“Hold still, please.” Ryuunosuke’s words were gentle but firm, like his grip on Barok’s hand as he wound the bandage.

Barok had a sour looking pout on his face. He watched the bandage stain red, as the Japanese lawyer tended his cut.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been throwing bottles around,” Ryuunosuke tutted.

Barok at least had the good grace to look sheepish about it. “I was in a temper.”

“And look what happened.” He stroked his thumb over Barok’s bandaged palm. “But it’ll heal alright I think.”

Barok had the good grace to thank him, as well.