#[ hope for the best ahdkjsahdkjsa ]

[unladielike]

    What did he mean, 'things like this happen all the time'? Honestly, the more he spoke, the more concern would gradually seep it's way through Vivian's bespectacled features, for not even Alex would accumulate a wound this deep on a daily basis and she also happened to be a robotic engineer... but since Washi insisted, she would reluctantly push away her handkerchief back through her jacket pocket before seizing the towel he mentioned.

    "You sure it isn't a skill issue on your part? 'Cause my friend dabbles with machinery as well and I don't see her hand constantly riddled with cuts or bandages," she finally points out. Rather than complain further, however, Vivian would soon gently cup a hand from beneath his palm and begin pressing the towel to his bleeding flesh. Of course, under ordinary circumstances, she would relish the warm sensation that accompanied someone else's hand, but considering he was injured, she was more so focused on ensuring he didn't bleed out all over the floor.

    "It, uh... doesn't hurt too badly, does it?" came her eventual query after many seconds had elapsed. Not long after doing so, Vivian then brings herself to glance around the room in the hopes she might find a first aid kit lying around somewhere; after all, the cloth probably wouldn't serve as a good enough tourniquet

the   twisting   force   applied   to   a   screw   was   so   strong   that   it   caused   the   hinges   of   a   rusted   spring   to   break.   lost   in   concentration   on   the   snapping   screw,   he   failed   to   register   the   powerful   recoil   that   tore   through   his   glove,   leaving   his   flesh   wounded.   he   reached   for   a   replacement.   back   to   square   one   for   him.

as   he   began,   the   voice   of   the   female   grasps   his   attention.   he   hurt   himself   ?   cold   irises   lower,   observing   the   wound.   blood   trickled   from   the   torn   seam   of   his   saturated   glove.   a   wry   chortle   escapes   him.   how   did   he   fail   noticing   in   that   moment   ?   now   that   his   focus   diverted,   the   waning   adrenaline   promotes   a   conscious   pain   shooting   through   the   back   of   his   palm.

❛      ite⸺      ❜

he   searched   among   his   clutter   for   anything   to   tend   to   the   gore,   only   to   find   an   old   towel   that   had   been   lying   around.   it’ll   suffice.   apparently,   it   didn’t   for   the   young   woman   at   his   side.   foremost   shocked   by   her   offer,   lips   press   down   firm.   he   couldn’t   forego   the   offer.   but,   somehow   he   felt   a   burden   by   it.

❛      i   wouldn’t   want   to   soil   your   handkerchief.   don’t   worry;   things   like   this   happen   all   the   time.      ❜

she   meant   no   harm   by   insisting,   so   he   resigns.   extending   his   hand   toward   her,   he’s   mindful   to   prevent   any   dripping.   carefully   peeling   off   the   glove,   pale   digits   twitch   at   the   friction   ⸺   fine   stitched   threads   clinging   over   jagged   tears.   ❛      ⸺just   …   use   the   towel,   alright   ?      ❜