11th June, night: Retribution

"...Oh.. Bastien..." Saint-Hilaire whispered and though he wanted to roll his eyes at the display he instead just shook his head. "...I will touch it lightly and so as not to hurt you, but I will not scratch it... because it should not be done at all." He paused and rested the palm of his hand against the area where the wound was. "What about this...? Will it be enough to keep you sated and not fidgeting about?" He asked quietly.

He had to adjust his position a little as his own body still protested at the stress he was placing it under. "Better?"

Bastien chuckled into the pillow.

"Better. Now what do I have to pay you to keep that up the whole night, and is there any chance my poor possessions are enough to make you help me wash off the remaining blood? Or are you generous enough to allow me a quick dip in the river if I promise to be careful and let you rebandage the damn thing?"

He didn't seem to be in pain much - but then, he would do his best not to show it if he were anyway.

"You needn't pay me anything, Bastien, only promise that I am able to get some of my things back and actually keep them. While I understand your delight at the quality of my clothes.. and socks and the like.. I cannot walk about in the dress I was born in because all my personal things had wandered into your tent and decided to stay there." He smiled and gently stroked around the injured area, as if to soothe both the itch and try calming the other man.

"I'll be glad to help you wash..after all it has been my fault that you've gotten dirty in the first place." He chuckled softly and studied his chest then moved to look lower briefly. "So, do you want it done now, before sleep?"