[ the walk from the living room to the bathroom sure is a lot longer when you're barely walking. but to his credit, he tries, dragging each foot little by little with keith's continued coaxing. the conversation is a welcome distraction; he almost forgets how his bruised ribs object to all the talking. ]
No no no. [ he certainly sounds a bit like he's drunk, words slurring slightly, but it's just the lightheartedness talking here... ] Band-aids. Band-aids. I got us all hamster ones, because they're kinda like the space mice, you know?? I figure it might help make Allura feel a little less outnumbered.
[ because they're dumb boys.
anyway, lance sighs heavily, head lolling slightly against keith's temple. ]
[That's...sweet. Thoughtful. Lance has always been in his obscure Lance Ways. He may've cracked a smile under other conditions -- or made fun of the idea, under other conditions....
Once they've reached the bathroom, he'll quietly set him down on the (lidded) toilet bowl, inwardly unsure about whether he should even use the hamster band-aids if they're a coping mechanism for Allura? He did request them by name, but like...]
Alright, I'll get you some water if you start talking about what happened.
[Which isn't true, because he's already moving to the sink, filling a small paper cup with cold water from it.]
Did you... [.....] fall down?
[He falls down a lot, right? Maybe he should check his breath for realsies.]
[ lance contemplates that question for a long time. or, at least however long it takes for that cup to be filled, which feels like a long time to a dehydrated man. it's only when he sees it filled to the brim (and then some, pay attention keith don't waste water) that he realizes he should speak. ]
Yeah.
[ ... i mean it's technically true. he keeps watching the cup, clearly waiting for it to come closer. he doesn't really want to risk lifting any arms at the moment, especially now that he's sort of settled on the toilet as he is. ]
[That's ok; Lance's arms are currently a little...scary, so he's bringing the cup directly to his mouth, propping the rim against his lower lip, tilting it up just a bit.]
Who kicked you?
[His face is starting to fall; don't make him regret helping you....if this is about some bullshit pickup line he's gonna be so disappointed.]
[ brb he's gonna just chug the whole thing first, thanks. he hadn't realized just how thirsty he was till that first drop of water touched his tongue, but to be fair he'd been out all day, saving all kinds of lives... playing all kinds of arcade games...
but once he's downed the thing he's licking at his lips, contemplating asking for a second cup... maybe he should pace himself. can you get over-full on water?? ]
I didn't really get her name.
[ he sighs, and no it's not the love-struck kind of sigh one might expect from lance when he's talking about a girl. there's a sharp frown on his lips, a deep furrow to his brow even as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the wall. it's a meager attempt to try and crawl back towards that rest he'd been looking for earlier. ]
A bunch of the new people that woke up... some of them were in pretty bad shape in that simulation. I think she thought we all betrayed her or something... She was pretty mad.
[Nope. There's a thing called water poison and if anyone would somehow achieve that level of too much water via dixie cup, it would be Lance. The cup finds a place by the sink, and while Keith's listening, he's also starting to tug his shirt up -- the end goal is removing it. Gotta check out the extent of this bullshit.
Even if he ended up getting the shit kicked out of him by way of horrendous pickup lines, he...can't just leave him like this ok. He's already contemplating revenge. This mystery person's lucky he can't gauge how much blood Lance has lost due to his mallgoth attire; he can only make note of that frown.]
So you and a bunch of other people got beaten up for no reason?
[Rather than skeptical, he sounds increasingly ticked off.]
[ lance isn't too out of it that he would miss the anger in the other boy's voice, but he actually misunderstands that it's directed at himself. to be fair, he had been pretty stupid back there, acting more like the red paladin than he would have liked— ]
No, it was just me.
[ —but at the time, he couldn't really afford to stop and wait for any back up. ]
And I wouldn't say it was for no reason, either... She really thought she was betrayed. [ the water worked to rejuvenate him a little, but already he can feel a bit of his words begin to slur together. he's completely still as keith tugs on his shirt, too tired and beat to really care. save for a couple of cuts, it's the bruising that's really all that concerning, almost his entire torso looking like some kindergartener fingerpainted purple all over it. ]
Anyway I tried to talk some sense into her but she wasn't really having it, so then I tried to hug her to get her warm to snap her out of it [ LOOK he was told that's how they could help okay?? ] but she was having that way less.
