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[potentite]

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[potentite]

[Jake, however, just glances away and clears his throat, staying seated.]

It's all right. It should be fine. We don't know what happened to you back there, so um, you should probably take a load off for a bit longer.

[splinten]

Jake, it's not fine, you're hurt.

[potentite]

[Guilty, he sighs before standing. Now that he isn't trying to hide it, his movements are slower.]

If I show you will you feel better?

[splinten]

I'll feel better when we get you medical help.

[potentite]

Well of course I already patched it up. I'd probably be slipping in blood if I hadn't.

[Helpful.]

[splinten]

Jake!

[potentite]

[Fuck.]

It's not as bad now! I suck at comfort.

[splinten]

Let me see.

[potentite]

I have to undress a bit for that so can we at least go somewhere else?

[splinten]

Yeah.

[Wait. Shit.]

Uh, if you're comfortable with that.

[potentite]

[Despite everything, it gets a small smile.]

Just lead the way, Strider.

[splinten]

[Dirk picks the nearest quarters and the nearest empty room. He pushes it open, letting Jake in with Dirk only following after, and then he shuts the door.]

I can turn around if you need.

[potentite]

[Somewhat embarrassed, he mumbles:] It's fine. Nothing too new for you.

[Jake undoes the buttons on the overalls and shrugs them open enough to show that he's bandaged up his entire stomach with a thick layer of gauze with a dark red stain over where Dirk might recall the sword had been.]

I— um, you know. Did the best I could. Took a bit of scavenging to even find a kit. Doesn't look like there's a lot of them around.

[splinten]

[His chest goes tight. It takes everything he has not to run over to Jake.]

Fuck. Fuck. We need to find a—Life player, a healer. Whatever. Fuck.

[potentite]

[Fuck. He knew it would worry him. Shit.] It's not fatal, promise. Anyway there were some medication in there too so...

[So he is properly drugged up and thus totally fine.]

[splinten]

Jake. It looks really bad.

[potentite]

[Eyes downcast, he moves to button back up and hide it again.]

Sorry.

[splinten]

What? Why?

[potentite]

I— I just... now that's a weight on your mind.

[splinten]

Yeah, of course it is. You're—I don't want you to be hurt.

[potentite]

[He rubs his wrist idly.] I don't think there's much we can do about it.

[splinten]

We can ask for help.

[potentite]

I... [He bites his lip.] If you happen to find a doctor, well, that's fine. But don't go out of your way for it.

[splinten]

Why not? [A pause—painfully:] If you want me to stay out of your business, I get it, just—you're hurt.

[potentite]

[He stares, frowning.] What? No, no— I— I just don't... want to bother you.