[Oh, Zelos can just feel the disapproval and hate emanating from Kratos. It's what he's used to, so of course he can recognize it easily in the way the man clams up and starts running final checks. Whatever, really. At least Zelos already feels physically better--less on the brink of death and more exhausted and in pain, and it's getting easier to think and speak now--so everything else should be fine.

Alright, then. Breathing heavily, Zelos braces himself before he once again tries to get up, pushing against Kratos to try and do so. It hurts. He grunts and uses the hand he still has on Kratos' arm to pull himself again. He won't let Kratos fret anymore. Fuck you, bitch seraph. He's done being weak.] "Like what I think crashing a Rheaird feels like. I got fucking stabbed, Kratos."

[He's trembling a little, reality crashing down on him. Goddess, he almost died. Zelos doesn't really know why he's being such a dick about it, but he is aware that he needs to cut that shit out if he wants assistance for the next few steps in hiding the evidence. The night is still young, so he has time, but he doesn't want to risk it by being sloppy in his exhaustion. So he pushes all that to the back of his mind and bites his tongue as he meets Kratos' eyes.]

"Okay, we need to plan this out." [Zelos purses his lips for a moment, uncomfortable, but eventually grins and pushes on, playing up the charms even if he knows they won't work.] "I need a change of clothes and to not smell like blood and death. Hate to intrude here, K Dude, but do you have any safe house I can at least prepare in before I finally go back to my sweet, lovely little friends?"