Nurse Cheeky tends to Faz.
The dude's a goofball, but I have to give credit to Mike where it's due -- I can't think of anyone who'd be willing to clean Faz's wounds without making a fuss after just having met him. Hell, even Bonnie has a hard time with it, often citing that "such delicate stuff" requires a "gal's touch". I don't blame him -- we've both known Faz for a long time, but he can still be a little overwhelming.
It also doesn't help that Bonnie and Faz both kind of clash personality-wise. Bon's so cheerful that sometimes it comes off as obnoxious, and Faz hasn't got much patience for shenanigans anymore. That's not to say he's a scary guy or anything. He's actually kind of a softy once you get to know him, but every now and again he just kind of... well, he's more easily provoked than he used to be.
Then again, after what happened the other night, I guess you could say that about all of us.
That reminds me. I cut a slice of the remaining cake Mike brought over (memo to self, kidnap him and make him my personal baking slave) before putting it on a paper plate next to Faz's TV dinner. His eyes light up as I set the plate on his tray before moving in to change his bandages.
"Nice treat," he whispers, barely audible. "Did Bonnie stop by a bakery?"
"Nope," I reply vaguely, gently pulling the wrappings loose from his fur. The drainage is particularly strong today, but I'm hardly fazed by it at this point. Nothing I haven't seen before.
"Chichi, then?" he rasps, furrowing his brow.
"Sort of. Here comes the antiseptic. You ready?"
Faz nods, his eyes closed in anticipation of the stinging sensation. He does a good job of not flinching as I clean his wounds, dabbing gingerly at the mess so that I don't make it any worse than it already is. His two most recent surgical scars look like they're healing well enough, which is good -- as close as they are to his heart, the last thing he needs is another infection.
After applying fresh gauze and wrappings I give his tummy a gentle brush with my feathers, and to my delight I notice the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly as he exhales air from his nose -- yep, still ticklish.
"You know I can't stand it when you do that," he chuckles good-naturedly through his speaker.
A memory flickers through my head; lunch breaks spent with Faz and Bonnie on the loading dock at work way back when, playing flag football out in the parking lot with some of the other employees. Faz was so athletic, but he'd always buckle whenever my feathers would brush against his side while trying to swipe his flag.
"Gotta get you to smile somehow, ya big lug." Smirking, I toss the used bandages in the trash before rinsing my wings off in the sink. "How about a movie while we wait for Bonnie to get home?"
Faz nods agreeably, ignoring his microwave meatloaf and going straight for the cake first.
"Sure. You pick."
I make my way over to the bookcase where the DVDs are back on the shelf, and I can't help but laugh as I see Mike started re-sorting them while he was here earlier. Grabbing the first shrink-wrapped video I see, I tear the plastic off with my beak before shoving the disc into the player.
"Really good cake," he says, licking the frosting off the fork with his dry tongue. "Send my regards to Chichi."
"So, yeah, about that. It was actually Mike who made it, albeit under her tutelage," I reply. He pauses mid-bite, eyebrows raised. "He came by earlier to apologize."
Setting the plate down on the tray, he looks at his half-eaten slice of cake with visibly mixed emotions.
"Hey, no. You eat, now. You don't have to defend my honor, Faz," I insist, wings on my hips. "Believe me, from how moony-eyed Mike was, he's already kicked his own ass enough. Besides, if he hasn't, you know Fred'll take care of things."
"He's still staying with them?" Faz whispers as the title credits begin playing. I mute the speaker system before turning back to him, wincing at a shooting pain in my side.
"Bonnie and I both offered for him to stay with us, but I think he's too embarrassed. And if I'm being honest, it's for the best. The guy probably needs to be around a more lively atmosphere anyway."
Faz snorts, pushing his plate away from himself. I narrow my eyes at him, wing on one hip.
"Faz..."
"He was out of line," Faz snaps, "badly out of line."
"Sure he was. But we weren't?" I softly counter. "He did leave without being asked, and he came back this morning and apologized. Besides, he baked us this really nice cake. You can't hate anyone who brings cake, it's like -- it's like some kind of a law. At least it should be."
Faz ponders my words for a little while before begrudgingly picking his plate back up.
"Maybe you're right," he mumbles between a mouthful of meatloaf. "If he was mature enough to come up here and apologize, then I suppose I can let it go."
"That's the spirit," I say as he resumes eating.
Faz shoots me a knowing look. "Might give him a hard time about it anyway, though," he quietly adds.
Snickering, I softly nudge his bicep before turning the volume back up. "Oh, absolutely. He still needs his chops busted at every available turn, since he is the new guy and all."
"Have to keep him humble," he agrees with a strained grin.