, he was sure it would be a scar by now. However, his inexperience with healing ensured that didn't happen. Instead of focusing on his mistakes, he worked on remembering Georgia's name. "Though I guess you're right, Georgia. It probably will look pretty cool once it's actually healed. Too bad though," he sighed, a bit dramatically, "I really liked how my shoulder looked before the scar."

As Paola moved in close, Devland found himself instinctively pulling back. All tangled up like they were, he found that virtually impossible. Instead, he helplessly watched as Paola inspected him. From this close, it was easy to see she was genuinely concerned. He felt something catch in his chest, but he pushed that strange feeling away, focusing on her words instead. "I'm fine, Paola," he assured. He angled his head just a bit to try and obstruct everyone's view of his wound. "You get no credit for this one. It was a simple disagreement from a while ago, nothing major." Another lie. "Thing's not healing properly though, and it gives me fits all the time." He chose not to mention he didn't understand herbs, but if anyone looked closely at the poultice he had made, they could guess just as much.

Devland had been too distracted to notice Michael. Half-lidded eyes shifted to take in the last arrival. Everyone who had shown up so far had been about his age, but Michael was older. The poor guy looked a little frustrated, and Devland almost laughed at that. He didn't doubt it was difficult to keep up with this wild bunch. "Thanks for having me, Michael," he answered, dipping his head as much as he could while Paola was still wrapped around him. So, Michael was a Reaver? Devland wondered what that job entailed, but from context clues, he gathered it was pretty important. "And thank you for the offer, I'll be sure to remember that."

Michael's next words caused him to shrink back minutely. Devland was fully aware of how bad his injury was, but he wasn't totally keen on others acknowledging that fact. He supposed he hadn't been successful in hiding his pain though. And, well, how the hell could he hide the terrible-looking wound anyway? He resigned himself to accepting Michael's words as truth. "You're... right," he murmured. The thought of having a complete stranger heal him was uncomfortable, but he knew better than to turn it down. "I wouldn't mind an escort to see Roan. I'd probably end up lost otherwise." That thought alone shook him more than the mystery healer.