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It was perhaps something of a risk teleporting back into his own dorm room, Dem might have had guests... fortunately, the odds were stacked against him bringing them back to 'their' room, if for no other reason than Zac's own reputation for a 'short' temper and traps.
He thought, he probably had a better chance of teleporting on TOP of Demy than he did of running into a visitor.
Fortunately, his thoughts on those odds were right. He teleported in safe enough, right by his own bed and sat down the second he was sure he wasn't sitting ON anything.

He was still in 'uniform'... his pant leg was tatters and threads and blood, his coat sleeve still smoldering and his hand cradled to his chest.
He looked -murderous-, Zac was NEVER murderous, not like this... not even if you left him stuffed in a locker and refused to let him out till he'd said "Dem is Awesome" 25 times... like the old days.

Murderous, though, faded to something that could be only called 'not quite lesser agony'... burns were, the worst. THE....worst...injury ever to exist, or at least that would be Zac's assessment if you asked him just then as he flexed shaking scorched fingers.

"I -KNOW- That..." He hissed through teeth so tightly clenched you could almost hear them squeaking together.
He closed his eyes and shrugged off the coat.
"Just...close the blinds a moment ok?" He hissed and shifted back to civilian clothes with a wince of pain.
He pulled off his hoodie with watering eyes to reveal a hand and wrist burned badly by... god knew what and then started to kick off his shoes showing socks that were already being stained with blood. <********...." He snarled.

"Burn ointment... a LOT...and a lot...a LOT of bandages and anti bacterial ointment." He hissed. "Maybe some of the butterfly bandages." He said through gritted teeth as he gingerly removed the pants to reveal a well 'attended' leg. His thin pants had done little to protect his leg where she had latched on, even his boots in uniform had been well the worse for wear. <******** ...Cat... nearly HAD the little ******** its sticking ********..." He swore and pulled hard to free it from where it had started to stick, setting the blood running fresh and new and smacking off his burned hand making him double over cursing.

Zac gave him a very -dry- stare at the bolt away from the spider. He pondered getting up just to escort it out of the room but decided that no, no he was too tired and too hurt right now.
It wasn't as though he'd never cursed before...or sworn. He'd done both on many occasions, just his eyes normally didn't water as he did so...
Fortunately for the somewhat histrionic Dem, even in this anomaly hot fit of temper, you could still see the cold and calculating Zink under it all, it was forever reflected in his eyes... something at the core of him that would not be melted even in the hottest fires... only very transiently obscured.
"Dem..." He said managing an even, if strained tone, that matched those early times when Dem had gotten distracted by something while he was trying to give him a task and note cards...

"Dem... my hand is burned to hell...and a cat has mauled my leg. I just -lost- said cat...and I was beaten with a garbage can for my trouble... can you please... stop stuttering, and jittering, and help me put the burn lotion on for starters. Then... I need to make sure none of these are so deep that they can't be bandaged, or butterfly bandaged. I'd really like to -stop- bleeding sometime this evening."

There was something about pretending you were calm that furthered calm, at least in Zac's mind it did. He still hurt... oh god did he hurt, his whole hand and part of his arm were reduced to raw nerve endings in a world of pain.... but rational, was the only way to serve them both.

The mock salute brought a small -twitch- to the corner of the bluenet's eye and he bit back a comment that would have been purely vindictive about baby spiders JUST because of how quickly things turned around and for the salute.

He closed his eyes and tried hard not to curse again. "Please god tell me that burn ointment kills pain..." He hissed and wondered, if he made a fist...would it have a 'star' imprinted on his knuckles as an area of worst damage? He didn't even want to know.

Zink was so close to another fit of swearing and cursing the mothers and ancestors of 'that cat' it wasn't even funny. He wound up biting down on Mr. Tenebrous' arm, it tasted AWFUL, though he determined it had to be better than a bullet.

He turned his hand towards him and examined his knuckles. It was not clear, but he was almost sure that the damage was just a bit worse in a very particular pattern, blisters and bright red focused there. Wretched cat... he decided then and there to donate to every DOG rescue he found find.

God He hoped they had some pain killers left. He wiped at his eyes with his 'good' hand and tried to think of how he might even START to explain his visible injuries.

"A little siamese... TINY little s**t..." He said through gritted teeth and winces as the blood got cleaned away to reveal the long scratches and the occasional teeth marks.
He took the pain killers gratefully, a perhaps foolish trust that the dosage recommended would be fine, no doubt he would sleep VERY well tonight, bruises, cuts, burns and all.
"I swear if I find that thing again we'll find out the actual going value of 'Cat' star seeds... " he said in a moment of vehemence as he flexed his fingers again and tried to decide if he was just imagining the vague star shape crisped into his hand.

The demand earned him a -scowl-, as did the 'joke'.
"Your -so- funny.... I'm just in stitches..." He said with such dry sarcasm you could have shaved with it. "I -told- you it was a guardian cat... she fried my hand when I punched her. THIS is why I abhor strait violence...it's FAR better to be subtle... ridiculous just...RIDICULOUS...I can't believe it still looks like a star."
He cursed and groused though it was at least more subdued than before.