The x-rays had hurt, in Duke's opinion, almost as much as the original injury had, and the painkillers they'd given him were doing nothing to help the tanking of his mood as the adrenaline he'd been running on since -- he didn't even know by now -- had drained out of his system.

He wriggled out of Lucifer's arms the moment it was safe, letting out a faintly disgruntled noise, his arm tucked into an ugly beige sling.

"Think I need a drink this time."

Not on those painkillers he didn't.