"Hey, don't get poetic on me," Tidus warns, though there's some colour to it, actual humour in its delivery lost somewhere in the tension of sparring personalities. "That's just what a friend told me. I'm not really sharing a piece of me in... ergh."
And his nose scrunches when he realises how weird that piece does sound out loud out of context. ...and even in. But the spell itself doesn't take much longer than that, with Tidus lifting his hands to peek to check the wound himself, and then, satisfied, wiping it down to take any blood and grit that might be there. There's no dull pain of a sore or raw wound, no skin threatening to tear. Giving it a quick wipe, he doesn't have the clean manners of a proper healer when he picks up the dry paper towels, then just lifts both wet and dry, offering, "You wanna--I dunno?"
Look, he wasn't exactly prepared, and this wouldn't be enough to completely clean Roland down. Hadn't been the intention. But there will be no scar to speak of, nothing but a mess, and Tidus takes the edge of the table, picking himself up so as to get out of Roland's way, to get off the floor, too. There's no wobble to speak of, though inwardly, he feels a little blank: healed and recovered even despite the hours of fighting not so long ago, but his body knowing his true tired state. It's not enough to get to him, and he sounds no less unimpressed when he pipes up.
"I don't know why you keep talking about me being stubborn. How about next time you ask me if I'm up for healing? Or is bleeding under the table while you're chatting to someone normal where you're from."
no subject
And his nose scrunches when he realises how weird that piece does sound out loud out of context. ...and even in. But the spell itself doesn't take much longer than that, with Tidus lifting his hands to peek to check the wound himself, and then, satisfied, wiping it down to take any blood and grit that might be there. There's no dull pain of a sore or raw wound, no skin threatening to tear. Giving it a quick wipe, he doesn't have the clean manners of a proper healer when he picks up the dry paper towels, then just lifts both wet and dry, offering, "You wanna--I dunno?"
Look, he wasn't exactly prepared, and this wouldn't be enough to completely clean Roland down. Hadn't been the intention. But there will be no scar to speak of, nothing but a mess, and Tidus takes the edge of the table, picking himself up so as to get out of Roland's way, to get off the floor, too. There's no wobble to speak of, though inwardly, he feels a little blank: healed and recovered even despite the hours of fighting not so long ago, but his body knowing his true tired state. It's not enough to get to him, and he sounds no less unimpressed when he pipes up.
"I don't know why you keep talking about me being stubborn. How about next time you ask me if I'm up for healing? Or is bleeding under the table while you're chatting to someone normal where you're from."