She frowned, opening the closet. "A wheelchair?" she asked, sounding as if she was trying to maintain lightness. "You gotta stop hurting yourself, Ebs."
He nodded, taking it and unfolding it. "When CWJ was overthrown, the walls were penetrated using explosives. I happened to be in an unfortunate area."
"I actually lost both my legs," he said with a frown, transferring to the chair. "I've been using prosthetics for years. I.. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. With how the technology works I don't usually have to do much. I was.. I don't know.. ashamed."
She paused, watching him in surprise as she considered him, her clear grey eyes widening slightly. She was silent for a moment before she tilted her head, giving him a small smile. "You're even cooler than I thought," she said smoothly. She reached over and ruffled his hair, but despite the lightness of her words, the action felt deliberate, a movement of gentleness. "I'm going to get a first aid kit for your shoulder. That still needs to be patched up, right?"
She went over to the doorway, going over to the bathroom to grab the first aid before returning to his side. Her fingers brushed the fabric of his shirt around the bullethole before she looked over at him. "Do you mind?"
She began to pat the wound clean, her brow furrowing. "I actually need to check your back. See if the bullet is still in you."
She pulled his shirt down gently and exhaled. "Okay. This is actually not as bad as it could have been," she said, beginning to clean. "It left you and you're still breathing okay, which leads me to think that it missed your lungs and your heart."
He would hear her laugh lightly as she worked on his back, her fingers pressing against his skin gently. "We're not that close?"
