Destin's face flushes. "She's not my girlfriend!" He then gasps and clamps his hands over his mouth, paling visibly. He quickly begins examining her wound, trying to not draw attention to his outburst. His heart races as he gently cleans her wound, his hands shaking. He uses a clean cloth and wipes the blood from her shoulder. "W..who else's blood is it?" He asks, before rubbing the herbs across the wound, not bothering to warn Paisley that it was going to sting.