Lindsay kisses him back, more desperate than he'd care to admit. "I'm not under the impression that it's a good idea. I just — do." 

"I'm too grateful that you love me to feel comfortable complaining about your bad taste."

"You, on the other hand, are the best choice I have ever made." 

"You have terrible," forehead kiss, "terrible," kiss on one cheek, "terrible," kiss on other cheek, "terrible taste."

"I love you," a kiss on Leo's cheek, and then the other, "I love you whether I have bad taste or not — and Ash might be a bad decision but you aren't, you have never made my life anything but better —" 

"I'm going to do my best to keep you safe from marauding cultists of Cybele or supporters of the Emperor or opium eaters."

"You're so good." 

This is the kind of declaration that calls for kissing. 

Eventually Leo has to go home and Lindsay is alone in an empty house.

So he is. 

He reads. He writes, a handful of letters he'll send and a handful of letters he'll burn. He curls up in a bed too big for one and tries to sleep. 

"Fuck."

— Lindsay jumps. 

"Do you need —"

He's limping and breathing heavily and his pants are caked with blood.

"I," gasp, "liked this pair."

Now is not the time. 

Lindsay helps Ash to a chair, strips the pants off. "What happened." 

"Would you," gasp, "buy dueling?"

"Not now that you asked that I wouldn't. Shot, then?" 

"Yes." Whimper. "Do you know how to treat bullet wounds?"

"I've never had to do it before but I looked up how after an — incident, with Stephen." Is it still bleeding? 

It has stopped bleeding.

"Stephen lives-- ah-- an interesting life."

If it isn't bleeding then clearly it didn't hit a major artery and the risk of infection from trying to dig the bullet out is worse than the risks of leaving it in. Lindsay looks for something to use as a bandage. "There were no actual bullets involved, to clarify." 

"Mine is," gasp, "apparently more interesting."

"Apparently." He cleans out the wound as well as he can and bandages it up. "You should see a real doctor, if you can." 

"Doctors mostly just kill you."

His body language says: submissive submissive yours hurt me. 

...he can do that. 

"Still, someone who actually has training is better than not," he says casually, and wraps a hand around Ash's throat. 

He tosses his head back and moans and says, "I prefer it when you torture me for no benefit other than your own gratification."

Well. That's difficult to resist. 

Lindsay squeezes Ash's throat.