"Does it hurt?" He picked up a cotton ball with the medical tweezers, soaked it in the cleaning solution, ready to disinfect her wound. Before pressing it on, he asked.
"It doesn't hurt," Emily Stone shook her head, her lips curling upwards, "Last time at the hospital, when you removed a bullet, you didn't even use anesthetic, and you didn't cry out in pain. My little wound is nothing in comparison..."
She appeared quite at ease, smiling with her lips turned up.
Walter Schmidt frowned, and after she had finished speaking, he gently pressed the cotton ball to her wound. Sharp pain shot through her, and Emily couldn't help but let out a hiss, as cold sweat gathered on her forehead.
"Showing off!" The man let out a cold huff, lightened his touch, quickly cleaned the wound, and then rewrapped it with a clean bandage.
Emily watched the man's skilled movements, her lips smiling despite the pain.
