She looked concerned and frightened at the same time. After a moment, concern won out, and she came up to him, slipping under his arm for support. "Come on, Abel," she said lowly. "Let's get you cleaned up."
He followed her, his eyes a little glazed over. As they headed toward the bathroom he collapsed again, slipping from her grasp.
"No, no, no," she muttered, lowering him to the ground as best she could. She frowned, looking very concerned, but she sighed and grabbed a washcloth, beginning to clean off the blood.
She slipped off her coat, cushioning his head gently as she began to wash his hands with the cloth, filling the tub with warm water.
She nodded, still keeping her distance, her brows furrowed and her hands trembling as she held them up. "Yes."
Her chest was shaking as she took halting breathes, still eyeing him uncertainly. "The... the whistling?"
She hesitated before shutting off the water in the tub, standing up. "You should... you should take a bath, Abel," she said, her voice strangely tight. "You're covered in blood."
She went over to the washing and drying machines, switching the load over, her shoulders tight and her brows furrowed.
When the door closed, she hesitated, sitting on the edge of the bed, folding her hands nervously, her brows furrowed with worry. She closed her eyes, and in her mind's eye, she saw Abel's expression when he was attacking the guards. She covered her eyes, trying to block it out.
He cleaned up, coming out 10 minutes later. He had the towel around his waist, and there was a mark on his side from the prod.