[Not really wanting to move his arms all about, he'll just kinda rip whatever he can't easily slip off. The shirt's a wash anyway. The gash on his arm is most notable -- he may even pale slightly upon sight. It's not that he's sensitive to gore, blood or anything of the sort. He's just...
Momentarily not sure what to do. He should probably be at a clinic right now, and there he goes slurring again.]
But she wasn't being betrayed.
[Firmly, though he wasn't there to witness anything. He knows Lance well enough to know he's not an asshole. While he continues on, Keith leans himself over to the medicine cabinet which is stuffed with more of Lance's beauty care products than anything else. Somewhere in there is a potion from Lysa from way back at the outpost. It's something he never used, partly because he's naturally suspicious of weird bullshit...and partly because he's never had to.
He'll work the cap off with his teeth, spit it to the side and spread a bit of the liquid content between his index and middle fingers.]
Yeah, probably don't do that to someone who hates you.
[Keith, giving advice on hugging. When to: the do's and don'ts. He'll be gently smearing the liquid over the oozing gash in the meantime, trying to be featherlight with his touch but also practically trying to seal it up with the stuff. He's not sure how it works, but applying it directly is plan A.]
--- This might sting.
[Again, he doesn't know. Probably should have given a head's up ahead of freaking time.]
I couldn't not do something. [ in the end, that's the whole of it. sure, he would have preferred to just talk it out, as is his nature, but well that wasn't looking likely, he had to do what he could. in the end, it all sort of worked out, and he definitely isn't quite as bad as he could have been.
he quiets when keith leans down to tend to the wound on his arm, expression scrunching up slightly. the ointment is unrecognizable to lance, but it has a shadp, crisp smell that he doesn't automatically trust. still, he trusts keith, and so doesn't put up a fuss when he starts applying it—
but he's definitely wishing he'd given out a good warning befofe hand. hissing, lance jumps in his seat a little, hands flying down to grip at the edge of the porcelain. it just reopens that wound again, tbh, but the ointment is... slowly but surely doing something about it.
he gives keith a Look, as if he were annoyed... but tbh it's more that the pain has brought him back to the present a bit more, and he's angry at himself for not looking a little tougher in front of him. hmph. ]
[But not sorry enough to back off outright; if it stings, it...must be working. He can't truly tell because he's now oozing more blood...]
Just try to relax.
[While doubledipping and applying more of that magic ointment to the gash. Sit Goddamn Still probably wouldn't blow over well; he's similarly frustrated-looking, but not at his patient. He's just ill-prepared for this, and still pretty pissed at the mystery girl.]
Try to focus on... [What does Lance like? Girls, particle barriers? He always thought that was kinda weird.] ...the hamster bandaids.
[He'll stop picking on that particular wound with that, moving onto some others that vary from superficial to borderline concerning. He'll take a break once his fingers run dry.]
What else hurts?
[Breathing? Moving a certain way? Don't mind him while he blatantly stares at your bod for more info.]
[ it takes lance a couple of moments to remember the hanster bandaids, somehow having forgot all about mentioning them from the get-go. in the end, it's the thinking about thinking about them that actually distracts him from the aches, instead of the actual bandaids themselves.
relaxing a bit now, he tries to finally take stock of himself. apart from his arm, no other limb seems to really be in any rough shape. he'd sprained his ankle there for a bit (again) but it seems to have healed up just fine by now — or maybe just the pain of it pales in comparison to everything else.
a deep breath, and then a pause. ]
I think my ribs are bruised.
[ you're not jamming that ointment downhis throat, though.... ]
[Lance seems mostly intact, yeah. He hasn't seen what's going on below the belt, though...and he's not sure how accurately Lance can provide a report on the whole thing. He'll kneel down onto one knee and start to undo his boots -- or whatever footwear he uses while on patrol.]
Bruised or broken?
[He looks up for a split second, then proceeds to wiggle the boot from his foot. It happens once more with the opposite.]
[ there is a lull between keith's question and his response, seemingly distracted by the strangely tender removal of his boots. in the interim, he takes a couple of deep breaths, contemplative. ]
...Bruised.
[ if they were broken, it would hurt a lot more, wouldn't it?
there is a long pause, eyes stalling over keith's hands in the fading light. ]
[He's still not sure how reliable Lance's assessment is. Broken, bruised or cracked, it can be difficult to tell apart the differences. Good thing he's got a magic potion that may or may not be digestible.]
