Henry didn't much care to wait around for the new girl. But she was persistent. Even "offering" to come out and patch him up at his place. Odds are he'd be getting a knock on his door one way or the other though and he didn't fancy being woken up at the crack of dawn or something after she dug up his address on her own or something. With some reluctance, the man told her where he lived as he climbed up into the driver's seat of his pickup. "303 chestnut lane." The man grunted out as he tossed the now mostly empty bottle of whiskey into the passenger seat with his gun and bloody knife. "Don't come around past twelve and interrupt honeymooners either!" Henry was sure to be a lot clearer with this instruction, shouting out the window of his truck as he pulled off, leaving Davis to pick up and go in her own time. He wasn't crazy about the new girl now having a bead on where he lived. Henry only wanted to be left alone after all this mess. But stitching himself up would definitely be a pain in the ass so at least he wouldn't have to worry about that.<br/><br/><br/>Booze kept the edge off his cuts well enough that he could focus on driving and Henry made it back to his little house on the top of a small grassy hill. It was surrounded on all sides by thick forest and one had to take a long and winding gravel road to get there. It was a drive Henry had learned to do with his eyes closed but he imagined the city girl might have some trouble. Perhaps she wouldn't make it after all. In any event, Henry turned on the porch lights to his cozy little cabin so she might find the place if she did manage to get this far. He then fumbled his keys out of his pocket and stepped inside.<br/><br/><br/>It had only been eleven days since Mary had been killed and already the home was noticeably lacking a woman's touch. Henry pulled off his jacket, wincing as his wounds screamed out from the exertion. Tossing his jacket onto the living room couch it would cover a small pile of empty liquor bottles that had steadily accumulated since he'd buried his wife. Peeling off his ruined shirt, Henry tossed it on top of an overfilled garbage can in the kitchen just a few feet away where it would mostly cover up the mountain of takeout boxes that accounted for the six or so meals the man had eaten in the past week. The majority of his diet now mainly consisted of liquor and coffee, much like it was while he was still a rookie cop. Only Mary had ever been able to put an end to those bad habits of his.<br/><br/><br/>Despite Henry's self neglect, he didn't look like he was entirely wasting away just yet. His body was still hard and strong enough to kick a little ass. And his mind wasn't nearly as addled by the whiskey as he might have liked. Stepping out of his boots on the way to the bathroom and peeling off the rest of his blood soiled clothing to deposit in the nearby hamper, Henry took the time to clean himself up with a quick shower, mostly to flush his wounds. His blood was thin and ran freely from those jagged gashes along his ribs. Henry couldn't rightly tell if he was light headed from the booze alone or partly because of the blood loss. But it didn't really matter. Not much of anything did anymore now that his wife's killer was dead. All that was really left to do now was just kick back and wait to join them.<br/><br/><br/>Henry Killeen the shower, dried himself off, threw on a breezy pair of sweatpants and grabbed himself a beer from the fridge in his kitchen before Davis had a chance to come around. A clean towel was draped over his chest to soak up any bleeding and he was just settling into his recliner to pass out before the glow of his big screen when the ring of his doorbell reminded him that he should be expecting company. With a grumble, Henry placed his beer down and took the bloody black towel off his chest as he realized he likely wouldn't be putting his injuries off until tomorrow now. And when he opened his front door to see the sheriff standing before him, Henry wore the same sort of blase expression of tired annoyance that he showed for the horrible scene from earlier. "Hmph. Looks like ya made it. Road up give ya much trouble, newbie?" He asked as he let her in, not much caring one way or the other for what the answer might be. Henry was tired, hurt and still a little angry. But few who knew him would be able to distinguish his current mood from his usual abrasive demeanor.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>