Violet is sleeping. She'd woken up once or twice that morning already, but her eyelids were too heavy to keep up for long. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so tired,.. also, she didn't really want to wake up yet. Someone had come in to ask her questions when she'd first woken up, about what had happeed the previous night.

Violet had insisted she didn't remember, even though she remembers it all too well. Three things especially. She remembers the gun.And Dave. And she remembers the blood. It seems to her that there was a lot of it.

Dave did not sleep well. They let him go home this morning, when there was no evidence to continue holding him, but let's face it. Holding cells aren't very pleasant places to be, especially when one is worried sick.

Literally. He threw up at least three times.

But he's here now, after a stop at his apartment to change clothes and shower--Vi's blood on him. Shudder. That might have been part of the cause of the throwing up--and he's been directed to Violet's room, and..

She's asleep. He can deal with that. She's not dead, that's the important thing. He settles himself in the chair next to her bed and just watches her.

Violet's eyelids flicker faintly after a moment, and her head lolls to one side on the pillow - she's a light sleeper, however tired she may be. A few strands of her hair fall across her face, tickling her nose. She crinkles up her face and gives a quiet mutter of discontent that sounds something like, "Nnf..."

He reaches over and brushes her hair out of her face.

"Are you awake, baby?"

I'm not sure when he started calling her that. It just seems to have attached itself to his speech patterns.

Violet's face crinkles up even further for a moment - waking up is never fun - and then she opens her eyes halfway. Her gaze roves around the room for a few moments before settling on Dave.

"...Iunno. Am I?" she says quietly, unsure.

"'less you talk in your sleep, I guess you are. Hi."

He manages a smile, but it's different than his usual little-boy grin. Sadder, smaller, more hesitant. A night in jail tends to sober one up, I think.

"How're you feeling?"

"Okay, I think." Violet frowns slightly, and adds, "...Kind of groggy, though."
And that would be because she's still under the influence of medication - as she will be for a while yet.
"What happened after..." she paused "..after I passed out? I did black out for a minute, didn't I,... next thing I know, I'm waking up here."

He shrugs a little.

"They took you away and brought you here, I guess. I was busy trying to explain what happened without sounding like a nutcase."

Pause.

"I don't think I did a very good job."

"I just told them that I didn't remember. What did happen?" Violet closed her eyes, her frown deepening. She spoke slowly and deliberately, as if she was taking time to select exactly the right words. "Why'd she come over, why did she make us play that... game?...You said she'd leave me alone..."

Dave didn't have bloodloss as an excuse, unfortunately.

"She said she would. She promised. But she said that I'd owe her a favor, or else 'this little story will have a very unhappy ending.' I guess that was the favor..."

He really, really hopes that was the favor, because he doesn't want to ever have to deal with Fortuna again.

"You didn't tell me that before."
Violet looked ...we'll say 'disappointed'.
"I ased you if there was anything else,... and you said no..."

Dave looks down.

"... I was kind of hoping you wouldn't have to find out. I thought it would only affect me, and that you'd be safe."

He looked up at her.

"Vi, I'm so fucking sorry that you got brought into it. I wish it'd been me shot, not you."

"I wish you'd told me... but it's all done, and we can't change it."
That's as reproachful as she's going to get.
"...Personally, I'd rather neither of us were shot," she added, and cracked a weak smile.

Dave managed an imitation of his usual grin.

"Well, yeah. But if somebody had to be shot, I wish to g--I wish it'd been me. I deserve it a lot more, for one thing."

Well, if being stupid were cause to be shot--which some may well argue that it is--then yes. But most people would argue against that, and besides, he's never stupid on purpose.

"Pff. You don't deserve to be shot," Violet opens her eyes and smirks at him. "...Anyway, you didn't get shot instead of me. And it's not like I'm gonna die or anything." She grimaced. "Might miss a few classes' worth of notes, though. Damn."

"I think even Dr. B. would have to admit that you have a good reason to not go to class." Pause. "You're not taking him this semester, are you?"

