Magenta cast a wary glance at her brother. He was struggling to set the breakfast table. He was moving slowly, only carrying a few dishes at a time. He held his right hand close to his waist, the fingers heavy and swollen with new splints. Frank had reset the bones and prepared the new splints that morning. Magenta had stood by Riff Raff as their master administered the proper first aid. There had been insurmountable tension in the room. Magenta caught Frank's gaze flicking to the cigarette burn on Riff Raff's chest. She had removed the bandage earlier to allow the skin to breath, and part of her also wanted Frank to see the damage he had done to her beloved brother.
"Let me help," she murmured, reaching to take a glass away from him. Riff Raff's lip curled in a snarl. "I've got it," he hissed, batting her away with his injured hand. He winced once from pain then his expression smoothed. Magenta's arms dropped to her sides. Riff Raff was struggling to keep his face neutral. She could see the anger smouldering in his eyes. Then her tender glance was directed to the purple bruise that had cropped up on his cheek. Apparently it had come from the handle of the whip Frank had used to apply the beating. He had pistol-whipped Riff Raff with the solid wood handle. Magenta had also gathered from Riff Raff's drunken rambling that the broken fingers had been from Frank stomping on each digit with his boots.
Riff Raff was furious on the inside. He hated his sister's pity for him. He hated that Frank would face no consequence for his unwarranted violence. He hated the inconvenience of broken fingers. He hated the pain he was in. He looked up to see Magenta's concern. Sighing to himself, he put the glass down. He held out a hand to her. Their fingertips met then their wrists and then forearms and elbows. Suddenly Magenta crushed her body against his, claiming him in a fierce kiss. "I love you," she muttered, feeling her brother's heart beat accelerate. "I love you too," he murmured against her neck, inhaling her scent and her warmth.
Something clattered outside the dining room. Riff Raff jerked away in surprise, but Magenta clung to him for a moment longer, laying a hot kiss on his lips. Colombia burst into the dining room, yawning exaggeratedly. "Wooow I'm starving!" she proclaimed, taking a seat. "What's for breakfast?"
"French toast," Magenta muttered, stalking out of the room and to the kitchen. "The master insisted."
"Yumm!" Colombia reached for a pitcher of orange juice. Riff Raff went to join his sister but was stopped by a yelp from Colombia. "Riff!" She shouted, "What happened to your fingers?"
A muscle twitched in Riff Raff's jaw. "The master..." he said, trailing off. He didn't need to say more. Colombia's face fell and she slumped in her chair. "Oh."
Riff Raff left. There was nothing left to say, nor did he wish to continue interaction. What he really wanted was to sink into a deep sleep with no dreams. No 'absolute pleasure', no 'sins of the flesh'. He just wanted mind-numbing oblivion. Riff Raff picked up a bottle of wine from a cabinet in the kitchen. Ignoring a quizzical look from Magenta, he uncorked it and took a swig straight from the bottle. The alcohol poured down his throat, warming his throat and chest.
Half a bottle later, Riff Raff's head was spinning. He felt as if he was going to pass out.