[Zuko isn't quite accustomed to getting mail; years at sea tends to cut a man off from the outside world, so a package addressed to him is met with suspicion... though, admittedly, curiosity as well
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[He's not the only one staring at the burn remedies this morning. A solid morning of hauling at a hammer not meant to be touched by human hands has left the palms of Thor's hands looking rather like raw hamburger, and he's staring at the little cases of ointment in front of him with consternation.
He glances up when Zuko walks in - and does a double-take as he approaches. There's a wound he's not seen Mayfield inflict before.]
[Well, that was a new scream in his house. And the Major had thought he had gotten so used to them by this point. He strolls into the kitchen and looks down at Zuko. Not with concern, but interest.]
[Zuko speaks through gritted teeth, stumbling to his feet so he can lean upright against the doorjamb. Well, for a certain value of "upright;" his shoulders are hunched, and after about three seconds of willpower he bolts to the sink and starts running cold water over a dishrag.]
[Well it's a damn good thing you didn't expect any assistance from the Major, cause he sure as shit isn't handing out any. In fact, he's laughing a little. See, his box had a nice trick this month too.
Oh. By the by? He has an eyepatch over his left eye because it kind of got shot out.]
Indeed! That would be your first regain.
What was lost when you came here is now returned, bit by bit! Including scars.
[Keep it classy, Mayfield. Zuko doesn't even care that he's being laughed at; he's far more interested in pressing the cold rag against the burn. There's probably no reaction the Major could have that would be worse than how he got the scar the first time around.]
But why this?! There's a million other things that would be better! And why'd they have to do it this way?!
[Yeah, that might be some panic there. Understandable, given the circumstances.]
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He glances up when Zuko walks in - and does a double-take as he approaches. There's a wound he's not seen Mayfield inflict before.]
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[Zuko is sullen and snappish; a quarter of his face is gone, okay. He's not going to be in a good mood.]
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What do you expect to find for such a wound here, boy?
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Some kind of lotion or something. I've had to do this before.
What happened to your hands?
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My.
What happened here?
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[Zuko speaks through gritted teeth, stumbling to his feet so he can lean upright against the doorjamb. Well, for a certain value of "upright;" his shoulders are hunched, and after about three seconds of willpower he bolts to the sink and starts running cold water over a dishrag.]
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Oh. By the by? He has an eyepatch over his left eye because it kind of got shot out.]
Indeed! That would be your first regain.
What was lost when you came here is now returned, bit by bit! Including scars.
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But why this?! There's a million other things that would be better! And why'd they have to do it this way?!
[Yeah, that might be some panic there. Understandable, given the circumstances.]
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What the fuck is with facial wounds and this fucking house! [this is how she shows concern]
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What's wrong with you?!
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The stove is not for putting your face on, kid, what the fuck!
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What do you want?
[This is standard Zuko grumpy behavior. Pay no mind.]
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