The Cracked Portrait

○Corvin's House○

Corvin dropped his bag off at the door right onto the hardwood floor. He shed off his vest and unbuttoned his white collared shirt slightly. He looked up to see Oliver watching him from the couch. Oliver was his assistant, one that happened to live with him that is. Some even go as far as to call him his ward.

He nodded his head at the boy in greeting. Oliver smiled at Corvin and then looked at him with his big puppy dog eyes.

Corvin sighed, he knew what the boy wanted, details on the case. Believe it or not, Corvin had a heart and didn't permit Oliver on the case since he thought the boy should keep his childhood intact as much as he could, and dealing with serial killers wasn't a very teenage thing to deal with. Corvin rolled his eyes but obliged nonetheless, "Another murder in Primrose Hill, multiple stab wounds, still not much evidence in the case."

Oliver simply nodded his head and seemed to be in deep thought. Corvin smiled playfully at the boy for playing detective right here and now. Reminded him of himself at his age. Corvin dropped his smile to a frown.

Corvin walked up to the couch and ruffled the boy's hair, "Don't worry about it, we've got it handled."

Oliver swatted the older man's hands away. Oliver was actually the one who convinced Corvin to invite Alastor on this case, Corvin absolutely despised the idea but he eventually got tired of the boy's constant convincing and of him bringing it up.

He furrowed his brows when he saw Oliver's eyes widen and a concerned look overshadow his facial features suddenly, "Corvin! Your arm!"

Corvin followed his eyes to his upper arm and upon seeing the red liquid seeping through his white shirt let a few curse words fly from underneath his breath. He quickly rolled his shirt up further to show his seeped-through bandaged arm. Oliver swiftly got up from the couch to grab the safety kit that they kept in the kitchen.

Corvin peeled the bandage off his arm and put it on the coffee table. Oliver brought the safety kit back and Corvin took the bandages out from it. Oliver watched the whole procedure.

"What happened, why is your arm all cut up?" Corvin looked back at the slender boy with narrowed eyes.

"Something just happened in the workshop, nothing to get all worked up about." Oliver pursed his lips he thought they were more to the story than just that but he knew Corvin long enough to know to just drop it.

"Why did you say anything, what if you need stitches, it seems to be bleeding heavily."

Corvin glared at the boy once again, "It doesn't need stitches."

Oliver playfully threw his hands in the air in surrender.

Corvin picked up his past bloody bandage and threw it in the garbage. He walked over to his room to get a new clean shirt from his dresser. He came back out with a simple t-shirt on and his white, bloody shirt in his hands.

"How are you gonna get the blood out?" Oliver's eyes peered at the shirt, swallowing at how much blood actually got on the shirt.

"I'm gonna get a bar of soap and scrub it by hand in the sink," Corvin replied nonchalantly like it was no big deal.

Oliver nodded and then furrowed his brow, "How do you know that?"

Corvin stopped where we were standing for a second and then peered behind his shoulder, "When your jobs pertain to bloody victims and murders you tend how to get blood out of things."

Oliver nodded his head but then frowned, "Wait, Corvin are we sure you're not the murder." He stared at Corvin for a couple of minutes until he let out a hearty laugh.

While still laughing Oliver stated, "Corvin you should have seen your face when you actually thought I suspected you, of course, I don't, you are the lead person in this case, I'm not stupid."

Corvin rolled his eyes and then smiled at the boy, "Don't be stupid, Oliver. Now, let me get this blood out before it permanently stains my shirt forever."