new foundations, lightly worn

"So why’re you here?" Tommy says, studiously not looking at Wilbur. "You too maimed to go do big man shit?"Wilbur, sprawled against one of Tommy's chests - it's fine, he's not got much important in there anyway - with a roll of fresh bandages in hand like he was planning on doing something with them, gives a laugh that's half a wheeze, like he's too tired to muster up much else. "That's not," he says, "what maiming is, y'know. I'll be fine." Tommy can hear him shifting his weight, the rustling of fabric on fabric, the faint hiss he sucks in through his teeth when he's in more pain than he wants to make a mockery of. Tommy doesn't want to look, he said he wasn't going to look, he doesn't care - and yet he finds himself glancing over his shoulder.

Wilbur needs somewhere safe to change the bandages on his arm. For some reason, he comes to Tommy's house.