A series of events
redjaywrites. As of yet, incomplete.Dominic would never say he had been a t-total man before he met Cooper, neither would he say he had cut down since he had met her. She was his best friend, his occasional sparring partner and always the first person he went to whenever anything was wrong.
When they had met, Dom had been soaked in blood and had soon after collapsed on the floor of an Edinburgh tat shop, which had perhaps been the proof that she needed that the blood was his own. She hadn't trusted him, even then, but had fixed him up and dragged him somewhere until he had woken up. He had been lucky he hadn't cut any deeper, since neither Cooper nor himself would have stepped into a hospital and anything much worse would likely have sent him into shock. Since Cooper had been certain that he was some kind of copper, sent to track her down, he remained to this day surprised that she had taken pity on him. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the way that he had panicked when she had turned up, reacting almost as badly as she had done. In his case, it was the delayed effects of pain setting in, as well as the nausea that set in every time he was around blood that he still had yet to tell Cooper about. It had taken more than three days before she actually spoke to him, possibly because of the arm that kept on bleeding and kept him from keeping anything down, let alone speak, but also more than likely because her feeling were still hurt from him trying to explode her. The little things.
Much to Dom's surprise, Cooper found something in him that nobody before or since seemed to see. It took her a remarkably short amount of time to trust him, although he was still not certain if he was pleased about it. They had grudgingly and unspokenly agreed to travel together, on a temporary basis. Dominic hadn't yet actively tried to kill Cooper and she, for her part, had decided that she needed to show him some sympathy, considering that she had been able to corroborate his story by following a trail of blood. Actions always spoke louder than words for the Irish woman, or non action, as the case may be. After speaking to Cooper for five minutes, he had needed a drink. After ten, he had realised it was time to start speaking to god again. Given half an hour alone with her, it was very clear that he needed to find a new god at the bottom of a very large bottle.
Three weeks of knowing her, Dom had begun to think of her as a cat. Partially from the way that she would jump at strange noises, but mostly because when she was shocked, he would find himself with a faceful of red hair while she clambered up his chest as though she could hide. Given that he was only an inch or two taller than her, it made for a few awkward conversations when they both ended up on the floor.