Ed shut his mouth as soon as Marion walked in, quite unnerved by the mobsters calm tone. He sucked in air and let it out slowly, keeping his uneasiness hidden behind his eyes. He glanced at the gauze that poked out from behind the bathrobe his host was wrapped in. His mouth felt dry and he decided upon refraining from being a little brat as long as he was under this mobsters care. He didn't want to wear out Marion's patience and lose his life. "Marion's a cool name." He muttered semi-politely. "My name's Ed." He didn't offer a last name. His grandfather was a powerful, well known man, and being connected to him wasn't in Ed's favor for more than one reason. He slowly rose from the bed, silently leaving for the guest shower. He considered offering up a 'thank you' to Marion for patching him up, but decided against it. It didn't want to seem polite or easily tamed.

Upon reaching the bathroom, Ed pulled off the baggy clothes and stepped into the shower, almost wailing when the steady stream hit his shoulder. His leg wasn't taking well to standing, but he didn't want to sit in the tub for fear he'd not be able to get back up on his own. The gauze, upon getting wet, started trying to unravel and he desperately tried to keep it on. He managed to wash his hair and get moderately clean before his leg started to steadily trickle with a bit of blood. He cut off the water and slowly stepped out of the shower, trembling. It wasn't everyday he got shot, and he didn't do well with pain. He dried off and unraveled the gauze, looking to see what the damage might be. The wound in his leg wasn't as bad as the one his shoulder sported, but neither area was particularly pretty. He searched the medicine cabinet until he found gauze to rewrap himself. He made sure the wounds were as clean and as dry as possible before covering them tightly and slidding the baggy clothes back over his body. He sat on the edge of the tub, running over what was happening in his head. He wasn't sure if he was being considered a guest or a captive and that worried him. If he were a guest, he was in no eminent danger, but I he was a captive, he'd have to watch what he did and said. He knew there was no escaping. He didn't know where he was, he had no money, and his leg wouldn't carry him very far. He came to the conclusion that laying low here was best until he was healed. Then he'd run off as fast as he could and never come back.

Ed quietly made his way back to the master bedroom, laying down in the bed, soaking the pillow with his wet hair. He glanced at Marion for a moment. The man wasn't as intimidating as many of the mob's goons. He didn't have any awful scarring and he wasn't old. Still, if he survived that fight alive, he was no one to be picking a fight with. Ed was pretty sure he couldn't take Marion in a man to man brawl, and he didn't have any weapons. He didn't like being helpless or forced to do anything, but there was no changing this situation. He'd have to stay here and hope this man was as kind as he seemed so far. He halted his thoughts and stared into the mobster's eyes, looking for any sign he might tell a lie. "So, why'd ya pull me outta that mess? Why'd ya not leave me there bleedin ta death or turn me in ta the fuzz. Ain't no way you'd mistake me for one of your own, and usually your crew don't help ours." He fiddled with the hem of the tshirt he was wearing nervously. "You take me as a hostage or somethin? Ya won't get no reward for me." He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes.