"Like I'd let you leave like that," Malik said smartly and got to his feet suddenly feeling bone tired. "You can sleep on the couch," and he helped the syrian stand. He'd lost a good amount of blood and was weak, Malik realized the Vicodin might have been a bad choice. There was less blood in Altair's blood stream to dilute the effects of the medication, no wonder he was so stoned. Altair sank onto the couch when Malik let him go and he went to get some spare blankets and pillows. Altair wasn't exactly the first person to crash on his couch and he doubted he'd be the last. Altair was practically asleep anyways as Malik shoved the bedding at him and he made something like a nest on the couch. He was asleep in seconds.

Malik looked over at the table where the gun and knife were. He walked over to them and picked up the gun and ejected the clip, five shots had been fired and obviously the knife had been used. He clicked on the safety (fuck it had been off this entire time?!) and put the clip, the gun and the knife in the bloodied robes of Altair's costume and bundled it up before depositing it next to the couch. He looked down at Altair before deciding to put the bottle of Vicodin on the coffee table as well before leaving and going back into his room, locking the door as he did so and got ready for bed. The clock said it was fifteen minutes to three so no wonder he was exhausted. He fell into bed trying to get the image of Altair's peacefully sleeping face off his mind. It was very, very, hard.