underneaththenightsdisguise:
That… wasn’t exactly the response he expected. The enemy, the one who made it all turn out this way, was showing some compassion and care. The doctor’s oath he guessed: do no harm and help those in need–even if they were a terrorist that killed countless people, it seemed. Pressure was applied to the wound, getting another wince in response from the wave of pain to rise. Stitches, that would do a lot of good–not really. Reaper hissed once again, eyes beginning to narrow into thin slits beneath the mask, “Why do you even care anyways?” There was an attempt to stand to his full height, quickly brought down by another rush of agonizing pain. He let his head hang down for a moment, snorting in derision, “Is it that little oath you took as a doctor, to heal those in need?” Bitterness, distaste, “I will be fine without you messing more up.”
“I care because if you bleed to death we won’t get to bring you home and rehabilitate you.” Angela said blankly, not wanting to admit the real reason. She still cared about him, more than she ever should have. And she had hope that he’d come back of his own free will. That they’d be close again.
“Now are you going to let me help, or do you plan on continuing to bleed here?” She questioned with a raised eyebrow, putting her walls up.