It's a change of subject, and not entirely a natural one. (Oh, and Dave disagrees. He thinks that he deserves to be shot, and it'd take a lot to convince him otherwise.)

"No, I'm not. I managed to get into an English class that isn't taught by him."
Violet giggled a little.
"...I don't know,... he was pretty strict on attendance. I might not get away with it..."

"Come on, you got shot. He'd have to admit that you weren't just cutting class 'cause you wanted to."

Pause.

"Then again, maybe he'd drop your grade anyway. He is a bastard."

"Mm." She's not going to outright say 'yes, Dr. Barclay is a bastard', because Keye seems to see something in him. Not that she likes him any more because of it.
"Oh, well. Not taking his class anyway," she said, and gave a one-shouldered shrug.

Dave nodded also and tentatively took her hand.

"When do you get to go home?"

You realize, he hasn't told her where he spent the night yet.

"I don't know. Haven't asked," she shook her head. "Soon, I hope... how do I find out?"
Violet's unfamiliar with hospitals. The only other time she was in for an overnight stay was when she had her tonsils out, and that was years ago.

"Ask, prob'ly. When the doctor or nurse or whoever comes in and checks your chart and things."

He shrugs a little. He hasn't spent a lot of time in hospitals either, except for that time he shattered his knee.

"Mm. I'll do that, then. Don't like this place very much. It'll be nice to know when I can leave," she sighed. Yep, she's already homesick. Dorm-sick. Whatever.

He nodded and squeezed her hand.

"D'you know if they did a lot of surgery or anything? I wasn't here."

"I don't know what they did. I haven't thought to check."
I wonder if it looks messy. Bet it'll scar...
She tilted her head to one side. "...Where were you?"

He flushes and shrugs.

"Jail."

Which was perfectly natural for the police, considering the suspicious circumstances, but...

"What- why?" She exclaims, indignant.
Violet seems to be forgetting that, whether she wanted it or not, Dave had been the one holding the weapon went it went off. He did shoot her.
But he shouldn't have to be in trouble for it...

"I shot you, 'member? Except I didn't tell them that, and they just didn't like the story I told them. Or whatever."

He was very vague.

"Well, yeah... but it wasn't your fault..." she said sheepishly. "What did you tell them?..."

He thinks about this.

"It was an accident? I'm not good at making stuff up, and I was not about to mention Fo--that bitch. Not going to a loony bin, thanks."

"You should have told them it was someone else. You could have told them it was her, you just didn't have to mention what she is."
Violet reads too many books. Several of those are mystery novels.
"Could've told them she was a jealous ex-girlfriend - I think I still have the picture. Jealousy, there's her motive. She comes in, catches us together - Bang. Took the weapon with her, which is why it won't be found. I bet some of the other people in your building saw her go, so that means there are witnesses. She would have been seen leaving." She smirked. She's only half-joking. "Fabrication 101."

"..."

Dave blinks, considers this, and cocks his head to one side.

"Hadn't thought of that."

Obviously.

"Well, you can tell them what you want,... I just said that I was over at your place watching a movie, but I didn't remember what happened next. I was half-asleep, though.. they'll probably be back to try again."

He nods thoughtfully.

"Yeah... Guess I can."

At this point, he yawns, because he really didn't sleep well and tries unsuccessfully to cover it.

Violet frowned at him.
"You should go home and get some sleep," she said. Not that she wanted him to leave, but she could see that he was tired.

He shrugged.

"I can sleep here, can't I? People expect it."

Anyway, he doesn't want to go home. There's still blood on his walls... and it's a crime scene. He's unlikely to get much sleep there, frankly.

"You won't be comfortable," She pouted at him. "I'm not trying to kick you out, but...I bet it's been a long night for you, and all..."

He shrugged.

"Not that uncomfortable. And you should sleep too, probably."

"I probably should," she agreed, with an exasperated-sounding sigh, and closed her eyes. "...I will if you will."

"'kay."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then sort of flopped back into the chair and closed his eyes.

... that didn't take long. For him to nod off, I mean.