Yeah, I know. You helped. [He tries to sound comforting. He doesn't know if it worked.
He doesn't particularly want to take his shirt off in front of her - he never felt particularly self-conscious before, but the combination of his extreme inability to keep up with the others and the fact that almost everyone else here in on a spectrum between lithe and ripped has inculcated a certain uneasiness - but he expects that no healing's about to get done until they see how bad the damage is.
He pulls off his shirt, wincing as the fabric pulls away from the sticky parts of the injury, and leans forward. The wound is ugly, not particularly deep but several inches long. More alarmingly, it seems to already be somewhat putrefied. It's an assortment of colors, all of them nauseating: grey and blue bruising, deep red drainage, brown and yellow-green pus, swollen pink skin drawn taut around the edges.
He rests his head in his hands, letting her take a good look. La Triviata switches over to Arlo Guthrie, and a thin "riding on the City of New Orleans..." whispers out of the earbud.]
no subject
He doesn't particularly want to take his shirt off in front of her - he never felt particularly self-conscious before, but the combination of his extreme inability to keep up with the others and the fact that almost everyone else here in on a spectrum between lithe and ripped has inculcated a certain uneasiness - but he expects that no healing's about to get done until they see how bad the damage is.
He pulls off his shirt, wincing as the fabric pulls away from the sticky parts of the injury, and leans forward. The wound is ugly, not particularly deep but several inches long. More alarmingly, it seems to already be somewhat putrefied. It's an assortment of colors, all of them nauseating: grey and blue bruising, deep red drainage, brown and yellow-green pus, swollen pink skin drawn taut around the edges.
He rests his head in his hands, letting her take a good look. La Triviata switches over to Arlo Guthrie, and a thin "riding on the City of New Orleans..." whispers out of the earbud.]
How's it look? Because it hurts like a bitch.