𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙵𝙻𝙾𝚆

[unjustifiable]

"Looking at this makes me feel like someone's groping around inside my skull..."

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[unjustifiable]

[ James is not particularly observant by nature, but Igarak's reaction (and subsequent attempt at deflection) are obvious enough that even he can't miss them. He lets his head fall back against the hitherto unused pillow, gazing down at the exposed wounds. The simple truth that they keep dancing around is written plainly on his skin. Denying it seems pointless, especially in light of what has just transpired between them. ]

Igarak.

[ The exasperation in his tone is tempered with fondness. He supposes that he'd be worried if Igarak didn't seem at least a little conflicted about this, but he doesn't want the man to torture himself, either. Not when they both want the same thing. ]

Do you really want me to rest, or do you just want to stop talking about this? It isn't going to go away if we ignore it, you know.

[wasisweetonce]

[ James' blood is still smeared across his face, drying. Igarak feels it pull as he smiles ruefully. ]

Can't I want both?

[ His gaze then drifts to the wounds one last time. He tells himself he's not memorizing them, but he knows it's a lie; the image is already seared into his mind, ready to be recalled later.

He closes his eyes and lays a hand upon James' chest. Blue light glows beneath his palm and blankets the torn skin, slowly knitting the wounds closed. When he opens his eyes, the skin is smooth and unmarked. He smothers the pang of loss the image incites and forces himself to meet James's eyes. ]

I know you woke not long ago, but this was... It was a lot. Rest now. We can talk later.