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"Souvenir," Artemis remarked, smiling at him. As they turned to meet up with the rest of the team, she put a hand to her temple. He wouldn't have noticed anything out of the ordinary but for how quickly she (admittedly surreptitiously) hid it behind her back.
Almost instantaneously, Wally placed his hands on her shoulders, gently guiding her to face him. He raised a hand slowly, hesitatingly, to the gash on the side of her head, hidden just at her hairline. The archer held completely still as he brushed with his thumb at a couple strands of now-bloodied hair. She waited for him to let go of her, but for some reason he lingered there, almost cupping her face, with a delicateness that stunned her. "You're bleeding," he concluded unnecessarily, mere inches from her, worry obvious in the tension in his jaw.
"Good thing you got here in time, I guess," she finally commented, her tone an eclectic mix of offhand and grateful. Wally's eyes flickered to hers for a split second; then he abruptly pulled away. "Must've happened when Sportsmaster..." She let her voice fade away, frowning when she finally took in the gravity in his posture, his uncharacteristic solemnity.
"Can you walk?" he asked the ground. Artemis could have sworn she heard his voice quiver.
"I'm walking now, aren't I?" And we're back to jibes. I can handle that.
He barely acknowledged the statement. "Head wounds always bleed a lot," he remarked to no one in particular. Another brief glance. Even as he spoke, she felt a warm trickle of blood run down the side of her face. A slight chilly breeze picked up; she shivered at the strange sensation. Hoping her companion hadn't noticed, Artemis put on a smile and naturally, easily, grabbed his hand to drag him along. "Don't be a baby. It's not like you haven't seen a little blood before."
No, he thought. You've just never been the one who got hurt, before.