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Regardless of how much it may or may not have hurt him, Étienne didn’t seem terribly bothered or traumatized, and for that she thought him brave. He seemed more concerned for her well being, and for that she thought him benevolent and selfless. She felt small, weakened by her fears. 

Her expression worsened when he spoke. ”W-w-won’ stop?” She stammered fearfully. What if Etienne’s nose never stopped bleeding? Would she never be able to look at him again? ”M-m-mebbe we fin’ Sobo?” She volunteered once again. ”Hafta make it stop,” She pressed.