No. [It's a kneejerk response while gauging the condition of his pants in relation to damage. They don't look so rough, but he'll...further determine what's going on there in a minute. For now, he'll stand, cap the potion, slip an arm under Lance's with an upward motion, suggesting he stand up once more, free to rely on Keith to hold him up.] I wouldn't let you die.
[You're like his BEST FRIEND dude...come on. come on man.]
[ it all hurts a little too much to feel like death; wasn't that supposed to be one sweet release? and though he had felt a flare of that fear, there had been something infinitely comforting in keith's presence that hadn't allowed the fear to linger. especially not after hearing such conviction in the other boy's tone.
still, he can't help but babble. up on his feet now, with blood and oxygen rushing back up to his brain, his lightheadedness makes his already instinctual lack of filter that much more unavoidable: ]
For a second, though — for a second I thought I was.
[ once more he leans heavily on keith, using the shorter boy for full support. once more their faces are mere inches apart, and his eyes are left to stare intently wherever they could fall. ]
And then I thought, If I was gonna die, there's definitely something I wanna do before I never get the chance to do it anymore—.
[ and then he stops abruptly, quieting into a heavy pause. then his eyes seem to glaze over, like a visible glitch, and his expression slackens as his head begins to tilt the other way. ]
...Buuuuut I'm not. Which is — yay. Great. That's — great.
[ another pause, but much more brief and awkward. ]
[Well, he's up, and once Lance is up, he's trying to move head -- glazed-over look notwithstanding. The faster they get to the bedroom, the faster Lance won't have to worry about dying.
Because he's fine. Totally fine. He's taking that potion bottle in the hand stretched across Lance's middle, urging him forward.]
Are you alright with walking?
[His legs look fine(ish), yeah, but he doesn't look great.]
You're not dying, we're just moving to our room.
[Our; just reiterating, though, keeping would-be confusion to a minimal. He'll probe more into that once they're settled and he's not thinking about twelve (at least) different things. Do something before he dies? Get married and have too many kids, probably.]
[ lance squints at some distant spot in their path, clearly trying to make sense of something. ]
Didn't you move out...?
[ so much for keeping the confusion to a minimum. though, to be fair, having such trivial details to focus on is helping him, at least as far as keeping his head clear of his own conflicting thoughts, which in turn encourages his body to move on auto-pilot. ]
[Autopilot is fine, and their place is cramped enough where the bedroom isn't far off in the distance. It's close enough that they should reach it before Lance has enough ammo to gripe about the cold floor...he did leave his socks on....]
What? Who cares about that.
[Stop.]
I still live here. That's not even the point.
[Try to stay on topic u fool. u knave. He'll ultimately be lowered onto his bed -- the lower bunk, obviously, for obvious reasons.]
lance isn't too sure anymore, it's so hard to tell once he's suddenly horizontal, and staring up at the underside of his own bed. he remembers the last time he had this view — coincidentally the first night keith had slept on the couch. lance wound up sleeping here, only because he'd been too lazy to climb up into his own bed, of course. of course.
his nose wrinkles slightly. ]
I'm gonna have so much laundry to do...
[ who knows what kind of dirt and blood and ointment junk he's getting all over these sheets. sigh. SIGH. ]
[Speaking of laundry, don't mind Keith as he (after carefully setting the potion bottle aside...) begins undoing Lance's pants with the dexterity of a professional pants-remover. Because, while this is the most inappropriate time to be having awkward (inappropriate????) thoughts, Lance is having an emergency and this is the quickest way to put his mind at ease.
Off they go, past his ankles in a sad pile on the floor...to the side of the bed.]
--Who cares about that either?!
[Forgive him for being a little frantic. A little. He's not the kindest nurse, either, but most of his bedside manners originated from crisis-type scenarios. Like that time Shiro fell out of the sky and the Garrison wanted to stick him in isolation or whatever. Speaking of, without Shiro -- or anyone from home...besides Allura, if she counts, Keith doesn't really have anyone.
He may've broadened his horizons here with friendmaking and such, but it's not quite the same. Call his reasons selfish, but the thought of losing Lance is lowkey unbearable...so thx for giving his biggest concern a voice lol.
In the meantime, he's gonna be looking over Lance's stringbean legs, properly this time.]
