[center][h3][b][color=a187be]Lorenzo of Windor[/color][/b][/h3][/center][hr]
There was a problem presented to Lorenzo. How was he going to get to the door? He was in this situation a few times before, and this was certainly not the last time. Thankfully, this time around, he had been prepared. Lorenzo looked over at the good three feet of cord attached to the bottom of his chair legs, tied securely. A decently-loud whistle was enough to get Martyrdom's attention as the hound grabbed onto the rope with his teeth and pulled the man's chair to the door. It was a bit tough, but less tough than it should have been considering Lorenzo's... condition. He'd lost a bit of weight recently, not from his leg loss, but from the depression that followed preventing him from feeling like he needed to eat. He always did at the end of the day to keep his mother from worrying, but he hardly ate much else. Regardless, his diet was steadily returning to normal.

Lorenzo opened the door to his cottage and was greeted by the face of a new man. One he'd never met before. [color=a187be]"... hello, sir."[/color] Funnily enough, this was the first person Lorenzo had met since the accident. Others came by, but his mother always pushed them away as to not disturb his healing. A bit of a shame, but she was doing what was best for him and his art, he supposed. Not that the multiple paintings in the room meant much to him, they were all hideous.