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His amusement fades as he takes in my bleeding arm.
“What in God’s name happened to you?” he demands. In a few strides, he’s in front of me, grabbing my arm to inspect it.
“Why isn’t it healing?”
“W-what?”
“Why isn’t the bleeding stopping?” He clears his throat.
“I… Well, I was looking for a bandage,” I admit.
“This looks grisly,” he mentions with a grimace. “Come.”
I don’t have time to protest as he seats me on a chair at the back of the room so we’re far away from the patient ward. He looks through the cabinets until he finds a roll of bandage and some disinfectant and then he’s back at my side.
“How did this happen?” he asks as he pours the disinfectant over my wound.
I purse my lips as I think of what lie to concoct. The wound is clearly in the shape of an odd symbol, so it’s not as if I can tell him I accidentally cut myself. It looks on purpose.
“I was playing with a knife and didn’t realize how sharp it was,” I lie.
Then again, I also did not realize how slow my healing would be now that I’m without my spiritual energy.
“You dummy,” he mumbles. “You could have hurt yourself so bad.”
“Dummy?” I narrow my eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His lips quirk up.
“It’s nothing bad, tiny darling.” He winks at me.
“Stop calling me that,” I grumble.
He smirks.
“What should I call you then? Minerva or… Mina?”
“M-Mina,” I say and gulp down uncertainly. “It’s Mina.”
“Mina?”
“Yes. Do you have a problem with it?”
“Doesn’t really suit you,” he mentions.
What? It doesn’t suit me?
I glare at him.
“Now don’t take this the wrong way, tiny darling.”
“How am I supposed to take it when you’re telling me my name doesn’t suit me?”
It’s a pretty name. Prettier than Minerva anyway. But now his words are making me doubt it.
He chuckles.
“Mina is much too tight-laced and somber when you’re anything but that.”
