Alfred couldn't help but be a little suspicious as the other man turned his attention to the mess. Was this some kind of trap? Fisk hardly seemed about to lash out at him, but he hadn't given much warning before his first spell, either, and Alfred noted that he hadn't put his wand away. Alfred wasn't sure whether what he'd said had really been enough to mollify the healer — and, to be honest, he still wasn't entirely sure what had set him off in the first place. He didn't want him anywhere near Zelda, that much was clear, but... well, knowing everything that he did, it was hardly as though he would have been surprised by the fact that they'd talked on a few occasions.
Which he supposed he'd just agreed to stop doing, although he hadn't really been thinking about it as the words had left his mouth. He'd just been saying the first thing that came to mind in order to get himself out of this situation, and based on how Fisk was reacting he might have hit upon the right thing. What exactly had he agreed to, though? Did Ari Fisk expect him to stop trying to get to know Zelda, or was this a flat ban on seeing her in any capacity? Probably the latter, though that was problematic. She had a pervasive habit of showing up in his life. He had not been seeking her out when — well, come to think of it, ever. Their first few meetings were the result of happenstance, as far as he was concerned, and the rest were times when she had sought him out. If that kept happening, he might find himself at the wrong end of Mr. Fisk's wand again, for failing to keep the hastily-spoken promise he'd just given.
But these were misgivings for another time; he certainly wasn't going to discuss them with the man who had just attacked him in a supply closet.
"Just my hand," he replied tersely, flexing his fingers to ensure that he could still use them all. The cut wasn't really that deep, he could see now; it was just deep enough to bleed, and because of the location was doing so at an alarming rate. It looked much worse than it was, which the other man, as a healer, could probably tell at a glance.

MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER
Which he supposed he'd just agreed to stop doing, although he hadn't really been thinking about it as the words had left his mouth. He'd just been saying the first thing that came to mind in order to get himself out of this situation, and based on how Fisk was reacting he might have hit upon the right thing. What exactly had he agreed to, though? Did Ari Fisk expect him to stop trying to get to know Zelda, or was this a flat ban on seeing her in any capacity? Probably the latter, though that was problematic. She had a pervasive habit of showing up in his life. He had not been seeking her out when — well, come to think of it, ever. Their first few meetings were the result of happenstance, as far as he was concerned, and the rest were times when she had sought him out. If that kept happening, he might find himself at the wrong end of Mr. Fisk's wand again, for failing to keep the hastily-spoken promise he'd just given.
But these were misgivings for another time; he certainly wasn't going to discuss them with the man who had just attacked him in a supply closet.
"Just my hand," he replied tersely, flexing his fingers to ensure that he could still use them all. The cut wasn't really that deep, he could see now; it was just deep enough to bleed, and because of the location was doing so at an alarming rate. It looked much worse than it was, which the other man, as a healer, could probably tell at a glance.

MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER