It's quiet enough he doesn't quite realize he's said it aloud, hunting the pockets of his scrubs for anything--kerchief, rag, scrap of paper--when he catches sight of her face. That it's paper is probably better than cloth--far as he can tell, it's salt water, and wouldn't he be an ass to soak something in that for her eyes. "Here," he says, thrusting his latest scrap paper forward, notes crumpled in his grip.
He'll make them up later. Maybe he'll actually remember it all, this time. "Just, here, you can wipe your face."
Handing it over, he digs his hands back into his pockets just to occupy them. "It's okay if you're not fine," he points out. "Do you want some company?"
no subject
It's quiet enough he doesn't quite realize he's said it aloud, hunting the pockets of his scrubs for anything--kerchief, rag, scrap of paper--when he catches sight of her face. That it's paper is probably better than cloth--far as he can tell, it's salt water, and wouldn't he be an ass to soak something in that for her eyes. "Here," he says, thrusting his latest scrap paper forward, notes crumpled in his grip.
He'll make them up later. Maybe he'll actually remember it all, this time. "Just, here, you can wipe your face."
Handing it over, he digs his hands back into his pockets just to occupy them. "It's okay if you're not fine," he points out. "Do you want some company?"