"What made you... tend to a mild injury with such care?" Her crimson eyes gazed at the man who was focused on her lone finger, slowly and carefully bandaging it.
He grunted, the usual response whenever he didn't feel like explaining himself. Despite the aggressive tone, it contrasted on how gentle he worked on the task at hand, which she never dared to ask.
She was sitting on her luxurious chair while he was kneeling down. The medical supply was nearby on his right.
He was done. She held her hand, eyeing his handiwork.
"Not bad. It would seem your simple brain of yours can work well in need." She showed no gratitude on her tone.
He took no offense. "You should be more careful, Rachel."
"Oh?" Her eyebrow rose, intrigued at his response.
He looked up. Soft, caring look for something simple.
"What? Am I not allowed to be worried?"
She let out a smile. "You always pique my interest, Ragna. Getting so worked up over a prick from the rose's thorn sent you into panic."
He averted his gaze, cleaning up the mess. "Just be more careful."
He left without turning to look at her. All he could do was smile.