by Caelum on March 25th, 2010, 3:53 pm
A sardonic twist curved his mouth and, after a moment, he shook his head at something. It was a feeling dampened, maybe, with his patient's reaction; and for a little while he mentally flailed about for the appropriate words, the necessary manner in which to attempt to explain the shift that had taken him upon sunrise. The vocabulary required to define what it was he had become -- and he would have agreed, painfully and bitterly, with Doc's assumption of monster -- tapped at his wrists in the dark, in the sunlight, interminably, keeping him shackled from the sky. He hated those words.
In the end, he said nothing. A squat was assumed before his patient's chair and deft fingers began to gently peel back the bandages. Once the neatly stitched wound was revealed, he reached for some cotton to clean the edges and then to reapply a sharp smelling ointment. It was not until he was rewrapping the muslin that he spoke.
"I'll give you some more of this ointment to be applied in the morning and at night. Keep the wound clean and bandaged until the ointment runs out. After that, leave the bandage off so it can dry up properly. All right?"