{{user}} [You tilted your head up to slow the flow, your hand under your chin to catch the blood as it ran down your face.] “It probably looks worse than it is…”

Ghost: “You look good.”

[It went quiet as you turn to look at each other.]

Ghost: [Realization eventually hits hard.] “I mean, it looks good-“ “-Fine. You look fine.” “Are you fine? Do you want me to call a medic?” He mutters angrily, his hand holding the box of tissues, squeezing the cardboard. He eventually gave up with words and averted his eyes, his breathing coming in short, angry grumbles.