"Easy..." he murmurs as he applies ointment to the wound on Jou's side, "Just give me a few more moments, we're almost done." The Yakuza's reward for complying is a soft kiss to his collarbone, a nuzzle, before Atem resumes tending to him, winding a bandage around the injured portion of his torso. "Were you hurt anywhere else... ? ... Katsuya, look at me."
He wasn’t sitting still so much from obedience, but rather, from the fear that if he moved -- even a little, or at all -- the anger that festered and grew within his chest would find a way to escape. Through the slightest crack or fracture, it would wriggle and explode out of him; likely, he feared, catching Atem in the fallout.
He could not help but hate it, though; that he needed to be patched up at all, and most of all, that he needed to be patched up by Atem. This was all supposed to be separate. Supposed to be... Different.
For a long moment, he did not respond to Atem’s urging, his eyes focused distant upon the decor on his walls. It blurred together as he stared blankly at it, replaying the events of the evening. He barely even felt the burn of the wound on his side, where the blade had torn a strip away from his flesh -- where the betrayal had been made quite clear, amid the small and familiar room he called his office.
The knife hadn’t come from the man who sat across from him -- it had come from behind, from a lieutenant he was meant to trust. And as a result, three men lay dead within his office. Another mess, besides the one on his side, that he needed to clean. And he refused... REFUSED, to allow Atem to be dragged into that, as well.
“ -- I’m fine.” He finally answered, sudden and brusque as he pulled himself away. He reached out toward the shirt he had discarded, pulling it on, seeming heedless of the stains. “I have business to attend to. You should... go visit Yugi, tonight.”