[His arm comes swinging at her and he might have succeeded in throwing her off had it had connected, but he wouldn't be her first combative patient and she sees it coming. A quick duck of her head and his arm is behind her shoulders, which she angles in towards him, preventing his arm from coming back for another round. It puts her in its place for his support and she takes the weight with only a small grunt.
She'll treat this like a battlefield heal if she absolutely needs to, complete with thrashing and growling and keeping her distance, but she would prefer not to. It's not necessary and there's a part of her that hurts for purely selfish reasons at the thought of being pushed away, a thorny knot of grief she's never been able to resolve; only tuck away where it can cause the least amount of damage.
So let her have this, please, she begs silently. On the inside, those thorns rip at her heart, but her voice barely betrays it as she speaks to him, her tone softened for his sake.]
You're injured. I need you to let me help you. Take slow breaths, count to three.
[She presses a hand to his chest, half to help support him, half to feel for his heartbeat, not trusting her luck to try for his neck or wrist. And maybe the contact just makes her feel better, knowing she can feel it under her palm, beating hard, refusing to give up.]
I picked up what you were laying down, we're good
She'll treat this like a battlefield heal if she absolutely needs to, complete with thrashing and growling and keeping her distance, but she would prefer not to. It's not necessary and there's a part of her that hurts for purely selfish reasons at the thought of being pushed away, a thorny knot of grief she's never been able to resolve; only tuck away where it can cause the least amount of damage.
So let her have this, please, she begs silently. On the inside, those thorns rip at her heart, but her voice barely betrays it as she speaks to him, her tone softened for his sake.]
You're injured. I need you to let me help you. Take slow breaths, count to three.
[She presses a hand to his chest, half to help support him, half to feel for his heartbeat, not trusting her luck to try for his neck or wrist. And maybe the contact just makes her feel better, knowing she can feel it under her palm, beating hard, refusing to give up.]