Blood and Whiskey

[James MacFusty]

@Fionnuala Dairine

James MacFusty’s face was not one seen too frequently around Lews, at least not since the death of Rabbie. He’d maybe stayed within the castle once in the previous month, instead opting to sleep on the island with the toddlings. Most would remember it as much the same after Dunny’s accident where Jamie had nearly lived on the island for several months. It wouldn’t be a surprise if the same thing were to happen yet again, even if he hadn’t been there during the initial attack. He still felt he was partly responsible. The toddlings were his to care for, it didn’t matter that there were numerous other MacFusty cousins involved with their care, especially since it was his brother that had been killed.

He growled as he kicked a rock on the path up to the castle. The sudden primal sound making Gunna’s ears flatten against her head and tail tuck under only to peer up at him with worry in her amber eyes. He didn’t see the change he had caused in the wolf padding along at his side but that didn’t stop him from reaching down and rubbing the wolf’s head. It was enough of a calming gesture for the gray, mottled canine’s tail to come back up slightly and sway behind her as they finished the last few paces up to the door of the castle.

They paused just within the entry and looked around as if it were a foreign land. He wasn’t sure if he should even be there, not with the anger and guilt he felt. But unfortunately, he’d gotten sloppy with a toddler nearing his time to find a territory. The riley beast had slashed out in anger and raked his claws across Jamie’s chest. Luckily he’d been wearing a thick leather jacket otherwise the wound would have been much worse. But as it was, he still needed to clean up the wound then lather it in a poultice to prevent an infection. It would probably scar but as far as Jamie was concerned, he didn’t need stitches.

There the man and his beast stood in the entryway of the castle, looking around with dirty clothes/fur and faces. Jamie’s shirt was ragged from the beast and the blood clearly evident as it had soaked through the linen though was dried and caked on his chest. With a deep breath, he moved to head toward the kitchen but stopped dead in his tracks as the sight of the latest governess at Lews. She would be a problem..

  

[Fionnuala Fairclough]

She’d just finished the children’s last lesson for the day and was on her way to the kitchen. Technically as she was above them in the hierarchy of staff, Nuala could have asked one of the maids to fetch her a snack and some tea, but she didn’t like to step on toes. She was still considered an outsider, too prim and proper by far. Or so the whispers said; and she knew that they knew she could hear them. But what they didn’t know is that she’d spent almost half her life putting up with whispers and outright speculation. It wasn’t common knowledge why she--a woman clearly educated and raised with the best of manners--had been brought so low, had been disowned by her family. And frankly, Nuala wasn’t planning on telling anyone. It wasn’t any of their business and so long as she did her job it shouldn’t be a concern to anyone.

She was crossing the foyer after having come down a smaller back stairway when she saw him. It was one of the MacFusty brothers, but one that she rarely saw at the castle. The one with the wolf. The shadows must have been playing tricks because...no, that was blood! Blue eyes went wide as she stared at him even as he stopped suddenly and stared back, his expression unreadable. His chest was a mess of tattered shirt, stained with blood and gashes peeking through. Her face paled briefly before she shook her head and started towards him. Like all of the MacFustys, he was massive and she couldn’t even begin to think of his name. “Mister MacFusty, you’re hurt.”

Of course he was hurt! But he didn’t seem to realize it if his demeanor was anything to go by. Glancing at the wolf she started towards him, hands adjusting the shawl around her shoulders that fought off the drafts. Stopping several paces in front of him and his furred companion, she clasped her hands together, her eyes assessing the damage as she pressed her lips together. “Should I go and find your mother?”

  

[James MacFusty]

Jamie’s own eyes rolled as he watched the woman’s eyes widen and then her face even pale some. It was a wonder his mother had hired her. She clearly didn’t have what it took to be a governess of the MacFusty clan. If she swooned because of the blood on his shirt, however, he was sure he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his mother. Luckily she didn’t do such a thing and seemed to literally shake it off and instead addressed him with the rather obvious.

