Uh-- both, actually. I picked up the antiseptic from my place this morning, but I had some bandages in here already.

[Look, she tends to get hurt a lot, okay? It's part of the job. Two deaths in two months is probably the start of a pattern, not an outlier.

Careful to avoid any drippage, she starts peeling the bandages away from the knife tattoo: the same Morse Code message that she has on her wrist, stretching all the way up her side. It's clearly been done well, and should heal up into a good set of scars with no issue as long as she keeps taking care of it - but it's also brand-new, and looks pretty gnarly just by virtue of that fact.]

Don't freak out or I'm leaving.

[She warns him, when he comes back into the living room.]