Word Count: 514

“So let me get this straight...”

Lovely rolled his eyes and held back any snide comments, one foot on the stairs ready to climb up to his bedroom. Dorian stood by the front door with his arms crossed over his chest, an expectant look on his face.

“You were mugged...” he said.

“Yup,” Lovely agreed.

“On the way back from the mall...”

“Uh huh.”

“Which you never go to...”

“Ilian wanted to go.”

“But they didn't manage to take anything...”

“Because we fought them off, yeah,” Lovely said.

It was a weak story and he knew it, but General Cinnabar had suggested the mugging and it was all Lovely could think of to explain his injuries when his brother finally descended upon him in his hospital room. Were he more experienced in lying he might have been able to come up with something a shred more believable.

“You realize how ridiculous that sounds,” Dorian pointed out.

“How is it ridiculous? This city is dangerous.”

“You wouldn't set foot in the mall even if Ilian wanted to go...”

“Well, I did.”

“And you're not the type to get into fights.”

“Shows how much you know,” Lovely said.

It was the truth. Had he really been mugged, Lovely would have handed over everything he had on him to avoid the repercussions that would surely follow if he didn't. It wasn't as if anything he had to hand over couldn't be replaced, after all. It wasn't worth it to fight over it.

But he was sticking by his story. If Dorian didn't want to believe him, that was his prerogative. He didn't have any proof to the contrary anyway.

Lovely ignored his brother's frown and the expectant looks being thrown his way. Instead, he began to ascend the staircase. He'd been battered and bruised and cut open, and he didn't care to talk about it any more than he already had during the ride home. He was still trying to process what had happened to him, and his feelings about it.

Why had he taken that attack in Jet's stead? He'd known it was dangerous before jumping in. Usually his sense of self-preservation won out, but not this time. No, this time he'd been foolish. He'd jumped in the way of an attack by a Princess, and now he had an ugly scar on his side to show for it, courtesy of one of Jet's knives.

Had it even been worth it? Jet had still gotten hurt.

“Leigh,” Dorian said.

Lovely stopped halfway up the stairs and turned to glance down at his brother.

Dorian didn't look any more likely to believe him, but he relented and heaved a sigh. “Take it easy,” he said.

Lovely rolled his eyes again but nodded all the same. He put a hand to his side to ease the strain on his wound as he finished climbing the stairs. Then he turned down the hall to his bedroom, where he shut the door firmly behind him.