[ he takes in the supplies and shrugs. better than nothing. he picks up his hand to inspect the damage. he might be able to get away without stitches but probably not. still, it can wait. he uncaps the vodka and pours it over his fucked up hand with only the barest twitch in his expression that it hurts. there's something cleansing about it too as it kills his already-fucked cells. yeah, he's going to be fine.
then, as if jesse isn't even there, he's winding the gauze around his hand tightly with the other end of the roll clenched in his teeth when he should probably just -- ask the other human that's standing right in front of him. nah. ]
no subject
then, as if jesse isn't even there, he's winding the gauze around his hand tightly with the other end of the roll clenched in his teeth when he should probably just -- ask the other human that's standing right in front of him. nah. ]