"My wounds?" Conager asked, playing confused, "These are nothing. I'm fine."<br/><br/>He sat up against the couch, wincing as he did so and wishing Sirius hadn't seen him. "Well... He's done worse." He corrected himself after being caught.<br/><br/>It looked as though there was no choice - he had to succumb to the aid of someone else. Even with it not being the worst situation on the table, he still despised the fact that he could just head home and take care of things himself. He always had. Since when did anyone care what happened to him? But his mind suddenly set off a light in that same moment - what if Sirius did care? What if - by the narrowest chance - he had been thinking of Conager the way Conager thought of him? But looking up, he remembered it was just a fantasy in his mind, considering the near scowl he seemed to be staring down.<br/><br/>His burst of chuckles for the nurse disturbed his still position, bending forward between his legs to squeeze at his ribs, which only made them hurt worse. There was no relief, save for the plush, memory foam mattress that awaited him at home. At least he could sleep through the pain. His thoughts wandered to the resident drug dealer who lurked their halls. He was an amateur sure, but if he had the supplies, people could buy. A Vicodin or Oxycontin would be appreciated right now. But the thought was quickly removed in the firm decision to never make those kinds of choices. He was already a trouble maker, and he didn't want to tempt the ways of his habits and risk the affects of becoming an addict of any sort. One thing always leads to another in 'kids' his age.<br/><br/>He stopped and took in the thought of removing his shirt here. It was just one guy, and much to his dismay, nothing would come of it. So without much more thought, he slowly stood, finally removing his hand from his side and peeled away his vest. He began by pushing his shirt up his stomach, nearly revealing the smooth texture of his stomach before letting it go and simply pulling it up, a bit awkwardly. His arms got caught a little, leaving him standing with a pair of 'sexy' pants and a shirt trapping his arms up high in line with his neck. All skin between his shoulders and hips.<br/><br/>It finally released his arm, pulling it lazily over his head, which ruffled his hair a bit with the lack of product. It flitted to the cushion as he dropped it, lifting his arm in expectation before twisting enough to look behind him.<br/><br/>"Soo... Should I sit, or stand or what? How do you want me?"