Tristran is somewhere in between sleeping and not sleeping, lying on the bed with his head propped up on a pillow.
His arm is searing with pain from the still-raw wounds, but he's aware of where he is now, and has an idea, even, of what is going on. All in all, wounds aside, he isn't doing too badly.
He spots Yvaine as she comes in and gives her a small, weak smile of greeting. Now he is awake.
She wasn't quite expecting him to be awake and it gets her to back up a little, swallowing and ducking her chin, trying to work herself back up to a proper standard of righteously indignant.
It only really makes it to somewhere around righteously disheveled.
The glass clinks onto the bedside table and she blinks down at him, "Are you alright?"
It's a pretty stupid question, as far as she's concerned, but she can't really think of another one.
"Well, you are very clearly not fine - in fact, you are the opposite of fine," she adds. "You cannot move your arm properly, and you are very likely still bleeding - and even if you are not, you were and I have your blood on my clothing and you wanted to go on your own and leave me behind."
Her voice is a bit frantic at this point - fast-paced and nearly fraying at the edges - and her hair is in disarray, fallen from its neat knot and wild around her face.
"Come here," he says gently, though he doesn't exactly make any sort of gesture to accompany the request. After all, it's true: his sword-wielding arm isn't exactly movable right now, and yes, his blood is actually starting to soak into their bedsheets...but other than that? Quite peachy, really.
"You said nothing was going to happen," she continues, the nervous pacing that had started up skittering to a pause somewhere next to the side of the bed. "You said and he almost sliced you open and -"
"I had to," he answers, his good arm - the working one with the burnt hand - reaching for her hand and squeezing it lightly in his. The burns are very faint now, and the skin is only slightly marred, a little shiny from the scars in comparison to his right.
"It's - I'm sorry. I know I said that nothing would happen, but..."
She tangles her fingers around his and presses her lips to the back of his hand, leaning carefully against the side of the bed. The motion is careful - all of the motions are careful - it's strange to think of him as breakable.
She glances down at him dryly for a moment, releases his hand, and circles around to her side of the bed, crawling over and curling up properly - hand snatched firmly between hers.
"One piece may be a bit of an overstatement, Prince Charming."
But good enough. Still there, which is good enough.
"You're in an awfully good mood for someone who is bleeding all over the place," she murmurs and obliges to shift herself closer still, flush against his side.
A pause, thumb circling reassuringly on the back of his hand.
"Speaking of which," she leans over him carefully (still carefully) and retrieves the items off of the bedside table. "Things - and water, so I am assuming that you swallow them - and you should, because the Lady Bar says you should."
That's pretty much all that she's gathered so far.
She smiles back at him - the first actual hint of one that she's allowed herself - and sets the water glass to the side, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead.
"Very much so," she says, fingers seeking his as quickly as they let go. She almost needs it. "Now, just don't do that again and I will be ecstatic."
His arm is searing with pain from the still-raw wounds, but he's aware of where he is now, and has an idea, even, of what is going on. All in all, wounds aside, he isn't doing too badly.
He spots Yvaine as she comes in and gives her a small, weak smile of greeting. Now he is awake.
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It only really makes it to somewhere around righteously disheveled.
The glass clinks onto the bedside table and she blinks down at him, "Are you alright?"
It's a pretty stupid question, as far as she's concerned, but she can't really think of another one.
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There happens to be a sarcastic side to the young boy when he's wounded and there's nothing he can do about it.
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Her voice is a bit frantic at this point - fast-paced and nearly fraying at the edges - and her hair is in disarray, fallen from its neat knot and wild around her face.
She's rather distinctly not fine either.
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"Come here," he says gently, though he doesn't exactly make any sort of gesture to accompany the request. After all, it's true: his sword-wielding arm isn't exactly movable right now, and yes, his blood is actually starting to soak into their bedsheets...but other than that? Quite peachy, really.
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The sheets are stained.
The sheets are stained.
Quietly, "Why did you do that?"
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"It's - I'm sorry. I know I said that nothing would happen, but..."
He had to.
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She tangles her fingers around his and presses her lips to the back of his hand, leaning carefully against the side of the bed. The motion is careful - all of the motions are careful - it's strange to think of him as breakable.
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His smile becomes a little fuller.
"And I am still in one piece, am I not?"
Well, mostly, anyway.
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"One piece may be a bit of an overstatement, Prince Charming."
But good enough. Still there, which is good enough.
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"I'll be fine," he assures her, then says amusedly, "And then you can call me an idiot and a moron all you want."
Not that that'd stop her now, of course.
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A pause, thumb circling reassuringly on the back of his hand.
"Speaking of which," she leans over him carefully (still carefully) and retrieves the items off of the bedside table. "Things - and water, so I am assuming that you swallow them - and you should, because the Lady Bar says you should."
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He also has to resist wincing as Yvaine gets closer to him; he wants to be close to her.
"What are these -" He has no concept of modern medicine, and looks at the pills confusedly. "Swallow them?"
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She pokes him lightly in the side - the good side - and her attempt to frown sternly comes across rather more worried than she intended.
"And you will take them because I said so."
Or because if he doesn't she'll rant and refuse to kiss him ever again. Either way.
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Once that is done, he holds the glass in his hand. "There," he says, smiling a bit. "Happy?"
He has no idea what taking these things is supposed to do, though.
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That's pretty much all that she's gathered so far.
She smiles back at him - the first actual hint of one that she's allowed herself - and sets the water glass to the side, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead.
"Very much so," she says, fingers seeking his as quickly as they let go. She almost needs it. "Now, just don't do that again and I will be ecstatic."
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