[ Once upon a time, Wolfwood had been fairly good at basic first aid; bumps and scrapes were common among rowdy children, and he'd always been better at staying calm in the face of a bawling baby. The skill had deteriorated over time as he stopped trying to avoid blows and got used to the taste of Conrad's medicine on the back of his tongue.
It's been a long time since he's had to care about an injury, and it's hard to get back into the habit. It doesn't help that the angle of the wound makes it difficult to treat, awkwardly having to administer stitches with one hand while watching himself in a mirror.
He doesn't flinch when Vash sets a hand on his arm, but tenses instinctively when he starts to undo the wrapping, the movement reminding of the steady, dull throb of pain emanating from the still open wound.
And still, as he takes in Vash's expression, he feels like Vash cares more about it than he does. ]
I ain't gonna cuss you out over it, if that's what you're hesitatin' about.
[ He hmphs a little, tilting his head away to give himself some space, awkward in the close proximity. ]
I'm just surprised you didn't send some other blonde haired guy to do your biddin'.
[ Vash almost teases him, something like You're not? That would be a first., but the wound still feels too fresh and he doesn't want to risk reopening it. He reaches for the disinfectant pads first, then shifts the rest of the first aid kit into Wolfwood's lap without preamble. ]
This is going to sting, that's all. [ Without any further warning, he dabs at the raw edges of the stitches, holding the disinfectant pad to each one only long enough to wipe away the worst of the dried blood.
He doesn't flinch when Wolfwood calls him out. He doesn't regret anything he's done in that respect, either. ] I was planning to. Bricks is better at this kind of thing than I am and -- scissors please? -- and I didn't think you'd want to see my face again, let alone... get into bed with me again. [ So to speak. ] If you wanted to keep your distance, I'd understand.
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It's been a long time since he's had to care about an injury, and it's hard to get back into the habit. It doesn't help that the angle of the wound makes it difficult to treat, awkwardly having to administer stitches with one hand while watching himself in a mirror.
He doesn't flinch when Vash sets a hand on his arm, but tenses instinctively when he starts to undo the wrapping, the movement reminding of the steady, dull throb of pain emanating from the still open wound.
And still, as he takes in Vash's expression, he feels like Vash cares more about it than he does. ]
I ain't gonna cuss you out over it, if that's what you're hesitatin' about.
[ He hmphs a little, tilting his head away to give himself some space, awkward in the close proximity. ]
I'm just surprised you didn't send some other blonde haired guy to do your biddin'.
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This is going to sting, that's all. [ Without any further warning, he dabs at the raw edges of the stitches, holding the disinfectant pad to each one only long enough to wipe away the worst of the dried blood.
He doesn't flinch when Wolfwood calls him out. He doesn't regret anything he's done in that respect, either. ] I was planning to. Bricks is better at this kind of thing than I am and -- scissors please? -- and I didn't think you'd want to see my face again, let alone... get into bed with me again. [ So to speak. ] If you wanted to keep your distance, I'd understand.