[L thinks, for quite some time, that he's managed to circumvent any possible inconvenient or uncomfortable part of this situation. He thinks so as he soaks towel after towel in bright red, lightheaded and bleary as he threads a needle and wields it lefthanded. He thinks so as he drinks a potion to dull the pain, sloppily knits together the rent flesh, and starts to doze once or twice against the side of the tub. He thinks so as nausea forces him, once again, to shift his position, look for another angle to approach the ugly gashes in his forearm.
There's a lot to focus on, and a heavy ringing in his ears. He actually doesn't hear Myr come in, and though the door to the bathroom is kicked half-shut, he didn't think he had a reason to close or lock it. Though his tightly-wound and hyper-alert typical state would jump at the sound of his Bonded's voice so close and so suddenly, he is slower to react, because...
Well, yes, he does need help. It's a mercy, at least, that Myr can't view what looks like a murder scene.]
You're here...
[He sounds as crestfallen as he does exhausted from the blood loss. Myr wasn't supposed to come, at least not until L finished patching this up sufficiently, taping it back together into something makeshift but adequate.
He swallows; his throat is so dry.]
Another towel?
[If any remain. He bundled so many at once into his arms, but maybe not all of them. In the back of his mind, in a dimmer place that doesn't have as much stamina as usual, he wonders how much Myr knows, what he's been told.]
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There's a lot to focus on, and a heavy ringing in his ears. He actually doesn't hear Myr come in, and though the door to the bathroom is kicked half-shut, he didn't think he had a reason to close or lock it. Though his tightly-wound and hyper-alert typical state would jump at the sound of his Bonded's voice so close and so suddenly, he is slower to react, because...
Well, yes, he does need help. It's a mercy, at least, that Myr can't view what looks like a murder scene.]
You're here...
[He sounds as crestfallen as he does exhausted from the blood loss. Myr wasn't supposed to come, at least not until L finished patching this up sufficiently, taping it back together into something makeshift but adequate.
He swallows; his throat is so dry.]
Another towel?
[If any remain. He bundled so many at once into his arms, but maybe not all of them. In the back of his mind, in a dimmer place that doesn't have as much stamina as usual, he wonders how much Myr knows, what he's been told.]