Of course she didn't think it was necessary, because she'd rather go home and struggle to replace her wardrobe than accept help. Really, she was a nightmare at the core, even if in the moment he was glad that she was here at his side rather than drowning in ceiling-high waters in the pantry. He shot her a sour look that was reminiscent of the ones he'd shot her in the past. "Right," he said, his tone making it evident that he didn't think she was very right at all. On top of her dress and coat and shoes she'd also be replacing a wand; he wondered if that had yet dawned upon her. If it had, it might have explained, at least a little, her disregard for her entire outfit.
He didn't have time to talk about that with her, though, or at least she distracted him long enough to let it slip from his mind. His gaze trailed down to the bottom of his pant leg, which looked considerably darker than the rest of the fabric even given that all of it was soaked. On the floor around it the water had tinted red, making for a dramatic—maybe a bit too dramatic—sight. "Yeah, well," He moved his leg to the side, expecting pain but pleased to find that there was none that suggested it was anymore than an superficial surface cut. (He really didn't want to deal with deep cuts and infections. Not after this.) "You, too." With her now sitting next to him it was more difficult to ignore the scratches and cuts. He held his hand in front of her face and brushed the back of his pointer finger across her brow, which was smeared with blood that had since dried. "Not too bad, though." He realized the only thing worse than being gravely injured himself was her being gravely injured. Nothing would have been more torturous than having to navigate the rest of the ship knowing her life was in his hands.
He didn't have time to talk about that with her, though, or at least she distracted him long enough to let it slip from his mind. His gaze trailed down to the bottom of his pant leg, which looked considerably darker than the rest of the fabric even given that all of it was soaked. On the floor around it the water had tinted red, making for a dramatic—maybe a bit too dramatic—sight. "Yeah, well," He moved his leg to the side, expecting pain but pleased to find that there was none that suggested it was anymore than an superficial surface cut. (He really didn't want to deal with deep cuts and infections. Not after this.) "You, too." With her now sitting next to him it was more difficult to ignore the scratches and cuts. He held his hand in front of her face and brushed the back of his pointer finger across her brow, which was smeared with blood that had since dried. "Not too bad, though." He realized the only thing worse than being gravely injured himself was her being gravely injured. Nothing would have been more torturous than having to navigate the rest of the ship knowing her life was in his hands.
set by lady <3