Sawtooth Spire concrete solutions to slow our decay

Weirdie's salutation was more apathetic than usual. Most interactions with her involved nothing more than ephemeral acknowledgment. Right now, her antisocial nature was not doing her any favors; recognizing her slumped, comfortless stance to ease the pain etched into her pitch face. She was tending to those wounds in the only way she knew how.
INDENTPicking up where she left off, Tatsuya invited himself closer. Shale displaced beneath his heft, standing awkwardly left broadside. Five feet apart, he examined the rippling stream. One of Kurdjuark River's lesser known watercourses? It was far steadier and – unluckily for Weirdie – much murkier. Here goes nothing.
INDENT“May I see?” No feeling highlighted his hushed voice, aware of her wretched condition. That is why he did not give her the antagonistic “the stream is going to irritate it further” or his hallmark demands of “let me see how bad you've made it. Don't you raise your lip at me young lady...Yeah, yeah. Get it out of your system. You'll be thanking me in the long run.”