He carried bandages in one hand while pointing to his bed.
Scaramouche
"Damn, I get it you're hurt, but it took you an hour to bathe? Damn."
You
"Well... That's how long I usually take to bathe. I thought everyone took long."
Scaramouche
"An hour?! The most I'd say is at least 30 minutes or less... Anyway, we're gonna start by cleaning the ones on your torso."
He lifted your worn light grey t-shirt, which had formerly belonged to a prisoner who had been sentenced and executed. You started to feel embarrassed since he had been looking at your body for quite some time.
He gave you a brief glance before turning around to retrieve the towels and hydrogen peroxide.
Scaramouche
"This part is supposed to hurt."
You
"Yeah, no shit."
You only got two scratches on your lower torso, which wasn't too bad. Because one was on top of the other, you'd only have to endure this anguish once, and both could be cleaned in a single sitting.
Scaramouche
"... Are you ready?"
You nodded your head, staring at the cloth that had hydrogen peroxide which was being held in Scaramouche's hand.
He eventually placed it on the scrape, applying pressure on it as slowly as he could. You took a sharp inhale and strained your eyes away from Scaramouche, hoping he wouldn't notice. He did, however, notice. In any case, your reaction was just too apparent.
Scaramouche
"Sorry. I know it hurts, but if it gets infected then you die, and if you die, then I'll be punished."
As he removed the cloth and treated the injured area, he said. He did the same process to both of your arms, and you had quite severe injuries around the elbows and upper shoulder.
The hardest part was when he started cleaning the scrapes around your face since you couldn't take your eyes away from him at this point. In fact, you had to look him in the eyes so he could clean the scratches correctly.
Every time the cotton swab touched your face, you slightly tilted your head away from Scaramouche's hand. You didn't care about the pain any longer; you simply didn't want Scaramouche to look at you.
Scaramouche
"Jeez, are you about to start crying?"
You
"No, I'm not." Yes, I am.
Scaramouche
"Are you sure? You look like it."
There was just one more wound on your face that he needed to clean and bandage before applying the bruise cream to help them recover faster. Instead of tightly shutting your eyes and turning away, you blinked quickly and scrunched your brows slightly, wincing every time he placed the cotton swab against your face.
He did it softly, which startled you. You anticipated him to clean your wounds in the most agonizing way possible, but it didn't seem that way anymore.
Scaramouche
"And... There we go."
He applied a square bandage on the wound on your face, directly below your eye. You began to feel it with your hand, pressing on it to ensure its stability. All of your muscles had been tense throughout the cleaning procedure, and now that it was finished, you could relax them.
Scaramouche began to clean up all of the bloody cloths and materials he had used, returning them to the first aid bag he had found downstairs by chance.
Scaramouche
"Alright..."
You were already asleep on your side in his own bed when he returned to his room to bring you downstairs. You didn't even bother snuggling under his blanket; all you wanted was a proper bed to sleep on.
Even if Scaramouche's mattress seemed a touch firm, you hadn't felt this relaxed in days.
Scaramouche
"You son of a bitch... Hey, that's my bed!"
He stomped over to you, shaking you repeatedly to wake you up, but you didn't. You slept with a smile on your face, and you've never felt more at ease.
Scaramouche
"Come on, it's time to wake the fuck up, Y/N!"
You mumbled and began rolling through his blanket, all warm and snug now.
Scaramouche
"No! I made my bed look all nice and clean and you just ruined it!"
You
"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." *Yawn*
Scaramouche
"And I'll let you know that you are not allowed to wrap yourself in my blanket! Only I get to do that!"
He began to unroll you and then grabbed your stomach from behind in an attempt to pull you off his bed playfully, which resulted in him applying pressure to your wound once more, and you were hurt instead.
You
"Ow!"
Scaramouche
"Shit, shit- I'm sorry!"
He carefully put you back down on the bed, checking to see whether your stomach was fine.
Scaramouche
"Ah... My bad, I didn't mean to."
You
"It's fine."
You said as you softly placed your palm over the bandaged wound.
Scaramouche
"I know that you finally have some proper bed to sleep in, but I'm not allowed to keep you in here. I've gotta bring you back downstairs."
He carried you on his back once more, returning you to the same cold chamber with the rolling table. Scaramouche, on the other hand, did not confine you to the rolling table. At least not yet.
You sat at the table, rubbing your hands together, trying to stay warm. Scaramouche left you alone in the room while he went out to grab something. You were startled that he just left you there without restricting you to the rolling table, despite the fact that he was well aware that you might escape at any time.
You couldn't precisely escape just yet; you needed to recover first.
Scaramouche
"I'm back. It's fresh from the dryer, so it should keep you extra warm."
You had just realized Scaramouche's other blanket was missing; it appeared that he had washed it so that it was fresh for you to use. He sat next to you on the rolling table, which was fortunately on the brakes, and wrapped you in the blanket, making sure it covered both of your shoulders and your back.
It was warm, as it was fresh out of the dryer, and you felt as at ease as you had in Scaramouche's bed.
Scaramouche
"Hey."
There was a long silence, but you were distracted and staring at the floor, so you didn't notice the awkwardness. Scaramouche, on the other hand, found it rather awkward, so he began glancing about the room, waiting for the tension to eventually break.
He caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye and reached out to grasp it, desperate to quit being so awkward.