1x1 with doxxenpoxxi

[Sky Kimimota]

While he waited for the woman to enter, he struggled to resist the snort bubbling up from within him. He couldn't quite figure out why, but seeing the creeping suspicion crawling in that iron gaze was amusing to him. Of course, he wouldn't put it past him for the reasoning to be he was merely crazy. Some of the things he had tried and thought were anything but, after all.
Creeping into the cardboard tunnel after her, he lowered himself until he was laying completely on his stomach so as not to accidentally bump a box with his head, grabbing the door to his wonderland of dust. Gently, he weaved it back into the folds of his gateway, it's placing once again so perfect it would leave anyone to believe what little Red had originally. With his secret once again hidden away from the wandering eye, he slowly pushed him backwards, lightly kicking open the window and lowering himself out feet first. The only sound he made was a light thud, his gloved hands immediately raising to brush off his cloak once he was standing.
"Matches? Nooooo. Here, I only rely on my night vision, and-" raising his hands from his attire, he pinned his pointer fingers to the ceiling as motion activated lights kicked on, sensing life once again within its concrete prison, "that."
"Hm, yes, some lights turned on, WOAH," he chuckled, teasing her as he casually walked in her direction, his boots sending echoes ricocheting throughout the lit darkness as his cloak lifted ever so slightly off his frame. It was easy to note her perusal of the room, but he waved it off, knowing it wasn't a bad thing and anyone in her position would do so. And he also had more important things to think about.
Passing her, he made his way over to a far corner of the room, where a single, blandly silver door resided, its size not even remotely hinting towards the vastness of the contents beyond it. It opened with a deep, rumbling creak, the only thing it revealed to those not within it's walls being tall, large metal shelves covered with things from toys to knives to furniture. Humming to himself, he kept his hands on the doorframe as he put his head inside, glancing back and forth across its innards before actually heading inside.
Moments later, he was released from its containment, holding a dusty white box with a red plus sign on it, shutting the door with his raised foot.
"I suppose you could call it my place. Thank you for the compliment, though I don't exactly look at it like a man does his heavy duty tools, if you can understand that."
Making his way over to the table on the cleaner side of the room, he dropped the first-aid kit, crossing his arms and leaning back slightly as he looked at her.
"Now, which would you prefer first? An explanation, or medical treatment, cause I'm perfectly fine with either. Though, don't expect a life story if you want an explanation, I'm chatty, but I ain't that chatty."

(I decided to play the bolding game too XP)

[doxxenpoxxi]

I resisted the urge to punch him at his teasing words. Was he really going to be that sarcastic all the time?
Eh... I guess I could get used to it.
I stood awkwardly in front of the entrance, kicking at the floor with my shoe. His words from earlier suddenly made me anxious. I really didn't want to knock anything over.
He moved past me, heading to a corner of the warehouse. Now that I think about it, I hadn't noticed the door before. After he disappeared inside, I leaned and peered through the silver doorframe. There seemed to be another room, full of shelves which seemed to be covered in... everything. "Hmph..." I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms as he appeared once again. He carried a dusty medical kit... for obvious reasons.
I hesitantly glanced down at my wound for the first time in a while. I really wish I didn't.
"Uhh..." I rubbed my arm, lowering my gaze. "Medical treatment would probably be best."

((hohoh that's rather bold of you hahahah i'm sorry))

[Sky Kimimota]

"Good! I thought you'd go with that option. Don't you need you passing out from blood loss right after I tried helping you, that would make things rather difficult for the both of us," he mused, waving it off seconds later.
Uncrossing his arms, he straightened, reaching over to grab the medical kit off the table. Lifting it to his face, he blew off all the dust, it raising into the atmosphere and forming a thick cloud of grey. Coughing, he yanked his head back, trying to swat it all away. While others would have called the act futile, it did somewhat help to dissipate it, the particles stretching out of existence and into the air.
"Okay, trying to blow the dust off was a little silly on my part." To punctuate his words, he let out a little sneeze. "Gah, you think I would've learned by now not to do that."
Flipping it open, his searching hand wandered through it, shoving aside band aids and the like until finally he extracted the needed items: bandages, tweezers to get out anything that may be lodged inside, some alcohol in case it needed to be disinfected, and a few other needed things. Setting it all down on the table, he lightly clicked his tongue before starting away again, this time towards yet another hidden away door on the unused side of the room. When he was halfway there he stopped momentarily, glancing over his shoulder at her. "I'm going to go get a wet washcloth and some soap. If you want to get any debris out yourself, go ahead. If not, I'll be back in a few minutes."
With that, he disappeared into the new room, shutting it behind him after only revealing a shut wooden closet with a bucket or two next to it along with a mop and broom.

