Snippet #2205380

"Fine?" Layla quirked a brow. "Losing that much blood isn't what I'd call fine," she muttered under her breath. Hearing him get up, she watched as he tried to set himself upright, and tsked when he fell back down onto the couch. "If you keep trying stuff like that, you're going to lose more blood," she chastized him, almost mother-like. "Now if you don't mind taking some clothes off, I could clean that nasty wound of yours so you don't have to amputate it when it gets infected. Then I'll do as you ask."

Layla left for a cloth, alcohol and a bowl of water. When she returned, she eyed his arm expectantly. "Well? I'll help you take it off if you need it, but if you didn't mind hurrying up...?" she trailed off into a question. "We sort of need to get this done quickly," she said, givng him a sheepish smile. "I mean, unless you want to have one arm for the rest of your life."