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A cotton ball was placed over top a large, long cut. The owner of this cut flinched upon its touch; crazed, scared eyes watching as the small, cloud of white fluff became a pink and then red within a number of seconds.

“Damn it, kid,” Berz sighed. He wasn’t mad. Just… how was he going to fix this?

“I-I’m sorry,” Small mumbled; his voice wavy and pathetic. His eyes shifted around, unsure of what to pay attention to. “I-I-I couldn’t feel anythin’ — I just— Needed… I needed to—”

Berz could hear the panic in his words. His eyes looked down at his partners’ arm. It was shaking again. Another hand rose up and he grabbed it gently.

“Amorino…”

Small looked up.

The softness on the older alien’s face… The last of his four arms arose up and cupped his cheek with reserved delicacy. Small instinctively leaned into it, staring at the other with pin-pricked eyes. He was warm. And soft. And… nice. A thumb glided over the surface of his cheek lovingly.

“You have nothin’ to apologize for,” Berz said.

His touch lingered for a moment before he removed himself. The purple alien’s attention was drawn back to Small’s cut now. While the other smaller scratches were cleaned and covered with bandaids, this one was something that could not be fixed with a simple roll of bandages and gauze. He may need to see a doctor, Berz thought. But if he did that, there’s a high chance they would take Small away.

And knowing Small…

Berz mentally shook his head.

No.

He wasn’t going to give him away.

An idea floated in his mind as he stared at the laceration in the furry alien's arm. He made sure that his fingers avoided touching the wound. It was a sight for sore eyes a line of white that ran down his forearm. Deeper than a simple scratch, but not deep enough to where there was no going back. Tiny specs of red decorated the white like it were freckles. It vaguely reminded him of that one kind of mushroom Small showed him on his phone because he thought it looked 'cool.'

Luckily, Small cut the skin on the side of his forearm, rather than down below his wrist; so he wasn't at any risk of any profuse bleeding. In fact, this layer of skin doesn't even seem to be bleed much at all anymore. All that concerned the older alien now is getting it infected.

"You're mad at me." Small suddenly said.

Berz looked up at him with a puzzled look. "What?"

"You' re mad at me."

"..No, I'm not.

"That's what everyone when they're mad says,"

This fucking sucks.

An idea floated past his mind again. Should he tell Tully?

Berz stared at his partner with a look of pity. If he were mad at him, then he wouldn't have called him any terms of endearment. He would've worn the look on his face, no doubt.

But, there wasn't any use of arguing with him. His eyes then returned to the visible dermis as his other arms began to produce materials from the first aid kit beside him. The bathroom floor was a mess of spots of blood and medical supplies.

No. Not Tully

Not right now at least.