His eye's followed the blades metal, hungrily waiting for blood to be spilled, he had nearly tortured that jarring crippled girl, whatever was inside needed to be crammed down for good. Tristan didn't hurt people usually unless requested.

"Happy to hear it."

Her lungs rejoiced when they filled with air again, burning as she breathed in. She leaned against the wall for balance due to the lack of support from her crutches. With her body slumped against the wall she heard the spark of a lighter, “Listen, go get your kicks out of some of the girls here that enjoy being tortured.”

His eyes focused into the flickering flame, it licked the air in a whisper and with a release of the it’s black button, extinguished easily. Her gasps for breath broke throw the subsiding anger inside of Tristan and then her words came next. Torture? That wasn’t who he was, but what had just happened? He had wanted to burn her alive only seconds ago a single spark to her hair would have done the trick. “I’m-I’m..” He wanted to apologize but there wasn’t anything like that in him. 

She gasped for air but remained somewhat calm with the situation, gripping his arms to keep herself up and to allow a bit of air to pass through her lungs. The only thing that flashed through her mind is how she couldn’t allow Killian to know what happened, he would go more insane and protective than he already was. “Let…go.” She gasped.

He growled watching her gasp in his hold and though it sickened him, the rage demanded to be fed, so the man tightened his grip. He could do it, squeeze the life from her and watch her taste remorse at the last moment, for months Tristan felt suffocated, this was the way out. He released the tight grip, but pulled out a lighter, flicked it and held the button to heat the metal. There was no other way out. 

  She didn’t flinch as she came up, but struggled to breath. Serena’s eyes locked onto his, no fear shown in her bright blue eyes. She simply brought her remaining leg up and kicked him in the groin. “Don’t touch me.”

Tristan felt her leg kick him, but his anger was twice the amount the pain that was brought on, true it almost knocked the wind out of his lungs and made his eyes water, however the rage had been just below the surface to long. “You girls are one-trick ponies, it’s sad,” He grunted, seethed, soon taking her by the throat and slamming her up against the wall roughly, back first. “And you picked the wrong day.” 

She laughed, “Do you really think I’m afraid of you? Do you really think you can hurt me more than Ace did when he chopped my leg off?” She rolled her eyes and then stared into the mans, “I would like to see you try.”

He clutched the lighter, but couldn’t keep it all down anymore, everything piled up was falling down, toppling over the edges and he jumped up, knocking the crutches out of the way, then found his hand clasped tightly around her thin throat. “You think a severed limb is the worst thing you’ve experienced?, believe me, you could have so much less sweets.” 

“No because I don’t sit around like you complaining about my situation. I fix things if I don’t like it.” She glared at him.

“You’re absolutely right, I should start now by fixing you.” Tristan said looking up at the other patient seriously, “I heard it’s awful hard to run on crutches.” 

“And here I was but convinced I was a waste of a business man.”

Tristan gave a laugh, weighing out it options, “All right, but make it interesting.” 

“Maybe you do need to go to therapy. You seem like you need to spend an hour with an old man that will just medicate you to the point that you are a mindless idiot sitting in your room.”

“Hmm, is that what they did to you doll, because you have the mindless idiot thing down perfectly to be honest.” He said quietly. 

“A mighty stab wound and a lack of blood.”

“Tempting.” 

She raised her eyebrows at the nick name, her eyes darting back the the wound that left her without a leg from the knee down. “Do you feel better about yourself?” She rolled her eyes and moved the crutches to the side. “Sounded to me like you were complaining like a child.”

He watched her posture change, a small sense of satisfaction filled the young man, “Entirely so, that’s why I said it.” Tristan sat up a bit straighter, hand reaching into his pocket for the dead lighter next to the newer one. Keep it down. He told himself, exhaling, “It doesn’t matter in the slightest what you think it sounded like.” 

She signed and hobbled over with her crutches to sit in front of the man. “Right. But you can hide. If you don’t want to do something then you find ways of not doing something instead of complaining.”

“Thanks for the tip, Skip.” He answered in reference to the woman’s crutches, rubbing his eyes sleepily, “It was hardly a complaint, more of a general statement .” 

“Allow me the honor of performing the incision, would you?”

“Well, I could..but then what would I get out of it?” 

“Then don’t go. Fuck it.” She shrugged and flashed him a smile.

“Oh my God, why didn’t I think of that?” He asked, with a mocking tone, cupping his face in mock surprise. “Oh right, because it’s mandatory!” Tristan dropped both hands to either side, then flopped down near her with a huff.

“I’d rather impale myself before I go to another shite therapy session.”

He chewed a small part of the flesh inside his cheek watching her movements and wondered if the response was wrong of him. How could it be? His father probably did, but he was gone now. Even cattle needed conversation and assurance. Tristan was relieved to see she had believed him and found his usual devilish smile unable to leave his face. He internally tensed at the feel of the woman's hands, as if it was almost too much, but he breathed steadily. "Doro, cool, where you from? I mean before here of course?" Tristan began walking with intentions of getting fruit from the cafeteria and maybe a wrap.

He couldn't hold back a small polite laugh at her unusual way of putting things, it had taken a moment to realize the girl probably meant 'rain check" and in response Tristan shook his head, "Most people say reschedule and I don't think that's something to put off, because it's not happening."

With another shake of his head, the man politely offered his arm to the girl, stomach rumbling. "Do I get your name or shall I make one up?"

Tristan gave her a small look of confusion at the response, something gave him the impression she wasn’t joking entirely and an uncomfortable feeling rose up as she exited. He waited to reply when the door was closed, a gentle tone flowed from his lips.

“Hurting you isn’t on today’s agenda.” He said, with a half smile, already he could feel himself adjusting to her company, which wasn’t a rare task, once he was comfortable enough. It seemed though that she needed no effort which was unusual but not entirely unpleasant. "No, see a gentleman would now offer you an arm, but you seem capable of walking without it."