I wonder what it's like to be loved by you

She was the picture of misery - of unspilled tears, quiet sniffles, and flushed cheeks.

That small drop of blood was her undoing.

She stared at it as if she was afraid of that tiny bead, as if she was incapable of fathoming anything beyond that little bit of red. This was not how Tetradore had planned to spend his evening. A soft breath reverberated upon his lips as the Were-King pulled her towards the bathroom - the layout of the apartment intimately familiar to him. How many times had he showered in the same tiled room? How many times had his feet padded down that hall? He shook his head ever so slightly, pressing back those unwanted memories as he flicked on the faucet, letting the stream of cold water drown out those thoughts as he shoved her finger into the chilly stream.

The Were-King pulled open the cabinet above the sink, his gaze shifting over the contents before, finally, he found exactly what he had been searching for. Perhaps it was fortunate that she had been so diligent in unpacking her bathroom. His rough fingers worked at the small box, slipping a bandaid from its packaging before reaching for her hand. The small pinch was dried off, medicated, and wrapped with relative ease, even if the Alpha was fairly certain it didn't require such treatment in the first place. It was almost a waste of a bandage, really.

His emerald irises flicked upward, a glimpse of surprise fluttering across his features as those large tears poured down her fair features. Surely that small wound was not worth crying over? His brows furrowed even as he asked after her name, though really, Tetradore was unsure of how that might even help him. For a moment, she was silent, those words too much to utter amongst those tears that fell so freely. Her gaze seemed to focus on some distant point, and yet the size of her pupils didn't suggest she was on something either.

Her voice, when she finally did speak, was a low whisper, fractured by unheard sobs though her words were...frankly, an enigma. Those memories of a time long past were buried too deep, replaced by far too much trauma then he would ever admit to. Instead, Tetradore was focused on the present - one in which he was quite certain he wasn't bleeding in. That is, unless she was talking to herself...about herself? Was she like...schizophrenic or something?

That'd be just his damn luck.

A heavy sigh left his lips, the Alpha shifting uncomfortable before her as he reached up, his hand idly rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, is there...maybe someone I can call for you...or something?" He inquired, hoping, feebly, to wash his hands of this.

He was so not equipped to handle this.