Find Me (Character Chat #4)

Tessa picked up another breakable object and hurtled that at another wall.
Someone knocked on the door, and Tess put down the third thing she was going to throw and rushed towards it. She immediately pulled the person into a tight hug. The person said something, then gently guided her back into the house. The person was a very muscular, broad shouldered, stocky male with mud brown hair and light brown eyes, about 6 foot 2. The person soothed a frantic Tessa while she explained what she thought happened.

The male knelt next to Runner, examining the wounds. "Tessie, I'll need you to hold him down." His voice was deep and rumbled as he spoke. He flicked his eyes over to Lia. "Miss, I'm going to have you pull out the knife when I say so."
Tessa took up her position, bracing herself against Runner in wait for his thrashing.

"Pull." He had supplies in his hands, ready to stitch the wound closed.

Tessa held him down as best as she could. The male was right there, pressing the wound closed as he stitched it shut. When he was done, he pressed gauze over it to control the bleeding while he worked on the others.

Tessa and the male worked as if a team, her holding wounds closed and cleaning up the blood while he stitched them closed. They were soon done, and Tess collapsed on the floor, holding Runner's hand while the male cleaned up their mess, walking through the house as if he's been there before.

Tessa looked up at Lia. "Thank you," she said, then glanced at Runner. "He'll likely want to thank you later. Where do you live?"

Tessa nodded and took the paper. "Thank you," she said again.

((Should we skip to the morning?))

Tessa was passed out on the floor, head resting on the bloodstained couch next to Runner. The male was shirtless and eating cereal in the kitchen, reading a newspaper.

Tessa snapped her head up, already fussing. "Are you okay? Are you bleeding? How are your stitches?"

Tessa sighed and rested her head against his arm. "You're such an idiot," she mumbled.

"Just a friend, huh?" The male snickered from the kitchen, still eating his cereal. Tessa didn't deign to acknowledge him.

"You went and got yourself stabbed. Who the hell does that?" She was still mumbling, her nerves shot.

"I know…" she whispered. "It's my fault."

"I have a reputation in the worst district of the city–the Thieves Den, as it's called. I did some gambling a little while ago, and let's just say I gambled against a bunch of sore losers. I wouldn't put it past them to try and get back at me."

"To get back what they lost? All they would need to do is steal it–no mention of gambling needed. Either that, or they're hired thugs. It's a no-questions-asked sort of thing."