[ his shoulders relax as freddie holds out his hand. he takes it, carefully, and begins wiping at the blood with the wet cloth. a smile catches the corner of his mouth as his eyes flick to freddie's face. ]
No, it ain't that. Can't say as I've ever seen dragon burns, up close.
[ he has seen men, younger and older, with blood running from lacerations and puncture wounds deeper than freddie's. men with bloody stumps where their fingers or arms used to be. he once saw a man after he fell from the rigging, and it's not a sight he's like to forget. the more severe injuries were usually tended to by the surgeon, but there were a few times when cassidy had to tend to them on his own.
he can imagine a younger version of himself in freddie's place, eyes shut tight as his friend rubbed a salve on a nasty scrape he'd gotten when a rope whipped out of his hands. white as the holy mother's arse, his friend had told him, describing his face.
he's working out another piece of glass, more gently than before, when freddie hisses. as he dabs at a fresh welling of blood, his eyebrow hitches up and he looks at freddie's face again, briefly. ] Oh? [ his gaze drops back down. ] What is it you think you know?
[ he hopes the talking is a sufficient enough distraction. the glass finally pulls free and he covers it with the gauze, pressing as firmly as he dares to staunch the bleeding. ]
no subject
No, it ain't that. Can't say as I've ever seen dragon burns, up close.
[ he has seen men, younger and older, with blood running from lacerations and puncture wounds deeper than freddie's. men with bloody stumps where their fingers or arms used to be. he once saw a man after he fell from the rigging, and it's not a sight he's like to forget. the more severe injuries were usually tended to by the surgeon, but there were a few times when cassidy had to tend to them on his own.
he can imagine a younger version of himself in freddie's place, eyes shut tight as his friend rubbed a salve on a nasty scrape he'd gotten when a rope whipped out of his hands. white as the holy mother's arse, his friend had told him, describing his face.
he's working out another piece of glass, more gently than before, when freddie hisses. as he dabs at a fresh welling of blood, his eyebrow hitches up and he looks at freddie's face again, briefly. ] Oh? [ his gaze drops back down. ] What is it you think you know?
[ he hopes the talking is a sufficient enough distraction. the glass finally pulls free and he covers it with the gauze, pressing as firmly as he dares to staunch the bleeding. ]