"How many of you want breakfast?" Evan asked when Vic and the two angels joined him in the kitchen the next morning. He looked Vic over, as much as he could see of him, because the man was in the same jeans and sweatshirt he'd been wearing since he arrived. "Off with the shirt so I can check you out," he ordered.
"Do you want an answer to your question? If so, I wouldn't turn down whatever you're cooking," Dom told Evan.
"Same here," Paddy agreed. "We don't need food, but we sure do like it when we're in this form and on a job. It's… I guess you could say, one of the perks of being on earth."
"First things first." Evan waited for Vic to do as he'd asked then expertly ran his hands over Vic's torso, watching his face the whole time.
"I'm fine. See," Vic said, gritting his teeth when Evan not too gently prodded his ribs.
"Fine? No. Better? Yes. The bruising has diminished nicely." Evan chuckled. "You don't look like you went several rounds with King Kong. Now put the shirt back on and let me check your knee. You're still hobbling."
"No fucking way am I taking off my pants in front of an audience."
"We can leave," Paddy told him, smirking.
Evan shook his head. "Just sit down. I can do it through your jeans."
Vic did, moving his leg while Evan gently probed his knee.
"I have a knee brace," Evan said, "which I should have given you yesterday. I'll get it after breakfast. Since we're going to be out and about, it will help you move without too much pain."
"Thanks," Vic replied, reaching for the bottle of pills sitting on the table. He popped two of them, dry, before asking, "What's for breakfast? I can help."
"You can stay right where you are. I think I can handle scrambled eggs and sausage by myself. Dom, if you'd get the coffee going, assuming angels know how to brew a decent pot of java. Paddy, silverware is in that drawer"—he pointed—"and plates and cups are in the cupboard. We'll use the dining room table."
Soon everything was ready and the four men were digging in. As they ate, Evan kept glancing at Vic, until the detective said with a bit of asperity, "I'm fine. Honest."
Wasn't why I was looking at you. Evan realized that was true. Since Vic's declaration the previous evening, he was seeing him in a slightly different light. Yes, he still looked rough. Even more so since he hadn't shaved, but he was definitely appealing in a very macho way. Sort of like… He chuckled to himself, remembering his comment about Sam Spade. Give him a battered fedora and he'd fit the part to a 'T'.
"I know you are," Evan replied to Vic's words. "Or at least mobile enough, once I give you the brace, so that we can do… whatever comes next."
"Going to my office. I need to trace that phone number."
"If it isn't from a throwaway."
Vic nodded. "Let's hope not. When I find out who it belongs to, then I make a decision on what to do about it."