Rose. [ He's tense. Worried as fuck, because-- he hasn't seen anyone hurt like this in a long time. Certainly not anyone he's considered a friend, anyway (and that's a funny sort of admission, to think of her as a friend where he has no clue where he stands with her).

He swallows, licks his lips, and glances down at her wrist. Her skin looks raw and red, but healing, and he grimaces. It-- he's not a doctor, but it doesn't look infected, even if it does look rough as fuck. Painful. He lets go of her elbow and uses that same hand to scrub his face. ]

You need to at least keep this bandaged, okay? It'll just get worse otherwise. Jesus, dude--

[ Fuck, this is screwed up. This is so fucking screwed up. She told him not to freak out, and he's not, not quite, but shit, this is so fucked up. ]

The hell did you go to those assholes for, anyway? What the hell did you need so bad that you'd fuck around with those shitmongers?