Eleventh hour

Rest did the soul good. Or so they kept telling him. Rest and recover before going back to work. It caused him to be restless and grumpy, but he did his best to handle it. The occasional drop by of Vesper to bring him food and what not helped a lot too. Stretched out across the thin furs he called a bed, his head lifted and ears turned when Oleander called from the doorway.

"Long as it won't kill me," Wilder muses back, a half-smile on his charcoal lips as he looks to the small healer. "Come in. I won't bite," he continues to lay on the furs, too comfortable to get up and be a good host. "Ya don't look so great yerself," the male comments as Oleander comes in.

"Wilder"