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Howie froze at the sound of the dog and the chuckle. Ohshitohshitohshit! Someone else is here and I'm going to get arrested or worse! Damn, I'm in no condition to run from dogs... He tried to back away from the window, but his balance was off. Hopefully not a concussion, he thought grimly. Instead, he managed to trip over himself and fall in a heap, cracking his forehead on the window on the way down. He lay there, stunned, trying to get his body to move.

What an embarrasing way to die.

Howie grinned dazedly up at her. "Hey there, angel. Could y' turn down them lights? They's kinda making my head spin." He wondered for a moment if the splotches of light on his vision were actually coming from the house, but that second knock to his head seemed to have knocked something loose in his coherent thinking department.

"Get up?" He considered for a moment. "Yeah, why the hell not?" He shoved himself up on his elbows, his head throbbing in protest. He managed to get onto his knees by clinging to the widow frame, then blinked up at Jessica and the dog. "Uh... erg, darling? I think I'm gonna be sick..." He looked pale, even in the dark, and a dark spot was forming on the cheekbone where he had taken a blow meant for his nose.

He frowned a little in concentration, his face looking strangely empty without his ever-present grin. "I was careful, jus' not 'nough." He shoved himself to his feet and swayed for a mintue. "I've had worse, I'll be all right. Just need some patching up and I didn' wanna collapse on the street." He touched the wound on the back of his head again and winced. "I'll be fine."

Howie let Jessica move him to the living room, and when he saw the couch he grinned again and fell on in enthusiastically. "I didn't know if anyone else was here, so I didn't want to just go up and ring the doorbell and all," he explained with a wave of his hand. He leaned forward to avoid bleeding on her furniture.

"Oh, a smart dog, huh?" He glanced up at her. "You trained her for emergency situations? What, you often get guys showing up at your place after getting their scrawny asses kicked?" He grinned broadly to show that he was kidding. At least most of the spots swimming in front of his vision seemed to have vanished, and he was thinking more clearly now. Unfortunately, the headache had only gotten worse.

Howie flinched a little as she touched his wound, but he stayed as still as possible while she was fixing him up. He kept busy by watching the animals. "Guess you're never short of company, huh," he commented. "What clients?" He was just trying to make conversation, really. His head gave an extra loud throb and he sucked in his breath. "Don't suppose you have any painkillers in there, do you?" He gasped.

"Not a bad life," Howie mumbled as he wrestled with the 'child-proof cap.' Damn the things, he had never gotten the hang of them. After a good couple moments' work, the top popped off and he tipped out two pills into his hand, dry-swallowing them easily. "Damn, Jessica, you're a lifesaver," he sighed gratefully, closing his eyes as he waited for the drugs to work their magic. Painkillers were a rare luxury to him - usually he made due with alcohol or other available substitutes.

A stray though crossed his mind. An animal behaviorist, huh? He wondered if she could apply that to people, too. He lived like an animal most of the time, anyway. He grinned at the thought, but then shoved it aside after deeming the musings too morbid.