John sat down on the couch in his room.
As it turned out, he already got his first-aid kit out.
Cordy wondered if he would’ve done it himself if she never came in.
However, she was the reason he got injured, which was why she ultimately didn’t refuse.
She took out an iodine and a tube of anti-inflammatory cream, dropping to a crouch to apply everything on the injured area—which definitely was infected.
"You should be more careful," she told him.
"It's not a spot you can always keep your eye on," John replied feebly.
Cordy didn’t argue, and went to work solemnly to disinfect the affected area.
"Ugh!" John suddenly grunted.
"Does it hurt?" Cordy asked.
"Nope," John said stubbornly—but it certainly did, because it was his inner thigh.
Cordy didn’t say anything, but she did ease the pressure.
The room was silent, but Cordy was working too seriously to notice anything else.
After she disinfected the wound, applied the cream and bandaged it, she looked up to see the strange gaze in John's eyes.
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