"Evelyn, where exactly are you feeling uncomfortable? Speak clearly before you cry!" Chester Yale looked at the woman who suddenly threw herself into his arms and cried like a fountain, his brows knitting into a line.
He extended his hand to lift her from his embrace, having her stand properly in front of him.
He first checked her finger that had been cut, and seeing the unstoppable bleeding, his facial expression grew even grimmer.
Taking her hand, he left the kitchen, fetched the medical kit from the room, and carefully bandaged the wounded finger.
"Chester, it's just a finger I hurt, but you wrapped up my whole hand..." Evelyn sobbed, looking at her hand, now resembling a bun, and couldn't help but laugh and cry at the same time.
"You know it's just a finger? Crying like that, people would think you got your hand chopped off." Chester's thin lips parted slightly, and he huffed coldly.
"..." Can we have a pleasant chat?
She was injured, yet he was still so sharp-tongued.