(That actually made me laugh XD)

[doxxenpoxxi]

((i think i'm going to change POV's. i'm tired of writing "i" so much lol))

She stifled a laugh as the thick dust billowed into the already stale air. "Gesundheit." A few particles of dust floated towards her, tickling her nose and causing her to sneeze as well. Ugh, karma.
Hearing the door shut, Char eased herself into the center of the burgundy couch. It was rather uncomfortable, and she found herself awkwardly wiggling around trying to find a spot without a broken spring. Finally content with her seat, Char grabbed the tweezers from the table, wiping them with rubbing alcohol first. Who knew where they had been before.
Grimacing, she brought her leg up to the table, resting her foot on the edge. She eased the legging up past the wound, folding it a few times above her knee.
The wound was rather nasty up close; there was hardly any shrapnel. Only a few metal bits from the trap.
It was nothing Char hadn't done before; admittedly, the first time she had a run-in with shrapnel, she had no first aid kit. She had to use her fingers. Nothing would be more painful than that.
Gritting her teeth, Char dug the tweezers into the wound, pulling out the pieces bit by bit. Upon closer examination, the metal seemed fairly rusted, which meant that the wound was most likely infected. The blood was oozing a nasty, indescribable color now... it had been a good few hours that the wound had been present.
"Dammit, Char..." she growled at herself, perhaps a bit too loudly, as she pulled out the last (and largest) piece of shrapnel. They were all lined up on a paper towel on the table, ironically neatly.

[Sky Kimimota]

Minutes after walking in, he was exiting again, a moist washcloth in his hand along with a medium bottle of soap. Glancing at her wound, he stopped a few steps away from the door, now truly noting the severity of it. With a small toss of his head, he turned back around to the room again. This time, he carried one of the buckets in his hand, suds greatly apparent as they dripped down the side in a few spots, two washcloths instead of one in the other hand.
Careful not to slop the cleaning liquid all over the floor, he set it on the ground beside where the woman sat, dunking a washcloth in it immediately.
"Don't worry, I didn't use floor cleaner or anything, I used actual soup. But it does smell like pine," he joked, cracking a wide smile that revealed his white teeth, the canines slightly sharper than the average human. "Now, do you want to wash it yourself, or do you want me to have the pleasure of wiping off the...blood I think?" he asked, narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure out what was oozing from her leg.
"I've seen my share of wounds, but that's nasty."

(Okay, mine's really short DX)

[doxxenpoxxi]

Char's hand shot out. "Lemme do it." While the very idea of touching the wound with a rough cloth made Char want to vomit, she figured it would've been worse if she asked the man to do it. Grabbing the washcloth, she began gently cleaning around the wound.
"My name's Charlie, by the way. But you can call me Char." She made a feeble attempt to keep conversation going, her voice wavering as she accidentally touched a sensitive spot on her wound. She retracted the cloth as her leg jolted from the discomfort. An expression of pain crossed her face, mostly glazed over with annoyance and anger. It happened a few more times, making her eyes sting with hot tears that refused to fall. The wound was becoming irritated now, a hue of reddish-pink appearing around the wound. As much as she hated to admit it, she was not very good at this.

[Sky Kimimota]

Snorting, he rolled his eyes, choosing not to care about the urgency in which she had yanked them from him, as if deciding him helping her in that way was the worst idea in the world. It wasn't uncalled for in any way, so it was easy to accept.
"Man, aren't you being rough with yourself," he murmured, leaning against the arm beside her. He wasn't a trained medical personnel, but the force was apparent in her face and actions, not that the cloth was exactly the softest thing in the world. Though, he supposed it was needed, light, dainty touches not going to do jack for her.
"The name's Machioborus, my original caretaker had a thing for old sounding names, but you can call me Mach or Machi."
Seeing her suffer enough, he lifted himself yet again ( ), strolling over to the original door he'd gone through. Shuffling around was heard this time, quickly followed by the sound of something falling to the ground with a crash and a quiet but still decipherable curse. With an awkward laugh, he appeared, carrying an unopened jug of water and container of pills.
"Here, these will help with your pain at least somewhat. Don't worry about the expiration date, these things can go for much longer," he said, setting the jug of water and pain pills on the couch. Making his way over to the table, he grabbed the bandages, returning to her side.
"Are you going to want to do this yourself again, or will you actually tolerate the touch of a man?"

