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Arvain did not slam the med kit onto the ground, nor did he huff exasperatedly as he sat to treat Vhedalis’s wounds. He was far too well-mannered and polite for that; instead, he simply oozed disapproval. Vhedalis held still obediently as Arvain began to check over his legs where he’d been bitten and mauled earlier.
“Really, this is exactly why you should be wearing proper armor if you’re going to be adventuring like this!” Arvain frowned as he gently felt Vhedalis’s leg for fractures. “Even a dire wolf can’t bite through solid steel.”
“I don’t know, I’ve seen some rather large ones. Ah, I believe that’s a fracture.”
“Here?”
“Yes. Doesn’t feel like a proper break, I don’t think.”
Arvain sighed, shifting to pull out cloth and a small bottle of alcohol from the kit. “I know I don’t need to tell you this will sting.”
Vhedalis was silent as Arvain gingerly cleaned the claw marks and gouges. As he moved to begin bandaging and splinting, Arvain sighed and started again.
“I just don’t understand why you won’t even use proper leathers. You run around in heels and - and - what even do you call… that?” He gestured at Vhedalis’s skirt.
“A miniskirt, I believe.”
“You run around in heels and a miniskirt on battlefields. You don’t even wear armor. It’s like you have a death wish, Vhedalis, one of these days you’re going to twist your ankle and fall directly on someone’s spear!”
“Mm.”
“I get that you work mostly undercover, or whatever you want to call it, but you can’t just flash some leg at a skeleton and hope it won’t cut you down.”
“Mm.”
“If you need a referral to a good armorer, I can help you out. Hell, Vhedalis, I’d even buy you a custom suit myself if I thought you’d actually wear it.”
“Mm”
Arvain frowned and looked up at him. “Are you actually listening, or are you - oh.”
He cut off as he took in Vhedalis’s face - it changed slightly as Arvain stared, closing off and gaining an edge of fear, but before that Vhedalis had been watching him with the tenderest of expressions. Arvain hadn’t had anyone look at him like that in, well… seven years, give or take.
He wondered how long Vhedalis had been looking at him like that without his noticing.
“What?” Vhedalis asked warily. “You stopped tying the bandages.”
Arvain looked down to see he had, indeed, completely stopped what he was doing. “O-oh, sorry. I’ll finish this now.”
He worked in silence, unsure what to say. Unsure what he wanted, either - Vhedalis had no business looking at him like that with how short they’d known each other, but… But. It felt good to feel… wanted.
Inspecting the finished bandaging and splinting, Arvain nodded with satisfaction at his work. He bodily lifted Vhedalis into his arms, to spluttered protests.
“Wh- Hey! What are you doing?” Despite his outraged words, Vhedalis made no move to make Arvain put him down. “I can walk by myself!”
“You have a fractured leg, and your boots not only have three inch heels, but were half-shredded in that fight. I’ll carry you over to the fire and we can see if anyone in the party has a pair of shoes you can borrow.”
Arvain didn’t wait for agreement, but Vhedalis didn’t argue with him anyways. With a huff and flushed cheeks, he just looked away and leaned against Arvain.
“Just take care not to drop me, then,” he said finally.
“Never.”