Careless, that is what Blade is. His immortality makes him act like he cannot die, which is true, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t care for his body.

Right now, he’s sitting beside you in your home, his eyes scanning every bit and details your place has whether it’s a random wilted flower on the desk or a small painting you bought despite it looking a little… out of place. But who is he to judge? He’s not an artist after all.

Blade winced as he felt you put pressure on his wound. He should be used to this by now, after all, you have tended his wounds much more than he could count with his fingers alone. But he couldn’t help it, the pain is still unbearable after all that you’ve done.

“Gently.” He says softly, looking right into your eyes as he swallows thickly.

His heart is pounding, his palms are beginning to sweat, this is odd. Blade has never felt this way before towards someone, and he’s scared. Scared that Silver Wolf might be right that he is indeed crushing on you, a medic. Someone who is tending his wounds yet his heart at the same time.