waning-therianthrope:
Remus felt himself blush, flustered over her insistence to see that he was alright. Most people who were bold enough to acknowledge his injuries left it at that, as if he wouldn’t have known that they were there, they didn’t push it like Florence was. There was a conflicting emotion rising in him, something between annoyance and embarrassment. Remus’ throat tightened slightly in anxiety, but even as the situation flustered him, the genuine philanthropy of her demeanor shamed him. It could be hard to remember, even in times of peace, that some people were just helpful.
Exhaustion, more than consent, won over Remus to nodding at Florence. “That is very kind of you-” He said softly, he added quickly, “These are part and parcel of my… job, scratches like these, but I know better than to refuse a Hufflepuff.” Remus said this last bit with a smile, attempting to glaze over his obvious anxiety and embarrassment. Though he was a taller man, he softened his shoulders in an effort to take up less space, kept his voice quiet, and seemed unwilling to stand out. Remus tried to shuffle out of the way of the front door, giving Florence a wide birth to unlock it if she so choose.
Bringing more attention to the places where the man was banged up, scratched, and bruised might not have been the best idea, but Florence couldn’t help herself. She wanted to make sure that he was alright. If not for his sake, then for her own. Whatever caused his injuries could’ve gotten more than surface deep... and if they weren’t checked on, could get infected. “I promise to be quick, even if I’m thorough. If you don’t ask... what is it that you do for a living?” She gave him a small smile, hoping that if she showed him some kindness, he wouldn’t feel as awkward about the whole thing. “Let’s head inside, yeah?” Florence brushed herself off and gestured for the man to follow her inside. Where they were, people might watch. Stare. And that wouldn’t look good for either of them... no matter what it happened to look like. Opening the door and stepping inside, Florence tried to find the best place for him to sit down. “How about you sit down over on the couch? I can get you something to drink, if you’d like. To calm yourself. I can’t imagine you’re feeling your best, and all, what with a nervous Nellie like myself pestering you about your injuries.”










