"Slys." He says, shaking him again. "It's time to change your bandages." Drawing his hand back, he switches which one was holding the cup. Flug sits up against the arm of the couch, hand coming up to attempt to push his hair from his face as his eyes flutter open again.
                          
"What smells good?" He murmurs, looking up at him with those eyes that reminded him of an archangel's from centuries ago.
                          
"The man made tea. It should be cool enough that it shouldn't burn." Flug takes the mug, holding it in front of him as he breathes in the smell. I don't need a mate.
                          
"Thank you, Sir." He says, bringing it to his lips. Frowning at himself he adverts his gaze, watching Cäcilie make her way down the stairs. Her long hair tied up sloppily at the base of her neck, poking out every which way. She joins Obed in the kitchen and speaks quietly.
                          
"Once you're finished I'll change your bandages." He says. The man nods, tilting his head back as he begins to drink. BlackHat gives him a final glance before making his way into the kitchen. At the counter, the child was sat at a bar stool, shaking hands signing, slowly and unsure. Ka'apeha watches her intently, trying to make out what she was trying to say.
                          
"Milk?" She says. "Would you like some milk, Sweetie?" The girl pauses, before slowly nodding. It didn't seem to be exactly what she had been trying to ask for, but it was close enough for her. Ka'apeha smiles at the child, running her hand through her hair before turning towards the fridge.
                          
"Jefe," Cäcilie says, noticing him and rounding the counter. "Ajah and Obed want to talk to you later." She says. He frowns at this but nods.
                          
"They can wait." He says. "Flug's bandages need to be changed. I'm just coming for the basket." He says, subtly adjusting his overcoat. For a moment she's looking at him with a certain unreadable look before nodding.
                          
"Of course." She says, pointing towards the restroom door connected to the kitchen. "Its underneath the skin in there." With a nod he makes his way into the bathroom and kneels down, pulling the cabinet doors open. He only takes what he truly needs, leaving the rest in their places.
                          
As he makes his way back out of the bathroom and towards the living room he catches the little girl staring at him. And for the first time, he entertains the thought of even considering a human child for mating. A unique disgust settles in his gut at the thought as he forces himself to carry on. One would think because demons were malevolent spirits, who derived pleasure and power from the suffering of others, there wouldn't be general rules—well, loose guidelines—one ought to follow. It seemed common sense to both look for and after one's mate. To not take unwilling mates. Especially children mates, of any species.
                          
Flug still held the mug by the time BlackHat returned. In reality, he hadn't been gone that long, but at which the rate Flug drank coffee at the manor he would have expected he be done with his drink by now. He looks up as BlackHat returns and sets the bandages and antibiotic cream on the cushion. Wordlessly, he sets the cup down on the floor before turning around.
                          
Hesitating for only a moment he unscrews the lid and dips a claw in. There's a quiet whisper in the back of his skull, animal. It says as he traces the lashes across his skin. Acting like a lower demon, crazed for a exotic mate to raise your status. Control yourself, you're a Rager in an unmated demon's body.
                          
Shifting underneath the sensation of the gauze going onto his skin, he pulls him from his thoughts. What had this all stirred up in him? What part of having to dispose of several demons and tromp through half of Europe? It was frankly a bother. A minor annoyance. There was no better thought than returning to the manor and settling with a nice cup of tea mixed with arsenic. To have his scientists safely at home, able to carry out his normal duties with minimum distraction from the woman. The thought of sharing the sofa with him. Reading a book aloud to him as he leans against his shoulder, dozing off quietly. Quiet breaths beside him, under him as he- Though, his dismisses and scolds himself for the thought as soon as it crosses his mind.