joey looks over at him, eyebrows still pulled together slightly. "you're a jerk, you know that?" they both know that she's referencing several things at the moment, not just his words minutes ago.
"yeah," he tells her, shaking his head and looking a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
DISORIENTED, JOEY STUMBLES SLIGHTLY AS ADRENALINE STILL FLOODS HER SYSTEM.
She groans slightly as a wave of pain finally hits her, and she brings a hand to her head. When she looks at it again, she becomes light-headed all over again at the sight of the amount of blood on her hand.
"O doamne," Pietro curses when he turns around to see Joey's current state. "You're hurt."
In a flash, he returns to her side and helps her take a seat on the sofa. In the frantic state they left the party in, he didn't get a good look at her before grabbing her and running back to the hotel.
"I will be right back," he tells her. He disappears in a blur, and returns in one a few minutes later. In the meantime, Joey holds back tears as the adrenaline starts to wear off and her face starts to sting. She stands from the couch to walk over to the mirror to get a better look.
"Sorry I took long, I had to ask someone for a first aid— whoa, what are you doing?" Pietro says when he returns. He sets the metal box onto the table next to the couch, before moving Joey back to where she was sitting.
"That was like four minutes," Joey says. That wasn't long. "And I was just trying to see for myself."
"Take it from me. It looks bad. And nasty," he assures her. She's sitting on the couch, bloody hand extended palm up.
"Thanks a lot," she replies, shuddering a breath.
Pietro walks to the counter on his right, and he grabs a paper towel to run under the faucet before walking back to Joey. He grabs the first aid kit on his way, and when he reaches her, he sits on his knees to make it to her level.
He wipes her bloody hand with the damp paper towel, before setting it to the side on the sectional cushion of the couch.
Now, he gets an alcohol wipe, some clean gauze, and some ointment from the box before setting that to the side. He looks up at her, and their eyes meet— but Joey looks away when he brushes a piece of her hair from her face to clean the cut.
Neither of them say anything while Pietro tends to her wound. He uses the gauze to stop the remaining bleeding, before using the alcohol wipe to clean it. Joey bites her lip, hard— it stings, bad. I know, he wants to say, reassure, but he doesn't.
After he applies a layer of ointment, he steps away from her and gets rid of the used gauze and cloth.
Joey stands up now, too, and she goes for one of the water bottles on the counter, provided by the hotel. She takes a few sips before finally walking over to the mirror to inspect her cut like she wanted to earlier.
Her breath hitches when she sees it. It runs from the left of her forehead, through the tail of her eyebrow, and it passes over the top of her eyelid, just almost missing it entirely. "Shit," she whispers. She knows she shouldn't touch it, but still, she feels the skin around it. That hurts, too.