[doxxenpoxxi]

Char glanced up, watering eyes locking with his own. He was right; the sight of the wound made Char irritable and angry, and it showed in her jerky movements. She rubbed the tears away from her eyes, lowering her hand and sighing, leaning against the couch. Who knows how long this wound would take to heal... It wasn't bad enough to need stitches, but it was still pretty bad. Until then, it might restrict her movements. Which meant no running, jumping, or sitting in certain ways... She grunted. That would take some getting used to, seeing as running was her favorite pastime...
Char didn't answer at first. "Here." she spoke softly, holding out the rag to him. It was the right thing to let him do it; it was obvious that he was more skilled at this, and would probably be more gentle about it, too.
Leaning forward, Char grabbed the bottle of pills and threw a few in her mouth. She went to grab the jug of water, but hesitated. "I hope you don't mind. I don't exactly see any cups around here." Char spoke around the pills. Unscrewing the cap, she swigged a few drinks of the water, swallowing the pills in the process. Sighing with a refreshed ahhh, she put the water back down. It was the coldest water she'd had in a while, and the pain medication started working almost immediately.

[Sky Kimimota]

For the hundredth time that day, he couldn't help himself, eyebrows nearly shooting up into his hairline. She wanted him to help her clean her wounds? While he supposed he would be gentler and more practiced with his actions, his need to explore any and all alleys getting him in quite a few unhappy predicaments, it wasn't like it was quite clear to her. The most she had was the connotation of his voice and actions, but maybe actually experiencing his abilities first hand would help the trusting issues that rang more strongly through her than himself.
"Oh, you actually want me to help you with this part? I have to admit I'm slightly surprised, but I'll do it none the less."
Grasping the rap from her, he dipped it into the slowly darkening bucket, wringing it out immediately before beginning to delicately dab at the oozing parts instead of wipe. "While I may be just a bit more experienced, don't expect to get out of this pain free, or we're gonna have a bad time. Okay?"
Now less irritated at the lack of wiping, the infected spots slowly stopped oozing until it came out everyone once in a while, when he would instead move over to the less serious areas. Around the edges he would be slightly more forceful, the skin less damaged there, but around the middle where it wasn't really oozing, he would gently wipe it over. Not too feather light so as not to get anything done, but not hard enough to cause as much pain as she had been in. Eventually, the wound stopped oozing completely, just a little puffy and red at the feeling of being disturbed.
Tossing the rag back into the bucket, he straightened with a little stretch, unwinding his muscles that had been scrunched up in focus.
"See, all better! Now, do you want to do the dressing, or shall I?"

[doxxenpoxxi]

She crossed her arms, looking down at the lavender, floral rug beneath her. "Whatever. You can do it." Char mumbled, just loud enough for Mach to hear her. She hated to admit it, but he was much more gentle than she was. Gentle-looking, gentle-acting... That might've been a bad thing. She watched him out of the corner of her eyes, careful not to let him catch her looking. His hands even looked much more delicate, like they were made to do things like dress wounds and stitch them up again. Unsatisfied with that idea, Char glanced down at her own hands for comparison.
While they were still feminine and slightly graceful, her hands were layered with tough callous from growing up in thw woods. The same was with her feet; she hadn't found shoes until years of walking around barefoot. When she did come across some, though, they seemed uncomfortable and itchy. She ditched them afterwards.
Her hands were built for manual labor, like lifting, building, and handling sharp objects, such as weapons, tools, or even sticks and rocks.
Char huffed to herself, looked back across the room. She had lost herself in thought again, probably staring down at the rug, or, even at Mach. She did that sometimes when she came into town, which frightened some of the people who had caught her staring. Char flushed red in embarrassment at the memories, trying to shake them from her mind.

((i tried ahh))