SplatDance: Spyke's New Groove

:Chapter 2:

Spyke stared at his hand, ignoring both the dampness of his face and the sharp bursts of pain it gave him as he moved it around to view it’s injured state. It had, of course, tiny shards of glass puncturing the bits of his hand that only grazed the falling shards of the glass door he punched his way through; followed by a couple of scrapes and cuts around his knuckles, all of which had already begun to scab over.

He sighed at the scrapes and gashes caused by his impulsive act, knowing that he could of picked the exterior lock with his screwdriver he seemed to always carry with him.

“Great job Spyke.” He muttered to himself sarcastically. “Way ‘ta do yourself under this time. How the bloody hell am I going to do anything with this mangled mess?” He slowly turned his hand to check if his palm injured as well.

The palm of his mangled hand was slightly scraped, a dark “blood-like” substance was smeared across his palm. But fortunately, it wasn't as badly scaved as the rest of his hand. He sighed once more, slowly resting his injured hand on his lap once more, his eyes trailed up to the ceiling of the room; listening to the quiet arguing going on down the main corridor of the apartment.

Speaking of which, Spyke never knew why Annie brought him up to her apartment to take care of him in the first place. Then again, it could be understandable for a couple of reasons, so he didn't bother to ask.

A couple of minutes passed before he heard footsteps scurrying back through the carpeted hallway. Spyke sat up as he saw Annie rush back towards him, lugging a first aide kit almost half her size. “I-I’m sorry!” She said, clearing off half of the coffee table in front of the sofa that Spyke sat on. “Moe was being a bit stubborn about helping me find where I put the kit.” She rolled her eyes as she laid down the case on the cleared area of the coffee table, unlatching the case before hopping onto the couch. “Don't worry, he’s in his bowl right now.”

Spyke forced a small grin as he watch her shift through the various bandages and wound cleansing supplies she had tucked in the plastic case. “Hahah…” Spyke chuckled. “I guess it’s good that ya’ left ‘em in a different room as well 'en rite? I would of hurt dat lil’ punk if he kept yappin’ his mouth about uploadin’ 'at video.” As he continued talking, he grew a bit aggravated once more. “‘At Lil’ runt…” he scoffed. “I oughtta make em inta’ small platter of sushi fer doin dis.”

Annie chuckled under her breath. “You’re not the first to say that.” She pulled out a pair of needle nose tweezers and turned to him.

Spyke looked up at her, his eyes slightly widening. “Oh! Sorry 'ere love! I guess I wos ramblin’ 'ere. I know he’s yet partner n’ all but he’s really-”

“Yeah... I know.” Annie reassured. “He’s not the greatest of personalities here. In fact a lot of customers that come here get driven away by him.” She held out her empty hand, while wearing down the tweezers she held in her hands a bit.

Without another word needing to be said Spyke extended his injured hand out, resting it on the significantly smaller one; And in almost no time at all, Annie began to examine the hand once more, her eyes almost as terror filled as they were when she first noticed it’s condition. A short while later she began to graze his hand with the slender nosed tweezers, plucking out any bit of glass she could find and placing them on a small coaster nearby.

Spyke winced in pain when the needle headed tweezers grazed pass an open wound on his hand, making Annie abruptly stop what she was doing; immediately dropping the tweezers on the table next to her. “O-oh!” She gasped, watching a thick liquid drip from his hand. “I-I’m so sorry!”