Stavanger Bay blood and wine

“To fish.”
 
“Humph,” he scoffed in response to her answer. “Not well.” An irritated glint crossed his vision for a moment but was replaced by curiosity. She seemed genuine in her response, which caused the pitch-colored titan to wonder if she knew at all what she was doing. Skellige was not in the mood to teach her, though, and with a quiet sigh, he turned to leave her to bask in the sun and “fish.” It was then that she caught sight of the wound on his nape and made a remark on it. His hackles bristled slightly and he found himself growing defensive of his own body. Showing weakness was enough to end a life on Warsaw. Instead, the inky brute was taken aback by what she suggested. She wanted to treat the wound.
 
Russet eyes snapped back to her for a moment and he gawked. His tail lifted and his ears were drawn forward atop his skull. Fixing her with his stare for the longest time, Skellige was not entirely sure where to proceed. “You can treat it?” he inquired in a rusty baritone. Brows furrowed on his forehead as he bore into her with his gaze.