That has yet to be seen, Mr. Stane. [Finishing with rolling his sleeves, he grabbed a set of fresh bandages and a small bowl of water to clean the wound with as he crossed to the other man. Setting it down on bed next to him, he went about carefully, and meticulously removing the bandages wrapping his chest. It’d been a few weeks since the accident, and he’d come a long way, admittedly, but…it’d been a close call between life and death, and he felt like the other man seemed to forget that sometimes.
With the bandages removed, he started cleaning away the dried blood to get a better look at the healing wound. And it was healing, despite all odds, which really wasn’t helping the rumors whispered around the small village that he garnered help from ‘another source’.]
[When Bruce begins moving the bandages, Anthony has to bite his lip to keep from making any noises betraying the slight stinging feel of the cloth brushing against his wound. His breaths leave him a little shakily when his teeth remove themselves from the skin of his mouth, but when the bandages are completely gone, he takes a tiny inhalation; trying not to move as his doctor begins working.]
… So… things workin’ out?
[Something like a laugh escapes him, but it’s a careful one; his breaths already stuttering between the usual slur of words.] Or are y’ gonna ban me fr’m ever goin’ to th’ market again? [His gaze drops slightly to the hands meticulously cleaning the crusted blood on his skin, and it’s difficult not to feel some sort of hero-worship for the guy who’s saved his life—even though part of him believes that he probably should have died that day.]
Don’t think I’d be able t’ handle tha’ very well.
By George, I think he’s got it! A round of applause! |She claps for him, smiling and laughing|
Now if only that generation thing would work in my favor. I’m sure if I told them any of that, they would not believe me. “Mother, you’re reading too many books again!” Or at least that’s what I assume they would say. |her cheeks tinge again and she playfully hits him on the shoulder|Oh hush, you.
Right, Banner’s are probably more fun and have better tea parties anyway. |She hesitates, but links arms with him| Of course, but mind you, I have to back before the clock strikes twelve.
[Anthony fans his hand over his face, his other hand waving in front of him as he shakes his head.] Good Lord, t’was nothing worth applause over— [He stops, however, a grin on his face as he waggles his brows slightly.] —although, I am enjoying yer ‘ttention.
[At the hit to his shoulder, Anthony groans dramatically, tilting his head back in mock-pain.] Y’ wound me, fair lady! Though ‘m sure your runts’d understand someday—th’ great works of Anthony Stane mayhaps strike ‘em dumb at first. They’ll believe y’. Eventually. [He begins to lead Brie along, laughing.] Aye, twelve midnight. ‘ll have y’ back ‘fore th’ crack of it, promise. Even if we’re havin’ a splendid tea party at th’ time.