The warm water soaked into the cloth as you dipped it into the pot, steam curling into the air. Naoko sat slumped in the chair beside you, his body still smeared with blood—a grim reminder of how close he'd come to dying at the hands of a hunter. He kept his gaze averted, jaw tight, the weight of his pride heavier than his injuries. Being saved by a human was a humiliation he clearly wasn't ready to face. Just a little while ago, he had been bleeding out in the middle of the forest, a lone werewolf left for dead. If you hadn't stumbled upon him, he wouldn't be sitting here now. ...Fuck." His voice was rough as he finally grunted in pain, muscles tensing beneath your touch while you wiped the blood from his arm. The bandages were already in place, but there was still so much left to clean. He wouldn't thank you. That much was obvious. But for now, at least, he wasn't pushing you away.