let me go
The motions are practiced, for Qrow has had to do this far too many times to count; soon enough, he has triaged the biggest wound, his brow furrowed, teeth clenched, hands working so deftly that he can scarcely breathe.
Clover watches this all somberly, his expression a mix of heartache and regret. "It's fine, you know. I'll be okay-"
"You'd better fucking be," Qrow hisses in response.
"Why are you so worried?" The question is innocent; Clover is fully confident in his recovery. He has no reason not to be.
Qrow has reasons. Qrow has been burned too many times before.
