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His face was screaming with pain. Kavinsky hadn't felt like that in months, in years probably. It was a different sort of pain to having his nose broken, though no less distracting. Driving home had been miserable.
His face wasn't the only point of pain. He'd only let himself have the one fight, because he'd come out of it rough and rattled and incapable. What was he supposed to do but take himself home? He was useless to another opponent after that. Kavinsky knew he'd done this to himself, he'd asked for this. Poke the bear enough, and this was what you got.
He parked in the garage and hauled himself out of the car and into the house. The lights were off in the front room, but he could see one on in Newt's study, so he headed there first.
His face wasn't the only point of pain. He'd only let himself have the one fight, because he'd come out of it rough and rattled and incapable. What was he supposed to do but take himself home? He was useless to another opponent after that. Kavinsky knew he'd done this to himself, he'd asked for this. Poke the bear enough, and this was what you got.
He parked in the garage and hauled himself out of the car and into the house. The lights were off in the front room, but he could see one on in Newt's study, so he headed there first.