His answer was a bark of laughter as he shook his own head. “‘ow’d ya guess?” he questioned as he moved to head toward the kitchens once more but his own steps were stopped by her own steps toward him while clutching a shawl over her shoulders. Woman couldn’t even handle the drafts of the castle!

“Don think thas necessary,” he grumbled back to her at the mention of getting his mother. She’d do just what he planned on doing to take care of the wounds. “Jus need a bit o’whiskey and some clean bandages,” he continued before snapping his fingers at Gunna to follow him, the unusual pair moving to step past her and into the kitchen now. Quite frankly, she was the last woman he wanted, or even needed, helping him to take care of the wounds.

  

[Fionnuala Fairclough]

A spark of irritation at the outburst of laughter along with a faint narrowing of her eyes and a pursing of her lips were the only reaction the man would get for his rather rude remark. It was a look that she had come to developed over the years caring for her nieces and now had perfected in her months at Lews. Lifting her chin, which did nothing to make her seem any taller, she resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest. She’d already cowed one of the man’s brothers with this look, but if his near complete dismissal of her was anything to go by, this MacFusty wasn’t easily cowed. Still, Fionnuala wasn’t the sort to back down. She hadn’t backed down when her father threatened to disown her and she certainly wouldn’t back down now.

“You cannot possibly see the wounds properly to tend to them.” Whiskey and bandages, indeed! Like hell she was going to just let him blunder about with something as serious as the injury seemed to be. Mrs. MacFusty had already lost one child, two if that poor confused girl was to be counted, and loyal little thing that she was, Nuala wasn’t going to let a stubborn refusal to accept help take another of the woman’s children by way of infection!

When he snapped his fingers, for a moment she thought he’d snapped them at her and her eyes went wide with indignation and then narrowed as he and his wolf moved around her and into the kitchen. Turning, she hurried after him. He wasn’t going to get away that easily. “Now wait just a minute! I really do not think you should bring that animal into the kitchen!” Though knowing the strangeness of all the people in the castle, the cook probably wouldn’t blink twice at the wolf. A wolf! Next thing she knew, he’d be bringing a baby dragon in and letting it curl up by the fire, just waiting to devour the younger children.

  

[James MacFusty]

There went another roll of his brown eyes as she said something about not being able to see the wounds. As if that really mattered. All he needed was some whiskey to down then some water and soap to scrub out the wounds. After he’d had a few more drinks, he’d find some of that poultice stuff his ma always had and slather the nasty substance over his chest. He’d drink some more, then pass out. It was all that needed to be done but he saw that she clearly wasn’t going to back down.

Another bark of laughter could be heard as she protested Gunna going into the kitchen. As if cook really minded the beast being in there. He was actually rather certain cook was the reason Gunna always ended up a little on the heavier side whenever he stuck around the castle for too long. “Woman, there’s ne’er been a problem of Gunna bein’ in the kitchen,” Jamie answered rather simply as the entered the kitchen, “Jus’ ask cook.” The MacFusty cook wasn’t in there though. Really no one was and that made it all that much easier to head straight to where he would find a good bottle of whiskey to start helping him take the edge off.

“Don’ya ‘ave some chillun to tend?” he questioned as he realized she was still there after having followed him into the kitchen.

  

[Fionnuala Fairclough]

Woman!? Indulging herself in a brief moment of impropriety and rudeness, Nuala made a face at the man’s back before settling her features into a mildly disapproving expression. She really shouldn’t be surprised that cook didn’t mind a wolf--of all things--in her kitchen. Shaking her head, her lips thin as she pressed them together, she stalked after him into the kitchen and watched as he went to fetch some whiskey. Whiskey and bandages! Her nostrils flared briefly as she huffed and stalked across the kitchen after him. When he realized she was still there and hadn’t just scampered off like some good little “woman”, she raised a brow at his question.

