[color=#b97703]“Thanks,”[/color] Cas sighed, appreciative that Iris was willing to give him time to process everything. He needed to decide for himself what to do and who to trust, seeking a balance between his old habits and the new impulse to push everyone away. Neither one was healthy. Believing all people were good had landed him in a rebel holding cell, and running away from them had driven a wedge between him and the only person outside the capital who had proven that she was on his side. He needed to find a middle ground on his own, learning how to read others better and make informed decisions about who was trustworthy and who was not. It was the only way he could start to regain confidence in his assessment of the world around him.

For now, that meant not brushing aside her betrayal as if everything was perfectly fine between them. Even if he believed she wasn’t against him anymore, he had to lay down some boundaries or he’d relapse into his old patterns of only focusing on the good things she’d done since they’d first met. He knew himself well enough to worry that if he did that, he’d let his feelings get the best of him and put himself in a position to get hurt all over again.

So, when she climbed up next to him on the bed, he tensed and cleared his throat awkwardly. [color=#b97703]“Sure,”[/color] he murmured, letting his hand fall into his lap so she could take over untying the cloth. If he knew more about taking care of his own injuries, he might have protested, but she seemed to have more experience with wounds than he did. Although he couldn’t see her very well in the windowless room, he could feel her fingers moving deftly to remove the makeshift bandages from his arm. Idly, he wondered if her knowledge came from living with her father. If Regis wasn’t afraid to hit her in front of someone else, who knew what he could have done to her behind closed doors? The thought stirred a pang of anger inside of him. He still couldn’t believe a man could be so heartless that he would be willing to lay his hands on his own daughter.

Unable to see what Iris was doing, Cas hissed through his teeth and arched his spine sideways when Iris suddenly touched the alcoholic wipe to his arm. The chemical stung fiercely enough to make his eyes water, but he forced himself to sit still while she cleaned the torn skin, reminding himself that a little pain now was better than a severe infection later. He wanted to keep his arm when he got back to the capital. [color=#b97703]“Thanks,”[/color] he sniffed, rubbing the tears from his eyes with the heel of his left palm. He took the remaining wipes from her to clean the dried blood off his hands and exhaled deeply, relieved that she was done cleaning the surface of the stab wound. His inflamed skin still burned residually in response to being irritated, but the discomfort was mild compared to what he’d felt a few second ago.

He scrubbed his hands meticulously, trying to get rid of as much blood as he could even though he couldn’t see his progress in the dark. One wipe was used to clean up the brown-red streaks on his left hand, three more were used on his right, and he opened one more after that to start working his way up his left forearm. It was then that Iris pressed the dressing to his arm, and he cringed, biting down on his lip and curling his fingers into tight fists at his sides. The touch of the patch stung just as much as the alcohol had. [color=#b97703]“Fuck,”[/color] he gasped, hitting the mattress twice with his right hand as an outlet for the pain. As she bound the dressing in place, he held his breath, only letting it out once she was done.

[color=#b97703]“Sorry,”[/color] he mumbled with chagrin, embarrassed by how much he squirmed when she’d treated him. He glanced up toward where he guessed her face would be as he felt her get up from the bed. [color=#b97703]“I’m not used to…”[/color] He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. Not used to being stabbed? It felt like a weird thing to say, so instead, he latched onto the subject she chose. [color=#b97703]“It’s fine. It’s just one night,”[/color] he shook his head dismissively, reaching for the other food item she’d given him earlier to find out what it was. Upon opening the package, he was struck with a sweet smell that made his stomach growl desirously. It was a pie.

[color=#b97703]“Do you, um, have any utensils for this?”[/color] he asked, turning to the last place he’d heard her voice. As hungry as he was, he hoped they at least had forks, so he wouldn’t have to dig into the pie with his hands like a savage.