He licks her again as a yes and then pulls back and walks away. He's relaxing and that only ever means one thing. He jumps up onto the bed and lies down; a minute or two later he's slipping back into himself.

If he'd thought it through, he perhaps wouldn't have gone to the bed. She's going to have to throw the sheets out; there's blood still pouring out of a clearly badly broken nose and split lips, he's curling up immediately into a position that should be very familiar these days, holding his groin again and starting to tense in pain.

She'll also see that his jeans have been sliced off him at the back, his favourite leather belt cut clean through.

'Hospital, Fi.'

He's not going to put up any kind of bravado this time. He needs a doctor.