Harlow ended up coming home about a half hour early, parking her BMW in the driveway. She was tired and ready to go to sleep, in no mood to deal with Ian. She hopped out of her car and locked it, barely keeping herself from stripping the heels off. She unlocked her door and let herself in, shutting it behind her with a yawn. "Boys, I'm home." She called vaguely, walking lightly to the living room and dumping her bag and keys on the counter. She glanced over at the living room and blinked a few times. Ian looked like a puppy who was showing her his gift, which was... Mark tied up on the floor looking approximately like he had been hit with a bag of potatoes. She scurried over, giving Ian a bewildered look. "Uhm, why is he tied up?" She asked, too tired and frustrated to deal with this. She was on her knees by Mark's side in a moment, quickly working at the knots holding his arms together, yanking the gag out of his mouth quickly. "I'm so sorry, Mark, I didn't think..." She started softly, glancing up to see Ian with a handgun in his left. She scoffed and went right back to untying him, while Ian looked like he had been smacked. I "Seriously? You're untying him? He tried to ATTACK me, Harlow! I feared for my life!" He exclaimed, looking and sounding about like a whiny toddler.

He leaned forward so she could help better. He stretched his jaw, mildly wincing. He looked up. "It's okay." His voice was taut. He leaned back when she freed him. He pulled the gag off. He looked down at his leg subtly, a slight pool of blood, hidden beheath it. He looked up, giving the "what the hell are you saying" look being accused of attacking. ..He'd done no such thing.

Hatlow shot Ian a skeptical look and glanced at Mark's leg, only becoming more infuriated when she saw the pool of blood. "No, that's it. Get out. Just get out." She hissed, standing and shooing the man off. He made a variety of reluctant noises but eventually, he did leave. Harlow locked the door behind him and rolled her eyes, tossing her gloves on the counter and stalking back to Mark's side. "What happened? What did he hurt you with?" She asked anxiously, taking in his expression as she kneeled down beside him again. The doorbell rang and she gave a huff, grabbing one of her heels and throwing it star-style at the door. It slammed against it with a threatening noise. "Fuck off!" She yelled, turning back to his leg as if nothing had happened.

He looked calm, tired. He watched her furiously tell Ian off. He waited quitely where he was, sitting up. He looked up, his face twitched slightly. "It's fine, I'm okay." He flinched as she turned away again, she was mildly frightening. He glanced up and down timidly as she turned back. "Heee.. shot me." He gestured-ish to his thigh.

"No, you're not. You're bleeding." Harlow corrected, sighing as she looked at his leg. She stood again and walked off to one of her kitchen cabinets, snatching a first aid kit out of one and a bottle of whiskey out of another. "We're gonna do some home-hospitalization." She huffed, kneeling beside him again and offering him the bottle of whiskey. "You're gonna want some of that. I don't know if you drink, but now might be a good time to start." She nodded, promptly flicking a pocket knife out of god knows where and reaching for his leg. "I'm gonna cut your pant leg, okay? So don't jump or make any sudden movements." She nodded, promptly cutting the pant leg off above the wound with surprising accuracy and speed. She made a slightly dismayed noise as she looked at the wound. "Well, it's a through and through. So I don't have to pull a bullet out of your leg." She muttered, opening her first aid kit and grabbing a bottle of sterilizing alcohol and prep pads.

He looked mildly concerned, home-hospitalization really just felt like another word for torture. "I don't drink, in fact." He took it anyway, putting it by his side. He jumped a little at the flicking of her knife. "Oh jesus Christ." He mumbled, watching her hand swiftly open a flap in his pants. He winced, looking at it. No wonder it hurt. He shifted in his seat. "Yknow I'm- I'm just fine. There's no need for all- all of that." He gestured to her first aid kit, his voice giving a more panicked tone. "Just- just wrap a bandage on it? Yeah? I'll be right as rain soon enough."

Harlow gave Mark a flat look. "Love, I've got to sterilize it or it'll get infected. Then you won't have a leg. Its gonna burn for all of five seconds, then I can wrap it in a bandage. You're a big boy, you can do it." She huffed, promptly pouring a little bit of alcohol on his leg. Absolutely no warning. She was quick about it, though. She swiped her alcohol prep pads over both sides of the wounds and she was wrapping it in a clean white bandage withing seconds. For someone who killed people for a living, she had quite the skilled hand when it came to this. She tied the bandage off lightly and gave him an apologetic look. "Im sorry. You okay?" She asked lightly, fully aware he was probably going to hate her for a bit.

"I don't- particularly care-" he sank back, he wasn't physically stopping her but. His eyes went a little dark as the alcohol bit into him. He took in a slight gasp afterward. He crossed his arms and looked away, he shut is eyes and leaned back, he had clenched fists and a clamped jaw. White knuckling it regretfully. He dropped them and looked over at her, a mild expression on his face. "It was better than last time." He tilted his head in a shrug, without moving his shoulders. He rolled his shoulder back, amazingly it was still where it was supposed to be.

"Well, that's good. I'm assuming you want to sit here for a second?" Harlow asked, but it was more of a firm suggestion. She poured a few pills into her hand and then offered them to him. Two painkillers, one antibiotic. "Take these." She nodded, standing and walking to her fridge to get a bottle of water. She walked back and settled down beside him again, placing the water bottle at his side.

He still felt dizzy as all get out, his leg throbbing so much that he wanted push away from it. But it also hurt more if he moved it. He took the pills, staring for a minute. His head had started to hurt as well, he was more or less afraid to stand up. He took the water, murmured a thank you, and took the pills. He put the water down, sitting up a little straighter. He stayed quiet for a minute. "..I was just trying to get a poptart." His voice was muffled and his expression would remind anyone of a sad toddler.