She had to close her teeth on the tip of her tongue to keep the caustic retort from slipping out. Just because he seemed to possess about as many manners as a disgruntled leprechaun, didn’t mean that she had to be rude as well. But her expression clearly expressed her opinion on the state of his maturity. “I am not a nanny.” Though she was beginning to feel like one. Were all MacFusty men so ridiculously stubborn? “Now would you please just let me make sure you do not need stitches?” Though she was easily a foot and a half shorter than him, she didn’t seem at all affected by the difference and gave him just as stern a look as she might have any child, her hands moving to her hips.

  

[James MacFusty]

James couldn't help but to chuckle at the sprite of a woman's response. She had spunk, he had to give her that much. But it was annoying regardless, especially as she insisted on looking at it to see if he needed stitches or not. She clearly hadn't listened to him before. He knew what needed to be done and stitches were definitely the last thing he needed. Not that he'd let her do it anyways if he did need them.

He took a swig of the whiskey, smiling at the burn that trailed down his throat and into his belly. He wiped his scruffy face with the bag of his hand, smacking his lips in the process before waving the bottle at her as a dismissal. "I donnae need no stitches, woman," he answered simply as he stalked to the sink to wet a cloth. Once the tattered shirt was pulled from his back, he started to dab at the wound doing his best not to wince in the process.

  

[Fionnuala Fairclough]

He was laughing! Why did they always laugh at her?! She’d never been so irritated with an entire group of people in her life. Granted she hadn’t really met all of the MacFusty brothers but if they were all cut from the same plaid, then she rather imagined that she would find every last one of them irritating. Mourning or no, their behavior much of the time truly was inexcusable and her eyes flashed as he tried to wave her away with a bottle of whiskey. A bottle of whiskey! She repressed the urge to snatch it out of his hands and throw it into the kitchen hearth by clenching her hands at her sides and narrowed her eyes at the man. Her tongue, however, was not so easily controlled.

“And how would you even know?” It didn’t appear that he’d even so much as looked at the wounds yet. Just assumed that it would be all well and good because he was a man and he was strong. She watched him as he moved towards the sink and glowered a bit more as she watched him strip off his shirt. She’d seen more than her share of bare chested men since coming to Lews castle. She was even nearly over the shock of it though her cheeks still colored slightly. He was dabbing at the gashes on his chest with...Saints preserve her, she was going to go mad!

Turning away from him, she slipped out of the kitchen briefly to fetch some cleaned and pressed linen and then set it on the scoured surface of the kitchen table. She didn’t know too terribly much about healing but even she knew how to properly clean a wound. Whiskey and bandages! Honestly! Really she should just go and fetch Mrs. MacFusty and let her deal with her insufferable son, but the woman was grieving and she didn’t want to bother her.

“You are going to give yourself an infection.” She chided before walking over and snatching the cloth right out of his hands and chucking it in a bin of dirty rags under the sink. She gave him a stern look and filled a porcelain bowl with water from the sink and took it back to the table. In a matter of minutes, with some help from her wand and a bit of magic, the water was steaming. “Sit.”

  

[James MacFusty]

The silence was a godsend for Jamie and he'd almost believed that the governess had given up and left. Good. Damn woman. He knew what he was doing and with another swig of the whiskey, he knew the pain would be much more tolerable. Not that it was really that bad. Really, it was just a few deep scratches but they'd take care of themselves. It could have been much worse but luckily it wasn't so the whiskey was well enough of a pain killer for the tall man.

Jamie had just picked the rag back up after taking a good hearty swing when he heard the woman's voice again. "Bloody hell," he grumbled as it quickly became obvious she hadn't given up. He didn't, however, expect her to snatch the cloth from his hand so quickly and throw it under the sink. Her own stern look was returned with one of his own, though his didn't last long as his eyes crinkled with amusement and he chuckled again. He had to wonder if that look of hers actually worked on anyone or if she just thought it did.

Instead of obliging to her request, he simply turned around and leaned against the sink. One hand rested on the edge of it as the other grasped the neck of his bottle of whiskey, bringing it to his lips for another drink as he watched her prep the water then demand him to sit. "Nah, think aam good," came his reply, his eyes still crinkled slightly in amusement as he was certain that little red head of hers was going to start spewing steam any moment now.