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Staring at the pricked thumb, Zanka wished he had brought a handkerchief.
He also wished, someone had told him beforehand, if they were about to help Rudo activate his choker.
Well, he should have anticipated this too, being Rudo's trainer and all.
Sooner and later, his pupil would need to get his own choker to communicate. He hadn't had the opportunity to explain it to Rudo yet, and somehow Rudo is now wearing one—a slightly horrified face as everyone put the bloody fingers on the device.
Zanka had the honor to be the the second Rudo gave the blood to; Enjin being the first for literally taking him under his wings.
Everyone was busy lining up, to get the drop of Rudo's blood on them, when Enjin nudged him by his shoulder, signalling him to get away from the crowd for a while.
Zanka gave him a questioning look, but followed his lead.
They didn't get too far, as to not raising suspicion, but there was an adequate distance for them to have a private conversation.
Private conversation about what, Zanka hadn't gotten any clue yet.
"What is it?" He whispered, naturally lowering his voice. Zanka was used to Enjin pulling him aside, to talk about strategies or plans discreetly.
But Enjin didn't say anything.
Instead, he casually grabbed Zanka's wrist; catching him off guard, diminishing the split second in which Zanka could easily dodge the touch.
"Just what I thought," Enjin tsk-ed, lifting Zanka's hand.
Only then, Zanka realized that Enjin had examined the fingers of his—more specifically, the thumb that he had pricked so he could give his blood to Rudo.
"It's not that bad," Zanka attempted to pull away, chuckling to himself because it was very embarrassing that Enjin noticed his discomfort and decided to confront him.
"You've always been so sensitive," Enjin murmured, inching closer to Zanka's palm that Zanka almost believed Enjin would do something extreme like kissing his cut better or something.
The sudden thought was enough to trigger the warmth hijacking his face.
"I'm not that fragile, Enjin," Zanka deflected, trying even harder to escape from the older.
Enjin held him firm, with no trouble, as he rummaged through his bag, fetching a bandage.
Zanka widened his eyes.
"This is too much," he protested. "It's just a cut, Enjin, I'm not bloody injured or anything—"
Enjin didn't appear to listen to any word he said, he quietly put the bandage on, carefully wrapped it around Zanka's delicate thumb; even with enough power to keep him still.
"You used your hand for your vital instrument," Enjin examined the bandaged thumb, making sure he had wrapped it safely. "It can be very uncomfortable if you cut your hand."
Zanka flustered. It wasn't even his whole hand. It was just a fraction of it, only his thumb.
And, yet.
Enjin pulled him aside, to put a bandage on him, like he was some high-maintenance royal or something.
This was so humiliating—until Enjin lifted his hand once again.
To lay a feathery kiss upon the fingers.
"All done," he grinned.
Zanka looked away, didn't have the energy left to grumble, since everything had been sucked into the blushing factory that was busy producing more red on his face.
He pretended, he didn't see the self-satisfied smirk perching on Enjin's lips over the little antic. Enjin had already too much power, Zanka didn't need to stroke his ego even more.
Enjin didn't mind though.
He just casually put the rest of the bandage back to his bag, before his hand stealthy turned Zanka's hand around, anchoring him to his.
Zanka didn't miss how Enjin gently rub the freshly bandaged thumb, in a silent, comforting way.
Zanka hated how easy it was for him to cave in.
He tightened their hold; Enjin squeezed them in response.
Zanka did wish he had brought his own handkerchief, but honestly, having Enjin's hand wrapped around his, had never not been the better option out there.