Welcome to Gaia! ::

Sarah listened silently to what the guys were saying. Since she was driving, she couldn't really see their expressions. However, she heard the pain in their voices. She sympathized with them. "You guys need rest? I can drive you to my place. It's not too far and we have enough room." Ish. "If it's worth anything, I think you guys are awesome for having lasted this long. To be taken out of your element and forced into something else..." she tightened her hands on the wheel, "is a hard thing to go through. At least let me help where I can, 'kay?"

Still she couldn't see their expressions, but she hoped they believed her. She owed it to them for saving her stupid a**.

"You shouldn't get more involved in this..." Anatoly began, looking at Sarah. He laughed, a harsh, bitter laugh. He sounded more like a war veteran than someone who'd been a schoolteacher two months ago. "No, they've seen you, like they've seen us. They know you. They can find you. There's no getting out now, I suppose." He frowned. "The question is whether your house is still safe. I imagine it would be; we should only stop by long enough to gather your important things, though. I imagine mine are still safe in my deposit box... But for now, let's raid your house for whatever you need, then hit a motel, if we have the cash. We're fugitives now."

Blaine slowly got out of the car after everyone else and half-walked half-limped into the house.
He simply looked around, watching as Anatoly took whatever he needed. Blaine didn't really need much, he never did need much. But he did need to get clean, he was getting increasingly uncomfortable.

"Do you think there's time for me to take a quick shower?" he asked.

Sarah studied Anatoly's face. "Mmkay, dude with the limp, go take a shower. I'm sure it'll be fine." She wasn't really looking at Blaine, but more worried over Anatoly's sanity.

She walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "s**t, man. Uhh, I dunno how to do these talk things, but you look like you could use it." She wasn't sure how these things were supposed to go. "Look. You got us out of a bad situation. Alive. So don't be a dumb a** and attempt to take all the blame." She scratched the back of her head and looked to the side. "And uhh. Yeah...if you ever need to talk. Or something. Fight maybe. But yeah. Talking...I'll listen."

She turned to look at the soup. "Don't worry about the soup and stuff. S'alright to take."

Blaine took off towards where he figured the bathroom was. "Thank you." he said, his voice still shakey, "My name's Blaine, by the way."

Before long, Blaine found the bathromm and rushed in, desperate to get clean. Damn dirtiness! Blaine stripped down, folded his clothes, and took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. His pink eyes were the only familiar sight. He seemed so different, so changed Blaine thought.
it's just the dirt. he told himself, I'm still the same ol' Blaine...right?
With a sigh, Blaine pulled himself from the mirror and into the shower. He started the water and tested the temperature three times. Once satisfied, he stepped in and let the warm water was the filth from his body.

Blaine closed his eyes, enjoying the cleansing properties of water. He did so for a good three minutes before he began to scrub his hair and body clean.

He was finally satisfied and about to step out when he noticed red water running down his legs. Blood? No! Not blood! Dammit! Damn it all!
Blaine had discover shallow cuts on His legs, including an unnervingly deep gash on his right calf.

His lip began to quiver, "********." he swore quietly, "******** began to scrub the cuts fiercely with soap and water, swearing increasingly loudly.

s**t! Now he had two things to worry about! He didn't want to be seen naked! Blaine couldn't find the will to speak cohesively, so he did the first thing he could think of. He stumbled out of the shower and grabbed a towel he began to half-dry half-scrub his
lower body. Once he was dry enough, he grabbed his boxers and pulled them on as quickly as he could manage.
He then realized how torn, bloody, and dirty his jeans were. That would have to wait. For now, all Blaine could do was sit on the floor as he tried desperately to rub the blood, or rather, the injuries altogether, away.

"I want to be. But I don't deserve to be," Anatoly muttered, beginning to unload his cart into the car. He looked forward and saw Kitt, still in the back. "Hey, Kitt... how're you holding up?" he asked, a little nervously.