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“Hey, Hank,” Sgt. Wu settled onto the edge of Hank's desk and looked pointedly over to Nick. “He seem different today?”
Hank glanced over to where Nick was pecking at his keyboard with his left hand, his right tucked into his jacket. “He's trying to pretend he didn't get banged up over the weekend,” Hank explained. “You know how stubborn he is.”
“Doing what?” Wu asked, eyebrows raised. Hank snorted—no way he could explain Nick got thrown into a tree chasing down the wesen that might have inspired Grendl from Beowulf.
“I don't know, man, he's got some weird hobbies. Remember when he kept trying to bring that French press in to make his own coffee instead of getting it from the pot like the rest of us.”
“Hey!” Nick raised his head, jabbing a pen in Hank's direction. “That was a gift, and you liked it, too.”
“What's wrong with your arm?” Wu called.
“Nothing's wrong.” Nick turned back to his work and pointedly used his right hand to pull his keyboard closer. “It's just cold in here.”
Wu snorted, grabbed the stapler off Hank's desk, and chucked it at Nick. “Head's up!”
Nick dodged to the side with a barely-concealed yelp, letting the stapler hit the floor just in front of Officer Hoskins who was delivering some paperwork to another detective. The officer hesitated for a moment, then picked up the stapler and gingerly offered it to Nick.
“Thanks,” Nick took it—with his left hand, Hank noticed—and tossed it back at Wu.
“Okay,” Hank pushed away from his chair. “That's enough. Raise your arm, Nick.”
Nick's eyebrows went up, but he raised his right hand to shoulder height, like he was in some lame TV court movie being sworn in.
“Not like that. Come on, all the way.” Hank folded his arms and stared down at his partner. Nick hesitated, looked at his hand, then tried to raise it a little higher. He flinched and let his hand drop, swiveling his chair away from Hank to focus on his computer.
“Come on, man, we have work to do,” Nick complained. Still typing with his left hand while his right was wrapped around his ribcage.”
“Wu?” Hank jerked his head toward Nick and the sergeant happily tugged Nick's chair away from his desk while Hank gently took him by his good elbow to pull him up. “We have work to do. You are gonna go get those ribs looked at.”
“Hank, come on...”
“I'll call Juliette,” Hank warned. Then he leaned in closer and lowered his voice, so Nick was the only one who'd hear him. “Or do you want me to call Bud?”
Nick's eisbiber friends might seem cute and non-threatening, but the thought of the entire lodge descending to help their friendly neighborhood Grimm through his convalescence was enough to make Nick go suddenly quiet and cooperative.
“I hate you,” he whispered as he dug his keys out of his desk drawer
“No you don't, you love me,” Hank retorted with a grin. “Tell Dr. Sawyer I say hi!”