32. Scars
Millie opened the door to the darkened room, shifting specks of sand rolling ahead of her wake. Humming slightly to herself, she crossed to the bedside table and set down the tray that held Knives' dinner. Tonight it was tomato soup to go with Knives' usual portion of utmost disgust and unyielding hatred.
After arranging the utensils and napkin on the tray, Millie turned her attention to checking Knives' dressings. Deft fingers peeled away bandages to examine the puckered red flesh beneath, replacing and redressing where needed. And as usual, she ignored Knives' hissing flinches of revulsion every time she came in contact with his skin. Once the gauze and tape were smoothed down, Millie turned to leave. But at the doorway she paused.
"It looks like those wounds are healing nicely, but I'm afraid they're probably going to scar," she stated without turning around. A stiff silence permeated the room, almost like Millie thought Knives would answer.
"Scars…" Millie murmured thoughtfully, her head dipping slightly as she grasped the doorknob. "I suppose that means you and Mr. Vash really are twins now."
Later, it would take Millie hours to stitch up the wounds that Knives reopened.