Till Death Do Us Part

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The bird nodded and chirped. Eliza hummed a bit as she showered, washing herself clean.
 
John walked down the stairs, glancing around the simple interior of the inn. It was a nice place, he noted. Cleaner than most inns he'd had to stay in. "You want some bread?" he asked the bird, figuring he could feed Flighty too. Even though the little sparrow had admitted to wanting him dead. Still, he wasn't one to judge. A lot of people wanted John dead. He took a seat at the bar, and made his order.
 
The bird chirped happily. Eliza smiled as she cleaned off all of the dirt and blood that had caked over the past weeks. She watched it flow down the drain, using the soap to scrub herself clean.
 
"Alright, I'll share some," he told Flighty, tearing off a small chunk from the piece on his plate and offering it to the bird. It was an odd feeling for John, feeding a bird perched on his shoulder. It was definitely not something he usually did. Still, he didn't mind the company. Tearing off a couple more similar chunks, he set them on the table so that the sparrow could eat while John did the same.
 
The sparrow quickly ate, enjoying the bread. Eliza was finishing up her shower in her bathroom, feeling refreshed. She stopped the water flow and awkwardly started to dry herself off. She got dressed with a lot of trouble and hopped to the bedroom, sitting down on the bed with a sigh.
 
"Want any more?" John asked Flighty after swallowing a mouthful of potatoes, hoping that he'd given the bird enough bread. He was amazed at how good the food here was, actually, something he hadn't noticed the night before. Of course, considering how tired he had been, that wasn't all that surprising. Now, though, he could take his time and truly savor the flavors of the food.
 
Flighty shook his head and perched himself back on John's shoulder, giving him a light peck.
 
Chuckling softly, John looked at him. "Back to trying to kill me, then?" he asked. Pain was something he was used to. It was part of his job, after all, but the sharp jabbing of the sparrow's hard beak definitely hurt. He doubted that Flighty was really trying to kill him, but damn if the little guy wasn't going to leave bruises. He was pretty sure that the ones from earlier had already formed.
 
Flighty simply tweeted at him, glad that Eliza wasn't there to translate. She might have punished him for his potty mouth.
 
With a contented sigh, John finished off the plate. If he wasn't careful, he could gain some weight here, especially with food like that. He'd have to go out and exercise sometime soon, for sure. Since he'd been a gangly teenager since he was nineteen, he took pride in the muscles of his form and liked to keep them maintained. High fitness was definitely a bonus for his job, too. "Think we should go check on Eliza again?"
 
The bird chirped and flew up to the room. He was worried about Eliza. She didn't like sitting still for too long.
 
John followed, a bit concerned. It didn't take this long to wash up, did it? Of course, her standard of clean could be very different from his. Still, checking on her would be wise. Knocking on the door, he called her name. "Eliza?"
 
"It's open!" Eliza's voice called out. Flighty narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Normally there would be more noise.
 
He was tense normally, but the bird's reaction was almost that of suspicion. Deciding he'd better be prepared for anything anyways, John pushed the door open.
 
Eliza looked up. She looked like she was bending in a circle as her good leg was right next to her head, her other leg up in the air. "Oh hi! I decided to stretch a bit and do some yoga!" The bird flew over to her and started to chirp about how she would never heal if she did stunts like this. She waved him off. She was proud of her flexibility and agility and she had to keep herself flexible even when injured.
 
John sighed softly, rubbing his brow. "Don't stretch the injured one. At all. Might break the splint." The makeshift splint he'd used-a stick-might break if she did. Might rip the bandages, might hurt her worse, all kinds of nasty things. He didn't have any problems with the stretching itself, as long as she was being smart about it. Negating that line of thought, he looked at her and checked out her positioning. "How do you do that?" he asked, unable to imagine himself getting his leg up to his chest, let alone his face.
 
"Can't everybody do this?" Eliza asked, moving to a different, equally as crazy position. She was careful to mind her leg as she did this.
 
"Well, the way I see it, there's four physical attributes." John crossed his arms and furrowed his brows, face adopting a more thoughtful expression. "Speed, strength, agility, and flexibility. People usually only have two or three." He looked at her, then nodded. She seemed to have the last three. He, on the other hand, had the first two.
 
"Huh. You learn something new every day." She said, bringing her leg to rest behind her head. She kept her injured leg straight throughout this whole thing.
 
"Pretty sure we've slept the day away." John uncrossed his arms, then went over to the bed and carefully sat down, making sure to sit far enough away that he didn't get kicked or something. "Want me to bring you something?" he asked, looking at her. Her foot is behind her head? That...had to be painful. Right? Legs weren't supposed to bend that way. Then again, maybe they were and he wasn't using them to their full potential.
 
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