[ fair... fair... lance is the one to actually voice the worry, and just because he'd felt complete comfort and trust in keith's determined answer to never let such a thing happen, that doesn't necessarily mean the other boy has moved on from the same concern. lance could definitely stand to be a bit more thoughtful...
but that's somewhat difficult when it occurs to him, quite belatedly, that he's technically laying on a bed that still strangely smells like keith (?? when did he know what keith smells like), wearing nothing but his damp socks and his blue space boxer briefs. his lips press into a thin line, and after too many long stretches of silence and intense staring, lance slowly slips his hands over his lap and just sort of... half-rolls onto his side. back to keith.
SO ANYWAY................. ]
Uh. Thanks. [ his mind sort of just scrambles for any old thing to say, but some genuine gratitude is probably not a bad place to start. it would have had to come up eventually. ] For dressing my wound and... [ taking care of him... making him feel better about not dying... ]
[It all seems fine and dandy, like he's just gonna let Lance do that. There's some clinking in uncapping the healy potion bottle. Excuse him as he applies some of the liquid to his palm and proceeds to dress his lessser legwounds; one on the back of his thigh, another at his exposed calf....]
It's not like I could have left you on the floor.
[How do u feel about his lukewarm (coldish) magic massage? ;)]
[ somehow, the fact that keith isn't making a bigger deal out of this is making lance feel like it's a bigger deal than it probably (???) actually is. and that's just so annoying. why can't be ever be happy. when will he Rest.
in any case, the sudden cold ointment against the back of his legs has him nearly jumping right off the bed. he twists around to try and swat at keith's hands, when he knows the boy's only just trying to help but good gravy man it's so cold and also it tickles. ]
[Duh, jeeze. Way to take a threat too seriously....since he's freaking out, he'll casually tend to his disgusting socks. They're Moist and horrible. He'll slip them off one at a time with minimal movement; he's till favoring the leg-half of his body, even with Lance behaving like a wild animal.]
You shouldn't be [having automatic kneejerk reactions to being groped] moving around like that.
[Pragmatically, while taking a seat at the edge of his mattress.]
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No no no. [ he certainly sounds a bit like he's drunk, words slurring slightly, but it's just the lightheartedness talking here... ] Band-aids. Band-aids. I got us all hamster ones, because they're kinda like the space mice, you know?? I figure it might help make Allura feel a little less outnumbered.
[ because they're dumb boys.
anyway, lance sighs heavily, head lolling slightly against keith's temple. ]
I'm thirsty, [ he announces.
well damn bitch me too. ]
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Once they've reached the bathroom, he'll quietly set him down on the (lidded) toilet bowl, inwardly unsure about whether he should even use the hamster band-aids if they're a coping mechanism for Allura? He did request them by name, but like...]
Alright, I'll get you some water if you start talking about what happened.
[Which isn't true, because he's already moving to the sink, filling a small paper cup with cold water from it.]
Did you... [.....] fall down?
[He falls down a lot, right? Maybe he should check his breath for realsies.]
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Yeah.
[ ... i mean it's technically true. he keeps watching the cup, clearly waiting for it to come closer. he doesn't really want to risk lifting any arms at the moment, especially now that he's sort of settled on the toilet as he is. ]
After she kicked me.
[ okay... we're getting somewhere... ]
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Who kicked you?
[His face is starting to fall; don't make him regret helping you....if this is about some bullshit pickup line he's gonna be so disappointed.]
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but once he's downed the thing he's licking at his lips, contemplating asking for a second cup... maybe he should pace himself. can you get over-full on water?? ]
I didn't really get her name.
[ he sighs, and no it's not the love-struck kind of sigh one might expect from lance when he's talking about a girl. there's a sharp frown on his lips, a deep furrow to his brow even as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the wall. it's a meager attempt to try and crawl back towards that rest he'd been looking for earlier. ]
A bunch of the new people that woke up... some of them were in pretty bad shape in that simulation. I think she thought we all betrayed her or something... She was pretty mad.
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Even if he ended up getting the shit kicked out of him by way of horrendous pickup lines, he...can't just leave him like this ok. He's already contemplating revenge. This mystery person's lucky he can't gauge how much blood Lance has lost due to his mallgoth attire; he can only make note of that frown.]
So you and a bunch of other people got beaten up for no reason?
[Rather than skeptical, he sounds increasingly ticked off.]
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No, it was just me.
