[ Bigby's oddly patient for a man who has just subjected himself to liberal portion of physical violence in such a short period of time. perhaps it's because the moon is no longer fucking with his head like it had been, but he felt in control of himself. his heart was still pumping and adrenaline was still pouring through his veins, but he is oddly... content with lying in the couch awaiting his impromptu medic.

he doesn't have the heart to tell her that he is going to have the wound healed over before the night ends. it may run the risk of pissing her off for wasting her time, but hey. she was the one that is overeager to see him drop trou again. ]

Little unfair, don't you think? You're the one who was trying to choke me by my tie. Besides, it doesn't sound like you can do much to remember it either.

[ he isn't all too surprised of her gentleness, actually. the both of them may have had their moments of getting rough with one another, but he has a hard time imagining Rosalind making it a point to botch her first aid. maybe if he sasses off to her too much, but he'd like to think he's being nice right now... """nice"""... ]

Well, here's me asking. You look pretty healthy for a dead person.

[ there's no denying that the antiseptic is potent enough to make him hiss every now and then with discomfort, but he takes it like a champ (heh). when she's done cleaning him up, he merely lets out a gust of hot air blow through his nose. ]

It's just a knife wound, Rosalind. You don't have to sound like it's attractive on me or something.