Disclaimer: The hottest disclaimer color of this season, next season, all past seasons, and all seasons to come is… autotext.
Heather walked down the foggy street slowly, clutching her wounded arm. She groaned, then fell to her knees, first easing the pressure on her limb, then releasing. "Hell!" she cried as blood jetted from the injury. She moaned in pain, doubling over, then she heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Great," she muttered. "This is just what I need." She realized that she could not hear any static from the radio that she carried with her. "What?" she asked herself quietly, looking up.
There stood a man she had met earlier, Vincent. "Hey, Heather," he said in his normal friendly manner. Heather frowned. She just was not too sure about him, always showing up where she was. His bespectacled eyes jumped to her arm here. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," she snapped. She did not want help from him particularly, though she needed it. He knelt before her, examining her arm.
"Let me help you," he insisted, reaching for her hand. Heather recoiled at first, but he took her hand anyway. "What happened?" he asked, staring at the gash in her arm.
Heather remembered about the monster that had attacked her, though she hadn't exactly wanted to. She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it," she replied, glaring at him. But he smirked at her, and somehow she knew that he had understood precisely.
"Quite a noir of a town, no?" he asked, his smirk turning into a small, charitable smile. Heather nodded morosely, and Vincent shrugged. Heather felt that it was the perfect opportunity to begin to inundate him with a multitude of questions, but somehow, she didn't. She just stared at his face, which showed her pity as he prepared to clean her wounded arm.
Heather winced as the iodine stung her injured arm. The pain became more intense, and she moaned slightly. Vincent glanced up at her before continuing. Frustrated, Heather yanked her arm away. "Christ, that hurts!" she cried angrily.
"Sorry," replied Vincent, adjusting his glasses. Heather hesitantly lent him her arm again, and he began to bandage the wound, more tenderly than before, as if her scolding had made him more mindful of her throbbing pain.
Soon he was finished, and Heather's throb had gone down to more of a dull sting. Vincent smiled at her. "There you go," he said.
Heather stared at him. "Thanks," she uttered, feeling a bit guilty for being so ungrateful towards him. "Really. Thank you."
He smiled, angled his head slightly, adjusted his glasses again. "You're welcome." He kissed her cheek before standing up and disappearing into the fog. Surprised, Heather blushed, not exactly understanding what had just happened.
After a moment's recovery, she stood up, and began down the road once again. She smiled, placing her hand to the back of her head and running her fingers through her short hair.
"What a weird guy."