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Ever curled hands down around his tea, considering the blankets with his head tilted to the side for a long moment before he looked up at Zac again.

"I can toss them in with my things. Going to try washing the pants anyway." Permanent ink. A cruel trap. At least he'd been wearing black. Ever shook his head and brought the cup up for a long sip, pondering how else he might be able to help Zac out.

"Tell them I hit a cop. I don't have to be tough to hit a cop, just stupid." And thus, he could at least play that part. Ever licked his lips and shifted a little where he sat.

"My shirt's here somewhere -- it's the pants that are the problem." With a shake of his head, he went digging through the bag for more food. He'd eat white rice -- and not only that, but he'd eat it happily, perfectly content with it plain. At least it was fully cooked. In his past, he had certainly had problems with half-cooked, still-crunchy grains of rice.

"You can't really help with the pants, I don't think. I'd look ridiculous in yours." A little wrinkle of his nose, he shoved a mounth ful into his face -- and then paused, offering the paper container to Zac. Should probably share.

Ever smiled at him again, finally, even if his expression was still uncertain. He didn't want a flipping-out Zac again. Instead he wanted the Zac that sat next to him and seemed calm enough with physical contact.

"What else might they think it was, Zac?" His tone was too sweet, too easy, eyebrows raised, feigning ignorance and innocence. Ever was bad at both of those expressions, especially with his mouth full of rice and his crotch stained darkly blue with ink.

A good thing; Ever relaxed immediately, obviously, shaking his head as he fished around in the bottom of the container of rice. It didn't taste like wet cardboard to him. It tasted like plain old white rice. Easy and delicious.

"Am I being punished, still? You over there, me over here...?" He waved the chopsticks at Zac, easy. "Or are you afraid I'll get ink on you and they'll have more to joke about?"

"...Zac. You have to stop using words like 'ointment' so much. It's not sexy at all." He thought about it, chewing and swallowing, and then eased in closer, fighting the urge to get ink all over Zac. Ever shook his head just a tiny bit.

"It's okay. The bruising feels worse, to be honest, the burn's just..." Another little wave of chopsticks, and a quick shake of his head. "It's like the really annoying icing on the cake, you know. Sensitive. I'll recover."

"I'll go to the clinic again, if it ever is." He shook his head, fighting with the last bite of rice for a long moment before deciding it wasn't worth the hassle. He was full enough, and somewhere in the bottom of the bag were fortune cookies, with arguably-sexual fortunes within. What could be better?

He went digging, came up with one for himself and held another out toward Zac.

"...in bed." It was mumbled around his own cookie, the plastic already gone and half of it shoved whole into his mouth. At least he chewed and swallowed before grinning at Zac, the little paper curled out between his fingers. "That was a disappointing one. True, maybe, but..."

He turned attention down to his own, and his expression went brighter, hopelessly amused.

"You will have a fine capacity for the enjoyment of life." As he came to the end of it, he looked up at Zac. Expectant.