[Charles' eyes follow her every move sharply, his entire focus on her as he leans against the nearest wall, trying to make it look nonchalant. He can deal with pain, but with none of the drugs he's used to taking, he finds it difficult to keep his thoughts on anything else; watching the girl assemble a number of herbs in a wrap helps.
She grabs his hand and drops the wrap in his palm, looking up at him with a look that tells him there's a lot more to this girl than she lets on. He tilts his head as he studies her. Their hands are still touching, her pale, unbroken skin against his much rougher, sun-darkened fingers.]
Do you know how to stitch up a wound? [His tone is gruff, midway between a question and an order. He's not planning on roughening her up - he can still cauterize being applying the herbs - but he'd prefer stitches. The scars feel less like a brand. He's had enough branding to last him a lifetime.]
no subject
She grabs his hand and drops the wrap in his palm, looking up at him with a look that tells him there's a lot more to this girl than she lets on. He tilts his head as he studies her. Their hands are still touching, her pale, unbroken skin against his much rougher, sun-darkened fingers.]
Do you know how to stitch up a wound? [His tone is gruff, midway between a question and an order. He's not planning on roughening her up - he can still cauterize being applying the herbs - but he'd prefer stitches. The scars feel less like a brand. He's had enough branding to last him a lifetime.]