it had honestly been a little slip up. lost your footing while you vaulted, narrowly avoiding being terrorshocked. and during that scrambling, you had cut yourself pretty good on your arm.

Edgar seems to be having none of it. while his grip is gentle as he wraps the bandages around the crusted scrape, his expression suggests otherwise. looking down through his lashes, head held high with an annoyed scrunch to his nose.

“you should’ve been careful,” he chides, “look behind you when you vault.”