Perhaps leaving in a huff had not been one of his most tactically sound decisions, but he needed the air, needed the distance, to cool the heat of his nerves, further jangled by his deep seated anger and Lam pushing it away, dismissing it. Kysis took a deep breath outside of the door, trying to center himself, gain his balance. He had stood too quickly. His stitches were well enough they had not been further pulled, but if he continued storming out of places, that would not likely remain true.
Now that he was out of there, and in such a hasty fashion, he could not just stand there, or for that matter, just go back inside. He had never been the type to apologize, less so when he believed himself to be right-- which he was. Kysis turned his gaze on the stairs. As he suspected, they seemed to go on for an eternity, a dark, dangerous menace just waiting for him to attempt it alone.
He had survived worse to escape his captors. This was trivial.
Kysis leaned carefully against his wall, making sure his weight was firmly between his shoulder and that solid surface. Slowly, he started down the steps, only stretching down his left food, opposite from his injury. It was an excruciating process, but one he was glad he was making now rather than in the middle of the night when there were no lights and no one awake to hear if he took a tumble. Yes, the circumstance of his sudden descent were less than savory, but he was determined to go.
Once safely down the stairs, he was again at a severe loss for what he should do. Part of him said that he should just go back up the stairs, back into the room, and give some form of apology for being stubborn. The indignant part told him to find something to occupy him down here. There was that full bandaging kit Lam had brought down, and he had yet to put the soft linens over his stitches. The salve was up the stairs...
Kysis went immediately into the kitchen, not a thought passing through his mind about the bareness of his chest or the profusion of scarring. "Αλεξανδρή, όπου οι επίδεσμοι?" Immediately, Alex jumped to, hurrying to get the bag of supplies. Kysis thanked him, taking the bag. He was heading back into the main room when he heard the door up the stairs open, and he let a shaky breath out. His temper had receded, leaving him feeling cold, trembling, though he attempted to cover it to the best of his ability. Today had been entirely too much, his senses and mind assaulted from all sides. Kysis leaned against the closest wall, taking a moment to rest, knowing that soon, he would likely have to explain himself, or at least divert the topic until later, both of which sounded more mentally exhausting than he was certain he could deal with.
((I doubt you want to continue this, but I really felt like writing as Kysis again, so if you ignore this, cool, if you don't, cool. Don't feel obligated))
