The preternatural and the occult often caused strange occurrences. Rupert actually liked it when it popped up now and again. It broke through the monotony of the day, even if he would fervently deny any enjoyment of it. It would be a small acknowledgement of enjoyment out of the life the old bastard had made him live. Not as if he did not already live in his head, after all. There was one point where he grabbed a bottle of alcohol, even as he reached he wasn't sure if he would pour it on the wound or take a swig, and his fingers stuck to the glass. Kelly Asher still had a bit of kick to her, which he supposed was a good sign. He had only met the Winter Knight on a handful of occasions, and they had always been brief, and never this latest version. The soft clink of metal as he utilized the tools and removed the bullet was punctuated by cracking ice. Luckily, it dissipated soon enough. 

He worked his jaw and shook his hands, getting the feeling back in them so he didn't feel pins and needles in his extremities. He reminded himself the Knight owed him. He was not accustomed to garnering charity nor giving it. When she awoke he would demand payment, his only question was what. 

Rupert's thoughts were interrupted when the TV began to sputter and come to life without a power source. That happened very rarely, he thought. The room's want light was monopolized in the corner, shadows dancing as the image faded in and out, until Rupert saw the following news. He was curious, despite himself. Whatever power was showing this to him, he didn't like the anonymity. Then his eyes widened, and the word came to his mind before he could even conceptualize it. As if the heavens themselves had planted it there, lurking in the depths of his mind, bursting forth just as he realized what it was. 

[i]Dragon[/i]. 

Immediately he felt a pressure on the left side of his head, a stabbing pain and his body contorting. His right hand clutched his left arm, and he grit his teeth as he violently shuddered. His vision was filled with white fire, and he blinked it away as he crashed into the wall deliberately. Sir Aldus Grey had seized him, demanding to be let loose like a lion. The words rang in his mind. [i]DRACA! WURM! SATAN! SERPENT OF FIRE![/i] Rupert groaned in defiance, bloodshot eyes opening to find focus. "I'm in control... tonight...old man..." He whispered acidly, too preoccupied to rhyme. He jerked his body against the wall again, and like a bubble of gas in one's stomach, eventually the pain and force subsided, and Rupert placed his hand against the wall to keep himself upright, gasping for air. 

The knocking came just there. 

Brilliant, he thought. He was disheveled at the best of times, but at the moment, if one passed him on the street they would think a stabbing from him was not a possibility, but an inevitability. He sucked in a mighty breathe, and pushed himself upright, stumbling to his bedside and sliding his hand under his mattress. He fished out the large, runic dagger he kept hidden under there. He had already decided to answer it. There were too many open questions tonight for him to not solve the great 'mystery visitor' he thought sardonically. He unlocked the door slowly, and gingerly twisted the door handle, looking at the newcomer like a starving wolf. 

"Hello?"