Most men thought red looked fantastic on just about any woman. Having seen more than most men, he'd learned to hate red on anyone, but he found it particularly unattractive on this woman.
It wasn't serious, he was fairly sure; she'd remained conscious, and, really, head wounds always bled like this. He applied pressure, thankful the rock fall hadn't been two seconds later.
"It's okay, sir," she said, her hand hovering over his. "I can –"
"I got it, Carter," he responded. She brushed the back of his hand with her fingertips before dropping her own hand back into her lap.