[Not exactly the most eloquent response, but probably the most honest. Wade's quiet for a few seconds, busying himself with tying off the bandage wrapped around Nate's neck before withdrawing to peel off the stained gloves.]
Okay, I think we're done! Did the best I could, but I'd still get that looked at by a professional if I were you. Might wanna invest in some collared shirts while you're at it, too-- that ain't a very good look for you.
[ Tentatively he feels at the bandage around his throat, finding the knot and the gauze, swallowing to make sure it isn't uncomfortable. It's a light sort of pressure and one he hopes will graduate to normal plaster bandages quickly, if only because he doesn't really want to wear a turtleneck in this weather.
An ironic train of thought he finds completely derailed when Wade tells him that his shirt is effectively too low. Nate grimaces without bothering to hide his disgust at the idea of wearing anything higher than a crew-neck. ]
Pass. [ He thumbs at the collar of his Henley briefly, the fabric tacky with drying blood. ] I'll wear a turtleneck when I'm dead.
[ Nate turns to get up and winces, feeling his sides sting and his palm immediately shifts to soothe the spot in question. He settles back in the chair again with a dense sigh. ]
...How much of a raise do I need to give you to look at my side?
[The strong argument against collared shirts earns Nate a bemused look from Wade's end, which shifts to something a bit more concerned when he sees the man wince and press a hand to his side.]
I dunno-- depends on how much bitchin' I have to endure while I'm doin' it, I guess.
[The jab is lighthearted at most-- aside from a few flinches, Nate's proven himself to be a model patient under the circumstances. Wade begins to pluck and peel the shirt away from the affected area, wincing in sympathy as the cloth sticks a bit to the bloody wound underneath.]
Sorry. Tryin' to be gentle. S'like a band-aid-- I never know whether to do it quick or slow.
[ He doesn't hesitate, nodding toward the kit and the fabric scissors tucked away next to the triangular bandage. It's valiant to want to prevent any more pain and suffering, but Nate doesn't fully have healthcare figured out in this new world and to that end he'd rather just hedge his bets. ]
[Wade grabs the scissors from inside the kit, holding the edge of the shirt taut while he snips away at the fabric.]
That shirt was pretty much on its way out anyway. Hard to get bloodstains outta clothes. Believe me, I'd know. Went through quite a few shirts before I decided to just give up and wear red.
[He gingerly peels the strips of fabric away from the wound and is relieved to find that, while messy, it doesn't seem to warrant any stitches. With a small sound of affirmation, Wade tears open a packet of disinfectant wipes and begins to clean away the blood.]
This's probably gonna sting too, sorry about that.
[It's interesting how his medical training-- sparse as it was-- comes back to him in a situation like this. He still thinks Nate would be better off with an actual professional, but so far he hasn't fucked things up too badly. Not to his knowledge, anyway.]
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[Not exactly the most eloquent response, but probably the most honest. Wade's quiet for a few seconds, busying himself with tying off the bandage wrapped around Nate's neck before withdrawing to peel off the stained gloves.]
Okay, I think we're done! Did the best I could, but I'd still get that looked at by a professional if I were you. Might wanna invest in some collared shirts while you're at it, too-- that ain't a very good look for you.
no subject
An ironic train of thought he finds completely derailed when Wade tells him that his shirt is effectively too low. Nate grimaces without bothering to hide his disgust at the idea of wearing anything higher than a crew-neck. ]
Pass. [ He thumbs at the collar of his Henley briefly, the fabric tacky with drying blood. ] I'll wear a turtleneck when I'm dead.
[ Nate turns to get up and winces, feeling his sides sting and his palm immediately shifts to soothe the spot in question. He settles back in the chair again with a dense sigh. ]
...How much of a raise do I need to give you to look at my side?
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I dunno-- depends on how much bitchin' I have to endure while I'm doin' it, I guess.
[The jab is lighthearted at most-- aside from a few flinches, Nate's proven himself to be a model patient under the circumstances. Wade begins to pluck and peel the shirt away from the affected area, wincing in sympathy as the cloth sticks a bit to the bloody wound underneath.]
Sorry. Tryin' to be gentle. S'like a band-aid-- I never know whether to do it quick or slow.
no subject
[ He doesn't hesitate, nodding toward the kit and the fabric scissors tucked away next to the triangular bandage. It's valiant to want to prevent any more pain and suffering, but Nate doesn't fully have healthcare figured out in this new world and to that end he'd rather just hedge his bets. ]
I can always get a new shirt.
no subject
[Wade grabs the scissors from inside the kit, holding the edge of the shirt taut while he snips away at the fabric.]
That shirt was pretty much on its way out anyway. Hard to get bloodstains outta clothes. Believe me, I'd know. Went through quite a few shirts before I decided to just give up and wear red.
[He gingerly peels the strips of fabric away from the wound and is relieved to find that, while messy, it doesn't seem to warrant any stitches. With a small sound of affirmation, Wade tears open a packet of disinfectant wipes and begins to clean away the blood.]
This's probably gonna sting too, sorry about that.
[It's interesting how his medical training-- sparse as it was-- comes back to him in a situation like this. He still thinks Nate would be better off with an actual professional, but so far he hasn't fucked things up too badly. Not to his knowledge, anyway.]