worthallthis | The Last Voyages: IC Inbox

[She rolls her eyes, but though she doesn't give him her hand, she does hike up her shirt, showing him the long bandage running from her upper hip to the edge of her bra. The bleeding doesn't look out of control, but it's to the point of seeping through the bandage in multiple places.]

Just needs to be changed, that's all.

And this didn't happen in a fight?

[B sounds doubtful. And kind of concerned.]

It's a shitty angle to do yourself. Probably why it's seeping already. Would you let me do it up for you?

[Shaw grimaces, and hesitates, trying to decide which answer is going to net her the least amount of fussing.]

-- Fine.

[She finally says, rolling her eyes and turning to head into the cabin.]

But you're not gonna like it.

I mean, if you're bleeding all over the deck, yeah, I'm not gonna be super happy about it.

[He follows her into Steve's cabin so they at least have privacy to deal with it.]

There's a first aid kit in the bathroom. You sit, I'll grab it.

I have some bandages and antiseptic stuff in the bedroom, too.

[But she won't fight him, and she'll drop herself down heavily onto the couch, muttering under her breath about how she was not bleeding all over the deck, she's had way worse, it's not a big deal.]

[He glances at her over his shoulder, on his way to the little bathroom.]

Brought in here specifically for this? Or just in case?

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.]

[B pauses, tilts his head to get a better look, and blows out a little sigh before coming over and kneeling in front of her to get started at cleaning, first.]

Did I ever tell you I spent a year living in Africa? Little country called Wakanda. After somebody had to blow off my first metal arm, they took me in. Helped deprogram me.

No such place where I'm from.

[She says, sucking in a small breath at the sting of the antiseptic. ]

You miss it?

Every damn day. They were the best people. Also, they made me look after their goats. So you can blame them for the herd we got on board.

[He does try to be gentle, at least, when dabbing on the wounds themselves.]

But there were people there who did this sorta thing. Or who put three-inch plates in their lips and ears. A little body modification ain't gonna bother me.

[... Huh. She raises an eyebrow, a tiny little smile crossing her lips. ]

I underestimated you.

You ever think about getting something done yourself?

Nah. I've had enough needles and knives on me in my life, I've had my fill.

[He carefully wipes the last of the blood away and starts taping the worst of the cuts shut.]

Besides, it doesn't stick, really. Not unless it's really bad. The scars from the old metal arm lasted a long time, but not much else.

Because of the serum. What they did to you.

[Though when he starts actually taping the cuts shut--]

Don't.

[She says, her hand flying out to grab his wrist.]

Just a bandage on top. Not closing them up is kind of the point.

Pretty sure it'll scar anyway. But all right.

[He sets the tape strips aside and just gets some flat gauze, but he'll hold that tight to her skin, instead.]

And yeah, the serum keeps scars from sticking unless I get frozen before I can heal them up.

Please tell me no one's doing that shit to you anymore.

Oh god, no. I ain't been in cryo in years. Never doing that again.

[He knows he shouldn't even have done it after the fight with Steve and Stark, but-- hell, he can't even justify it. It was cowardice, pure and simple.]

So no scarification for me. Not sure I could let anybody near me with something sharp, anyway, so I'd have to do it myself, and I ain't really interested enough to go there.

Shaw's fingers ghost through the air above the fresh wounds, not touching but clearly wanting to.

"I just wanted to be able to feel it. At night or anyplace else where it's dark, or if the Admiral ever tosses a blindness flood our way, or something."

He swats her hands gently away, and tapes the gauze down firmly on the top end. "Not questioning you doing it," he assures her. "It's another good grounding thing, far's I'm concerned, and I'm all for you havin' as many of those as you need. I just want to make sure it doesn't get infected in the meantime."

He tapes down the bottom end, too. "You're gonna have to cut it out with all this dying, though, unless you wanna go through me fussing over you again."

"I come back every time," she tells him raising an eyebrow. "And I'm good at keeping wounds from getting infected; I've had lots of practice. Seriously, you don't need to worry about me."

"Worrying is my best skill, though," B says, only about half-serious. Killing people is his best skill. Worrying comes a close second, though. He finished up the bandage on the other two sides. "Besides, I like fussing over people. Makes me feel useful."

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