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"Take off your shirt," Karen orders Frank, placing the first aid kit down on the table next to the bowl of warm water with the washcloth soaking in it.
Frank stands up to take off his shirt and opens his mouth to speak as he does.
"Don't... even go there," Karen warns, noticing the look in his eyes. "Nothing about the current situation is remotely sexual."
Frank gives her a small grin before shrugging and pulling his shirt off, throwing it to the floor.
"You're picking that up," Karen tells him, reaching down to grab the washcloth from the bowl and wring it out. "I am not your maid. And especially not in my own apartment."
"I was in the military remember. I clean up my own messes."
"Good. Because even if you weren't, you would be." Karen kneels so that she's level with Frank's chest, which is caked in dried up blood and cuts and bruises; it's actual the worst she remembers seeing. "Did you get into a fight with a bear or something? This is worse than usual."
"I'd truthfully rather not talk about it. At least not at this moment."
Karen looks up at him, cocking an eyebrow. "Now you've just made me more curious about what happened."
"Sorry, but I'm not saying."
"Alright, I won't pressure you... not now anyways," Karen smiles briefly. "Once you're feeling better I will be bugging you to find out how you got messed up this bad."
Frank cracks a smile and shakes his head. "I would be surprised if you didn't."
"Well, no need to be surprised because it's gonna happen." Karen grins. "And something tells me I may get a huge kick out of it."
Frank says nothing for some time before muttering under his breath, "Yeah, probably."