Louis Snyder gritted his teeth and laughed, "It doesn't hurt, sister, you can continue."
Hannah let out an apparent sigh of relief, "That's good."
Hannah was gentle with her actions, yet they did little to alleviate the pain caused by sterilizing the wound with alcohol.
The brief dozen or so seconds felt like an eternity to Louis. By the time Hannah began to apply medicated dressings to his wound, his forehead had already broken out in a fine layer of sweat, and his face was pale.
Hannah brought the first-aid kit over to him, intending to treat the wound on his face. What she saw was a feeble sight of the young man.
The young man's innocent, harmless eyes showed a hint of endurance, his handsome face paled, a sight which drives pity in anyone who sees it.
She furrowed her eyebrows and bit her lip, "I'm sorry, did I apply the solution too harshly?"
Louis' voice weakened somewhat, and he shook his head, "It has nothing to do with you."
Hannah sighed with relief, "That's good."
