@theabsolutemedian:
“Let me clean your wounds…”
For a man regularly hailed for being remarkably pedestrian, she couldn't help but think that Stahl was phenomenally kind. If it were from anyone else but their designated healers, perhaps she would have declined the offer. After all, the injuries she sustained from the battle were relatively menial: some topical scrapes, and a single light gash decorating her left arm--she would have preferred to do it herself. But making an uncommon exception, Robyn seated herself on the cot obediently, tugging at her bangs. "Ah, um... okay. Thank you."
Perhaps it was his demeanor? He might have said something once before, she thought to herself, about apothecaries; his home to which she hoped he would return to when the battle was through. At the time, she hadn't thought too heavily about it. But even despite his usual passivity, sitting here, she couldn’t help but feel compelled to do exactly as he told her to. It was a bit baffling. "What about you, Stahl?"