[ —but at the time, he couldn't really afford to stop and wait for any back up. ]
And I wouldn't say it was for no reason, either... She really thought she was betrayed. [ the water worked to rejuvenate him a little, but already he can feel a bit of his words begin to slur together. he's completely still as keith tugs on his shirt, too tired and beat to really care. save for a couple of cuts, it's the bruising that's really all that concerning, almost his entire torso looking like some kindergartener fingerpainted purple all over it. ]
Anyway I tried to talk some sense into her but she wasn't really having it, so then I tried to hug her to get her warm to snap her out of it [ LOOK he was told that's how they could help okay?? ] but she was having that way less.
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Momentarily not sure what to do. He should probably be at a clinic right now, and there he goes slurring again.]
But she wasn't being betrayed.
[Firmly, though he wasn't there to witness anything. He knows Lance well enough to know he's not an asshole. While he continues on, Keith leans himself over to the medicine cabinet which is stuffed with more of Lance's beauty care products than anything else. Somewhere in there is a potion from Lysa from way back at the outpost. It's something he never used, partly because he's naturally suspicious of weird bullshit...and partly because he's never had to.
He'll work the cap off with his teeth, spit it to the side and spread a bit of the liquid content between his index and middle fingers.]
Yeah, probably don't do that to someone who hates you.
[Keith, giving advice on hugging. When to: the do's and don'ts. He'll be gently smearing the liquid over the oozing gash in the meantime, trying to be featherlight with his touch but also practically trying to seal it up with the stuff. He's not sure how it works, but applying it directly is plan A.]
--- This might sting.
[Again, he doesn't know. Probably should have given a head's up ahead of freaking time.]
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he quiets when keith leans down to tend to the wound on his arm, expression scrunching up slightly. the ointment is unrecognizable to lance, but it has a shadp, crisp smell that he doesn't automatically trust. still, he trusts keith, and so doesn't put up a fuss when he starts applying it—
but he's definitely wishing he'd given out a good warning befofe hand. hissing, lance jumps in his seat a little, hands flying down to grip at the edge of the porcelain. it just reopens that wound again, tbh, but the ointment is... slowly but surely doing something about it.
he gives keith a Look, as if he were annoyed... but tbh it's more that the pain has brought him back to the present a bit more, and he's angry at himself for not looking a little tougher in front of him. hmph. ]
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[But not sorry enough to back off outright; if it stings, it...must be working. He can't truly tell because he's now oozing more blood...]
Just try to relax.
[While doubledipping and applying more of that magic ointment to the gash. Sit Goddamn Still probably wouldn't blow over well; he's similarly frustrated-looking, but not at his patient. He's just ill-prepared for this, and still pretty pissed at the mystery girl.]
Try to focus on... [What does Lance like? Girls, particle barriers? He always thought that was kinda weird.] ...the hamster bandaids.
[He'll stop picking on that particular wound with that, moving onto some others that vary from superficial to borderline concerning. He'll take a break once his fingers run dry.]
What else hurts?
[Breathing? Moving a certain way? Don't mind him while he blatantly stares at your bod for more info.]
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relaxing a bit now, he tries to finally take stock of himself. apart from his arm, no other limb seems to really be in any rough shape. he'd sprained his ankle there for a bit (again) but it seems to have healed up just fine by now — or maybe just the pain of it pales in comparison to everything else.
a deep breath, and then a pause. ]
I think my ribs are bruised.
[ you're not jamming that ointment downhis throat, though.... ]
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Bruised or broken?
[He looks up for a split second, then proceeds to wiggle the boot from his foot. It happens once more with the opposite.]
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...Bruised.
[ if they were broken, it would hurt a lot more, wouldn't it?
there is a long pause, eyes stalling over keith's hands in the fading light. ]
Am I dying?
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No. [It's a kneejerk response while gauging the condition of his pants in relation to damage. They don't look so rough, but he'll...further determine what's going on there in a minute. For now, he'll stand, cap the potion, slip an arm under Lance's with an upward motion, suggesting he stand up once more, free to rely on Keith to hold him up.] I wouldn't let you die.
[You're like his BEST FRIEND dude...come on. come on man.]
