Moonspear Band-aids don't fix bullet holes

He didn't want to stand here and be lectured, and yet he certainly lacked the energy to escape from the inevitable berating of her voice; she was confident in her ability to fix him and refused to let him go anywhere, whether he wanted to or not. Fine. As much as it bothered Revui to be looked after like some kind of weak-ass invalid, he could appreciate her skills. What bothered Revui the most was the fact she was injured herself — that he had caused her harm, and yet she was still willing to aid him with his own damages. It wasn't right.

How much pain are you in? she voiced, but he didn't answer. It was obvious to him that she would help him regardless of what he said, but mostly the boy was being petulant. He didn't want to accept her help — didn't feel as if he deserved it — and wouldn't offer any verbal cues. Truthfully he was still under the effect of some plant or other, the pain to his shoulder having been numbed by herbs as well as the snow. He looked away from her with a huff, but didn't say anything that might be useful.