After some discussion -- and no small amount of insistence from Trucker, considering that Priestly and Tish were both candidates for mild concussions and he, Piper, and Jen had all had at least a couple of beers -- it was determined that everyone would crash at Trucker's, for now. It wasn't large, but it had plenty of soft places to crash on, and the breeze coming in from the ocean kept it comfortable even with so many people packed in.

As the others were getting ready to turn in, Priestly found himself in the kitchen with Tish, as they looked for a good place to trash their respective cold packs. Priestly flashed her a small smile as he reached past her to drop the peas in the sink, then winced as his wrist twinged.

Tish gave him a once over. "Here, sit." She guided him to the breakfast bar and sat him down, then pulled an ace bandage out of the open first aid kit on the counter. "I dated a guy who was into extreme sports a couple years back. I know how to wrap a sprain." She gently took Priestly's hand and started wrapping the bandage around it. "You should probably get it checked out for real tomorrow, though."

Priestly watched her face while she stared down at his hand. Between the bruise on her forehead and the bandage on her cheek, there was no hiding that she'd been through a lot in the last couple of days, but here she was, making sure his arm was okay. "Thanks. You sure you're okay, too?"

She looked up and flashed him a tight smile. "Yeah. I'm an idiot, but I'm fine."

Priestly shook his head. "Don't do that. Don't put this on yourself."

Tish sighed, carefully tying off the end of the bandage. "I should have known." She looked up at him. "You never liked him, did you. How'd you know?"

"What, that he was a dick?"

"That he was that kind of dick."

It was Priestly's turn to look down, carefully turning his hand and flexing his fingers as if to test the bandage. "I dunno. We can smell our own, I guess."

"Are you kidding me?" Tish scoffed. "You and Tad are nothing alike."

"Not now," Priestly said. "But, I dunno. In another life? Pretty little rich boy, football star, absolutely soaked in privilege and assholery? Yeah, that could've been me."

"What, seriously?"

"I was not always the loveable punk you see before you." Priestly still hadn't looked up, just pushed himself to his feet, tucking his arm against his chest. "Anyway, thanks."

"No." Tish put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down onto the stool. "You don't get to say that and then walk away. Look at me. I'll buy that you weren't always Mr. Kilt-and-Mohawk. I'll even buy that you played football. That was a nice tackle, out there. But no way were you anything but a good guy."

"You don't know that," Priestly said.

"Yeah, I kinda do. Here." She pressed some painkillers into his good hand. "Take those, and stop being an idiot. Or I'll get Dinah to kick your ass. I get the feeling she could."

Priestly had to smile at that. "Well, she'd definitely lecture me a lot."

Tish mussed his already fairly wilted mohawk with her palm. "There you go. Guys like Tad don't end up surrounded by girls like Dinah. Or Jen, or Piper, or Zo. So no more arguing."

"They like you, too, you know," Priestly said. "So I'm guessing you're doing something right, too."

"Well yeah," Tish said, smirking. "I'm amazing."

"Yeah," Priestly said, smiling back. "I know."