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[ it all hurts a little too much to feel like death; wasn't that supposed to be one sweet release? and though he had felt a flare of that fear, there had been something infinitely comforting in keith's presence that hadn't allowed the fear to linger. especially not after hearing such conviction in the other boy's tone.
still, he can't help but babble. up on his feet now, with blood and oxygen rushing back up to his brain, his lightheadedness makes his already instinctual lack of filter that much more unavoidable: ]
For a second, though — for a second I thought I was.
[ once more he leans heavily on keith, using the shorter boy for full support. once more their faces are mere inches apart, and his eyes are left to stare intently wherever they could fall. ]
And then I thought, If I was gonna die, there's definitely something I wanna do before I never get the chance to do it anymore—.
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...Buuuuut I'm not. Which is — yay. Great. That's — great.
[ another pause, but much more brief and awkward. ]
Why am I standing again?
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Because he's fine. Totally fine. He's taking that potion bottle in the hand stretched across Lance's middle, urging him forward.]
Are you alright with walking?
[His legs look fine(ish), yeah, but he doesn't look great.]
You're not dying, we're just moving to our room.
[Our; just reiterating, though, keeping would-be confusion to a minimal. He'll probe more into that once they're settled and he's not thinking about twelve (at least) different things. Do something before he dies? Get married and have too many kids, probably.]
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Didn't you move out...?
[ so much for keeping the confusion to a minimum. though, to be fair, having such trivial details to focus on is helping him, at least as far as keeping his head clear of his own conflicting thoughts, which in turn encourages his body to move on auto-pilot. ]
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What? Who cares about that.
[Stop.]
I still live here. That's not even the point.
[Try to stay on topic u fool. u knave. He'll ultimately be lowered onto his bed -- the lower bunk, obviously, for obvious reasons.]
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lance isn't too sure anymore, it's so hard to tell once he's suddenly horizontal, and staring up at the underside of his own bed. he remembers the last time he had this view — coincidentally the first night keith had slept on the couch. lance wound up sleeping here, only because he'd been too lazy to climb up into his own bed, of course. of course.
his nose wrinkles slightly. ]
I'm gonna have so much laundry to do...
[ who knows what kind of dirt and blood and ointment junk he's getting all over these sheets. sigh. SIGH. ]
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Off they go, past his ankles in a sad pile on the floor...to the side of the bed.]
--Who cares about that either?!
[Forgive him for being a little frantic. A little. He's not the kindest nurse, either, but most of his bedside manners originated from crisis-type scenarios. Like that time Shiro fell out of the sky and the Garrison wanted to stick him in isolation or whatever. Speaking of, without Shiro -- or anyone from home...besides Allura, if she counts, Keith doesn't really have anyone.
He may've broadened his horizons here with friendmaking and such, but it's not quite the same. Call his reasons selfish, but the thought of losing Lance is lowkey unbearable...so thx for giving his biggest concern a voice lol.
In the meantime, he's gonna be looking over Lance's stringbean legs, properly this time.]
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but that's somewhat difficult when it occurs to him, quite belatedly, that he's technically laying on a bed that still strangely smells like keith (?? when did he know what keith smells like), wearing nothing but his damp socks and his blue space boxer briefs. his lips press into a thin line, and after too many long stretches of silence and intense staring, lance slowly slips his hands over his lap and just sort of... half-rolls onto his side. back to keith.
SO ANYWAY................. ]
Uh. Thanks. [ his mind sort of just scrambles for any old thing to say, but some genuine gratitude is probably not a bad place to start. it would have had to come up eventually. ] For dressing my wound and... [ taking care of him... making him feel better about not dying... ]
You know... stuff.
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It's not like I could have left you on the floor.
[How do u feel about his lukewarm (coldish) magic massage? ;)]
Don't get too comfortable.
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in any case, the sudden cold ointment against the back of his legs has him nearly jumping right off the bed. he twists around to try and swat at keith's hands, when he knows the boy's only just trying to help but good gravy man it's so cold and also it tickles. ]
How can I! What the heck are you doing?!
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[Duh, jeeze. Way to take a threat too seriously....since he's freaking out, he'll casually tend to his disgusting socks. They're Moist and horrible. He'll slip them off one at a time with minimal movement; he's till favoring the leg-half of his body, even with Lance behaving like a wild animal.]
You shouldn't be [having automatic kneejerk reactions to being groped] moving around like that.
[Pragmatically, while taking a seat at the edge of his mattress.]
Can you sit up?
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the icon is laughably accurate
aw...
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