Date: 2020-05-02 07:03 am (UTC)
brooklynishere: (Default)

[It takes a great deal of Spot's self control not to try and help Jack with his undershirt, he doesn't think it'll be welcomed and the last thing he wants is Jack getting pissed off and trying to leave when he's in this state.

He runs a practiced eye over Jack's chest, remembering the days he used to know that expanse of skin intimately - usually only by touch, since undressing was a luxury they rarely had time for, but he's still familiar enough that it's quick work to pick out the injuries (though there's some newer scars he doesn't know, and there's that self control again, stopping him from reaching out to run fingers across them).

He focuses instead on the unpleasant bruising mottling Jack's side, scanning for anything else that may need medical attention. He's pretty sure this is just a clean up and bandage situation, he can get those ribs wrapped up let Jack get some rest, nothing life threatening. He doesn't realise, until he makes that assessment, how tense he was with worry.

He reaches for the cloth, wringing out some of the excess water before bringing it to Jack's face and carefully beginning to wipe away the blood and grime. He works quietly, concentrating on - surprisingly - being gentle]

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brooklynishere: (Default)
Spot Conlon

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