☤
Send me ☤ and my Muse will tend to a small injury that yours has
“Yes, I know. It’s just a fuckin’ scratch, you’ve survived worse. I get it, you’re fuckin’ tough, alright? Now sit your arse down and let me clean it.”
“You’re missing the part where I said I’ll be fine. I don’t need you pouring over me like I’m some defenseless child.” Remi was anything but cooperative, choosing to pull herself away and check the new message on her mobile instead. She didn’t have time to be babied.
Eilidh just rolled her eyes. “Stubbornness isnae goin’ to keep that shite from gettin’ infected. You can updated your fuckin’ twitter or whatever that is while you’re sittin’ down.” Remi might be the better, stronger fighter, but that didn’t mean she didn’t need somebody to talk sense into her once in a while. It was just fucking weird for Eilidh to find herself in that role. “Look, either you let me clean it properly, or I’m goin’ to have to chase you down with a bottle of vodka, and you’re not goin’ to enjoy it.”
Fucking hell... Remi did not like cooperating when it came to unnecessary fussing over her well being. When she said she would be fine, she truly meant it. Within a day at the most the scratch would heal and there would be no infection to be found. She knew that, but Eilidh did not and there was no way Remi was opening that can of worms. She sat wordlessly, as instructed, and navigated to the message on her phone. Another possible hunt. Super.
