Dave had shut his journal and all but tossed it onto the table next to his bed, doing his best not to disturb Dirk, who was curled up asleep with his arm slung across Dave's waist. But oh, he was so mad he could just about punch Bro. It had rankled from the moment he realized Bro wasn't going to pop in and say hi, but finding out that Bro hadn't even come on official business? It would have been one thing if Dumbledore had called Bro back or something, but Bro came all the way back to Scotland to pick a fight, and he wouldn't even tell Dave?

And who was Bro kidding, Dave knew if he'd come back pissed that meant someone was either dead or bleeding. Bro had come back to kick someone's ass, and if he was pissed enough to drag Dirk all the way to Scotland, then he was sure as fuck gonna succeed. Or maybe that was Dave having too much faith in Bro.

It just...hurt, to think that that fight had been more important than him.

He looked up when he heard the huge doors to the hospital wing creak open. What he was definitely not expecting was for Bro to appear with half of his face completely blanched out to almost an unearthly white in unnatural splotches. Dave's anger faded, and he snorted.

"No wonder you didn't wanna show your face, Jacko, is that the first symptoms of flesh-eating bacteria or are you just happy to see me?" He kept his voice down because Dirk was asleep.