Syd was not the type of woman that generally appreciated being taken anywhere, but she also fancied herself pretty good at discerning the difference between such an act being undertaken for good reasons or poor ones, and for the moment, she was just glad that she wasn't alone here at the moment, as the crowd seemed to be growing dense and raucous by the second. It smelled like alcohol and sweat mostly, with a faint lace of strong, feminine perfume floating over the rest, which was naturally just making things that much worse. She'd always felt a bit unclean in clubs, but then, that was probably half the reason to be in one, wasn't it? Probably a line of reasoning she'd never quite understand.
She was far too surprised to resist as she was suddenly shoved to one side, slightly behind Garreth, who moved one arm in some gesture she could not see. Whatever it was, it clearly prompted a swifter exit from the building, and she went along with his momentum, inhaling a blessedly-clean lungful of air upon emerging outside. It was also then, however, that she noticed a few drops of something dark and reflective fall onto the pavement. Blood?
Tracing the trajectory of the stuff with her eyes, she was surprised to notice that it was issuing from her companion's hand, though he hardly seemed to care about this fact. Surely he had to know, but she wondered what he'd done in there, that he was now bleeding from a cut in his hand? He appeared indeed very cavalier about the situation, simply pulling off his glove and laughing off the insignificance of it. She frowned, though, somewhat unconvinced. Not really pausing to think about it, she stepped around the car so that she was in front of him and wrapped her fingers about his wrist, turning the palm up and lifting it, laying the opposite of her own hands against the back of the injured one. Peering at the injury, she bit her lip and shook her head. "We should get you to the ER. This could get infected." It wasn't that she thought the wound itself was all that awful, but it looked jagged, and she didn't even want to consider how many possibly-infectious bacteria were in that place. "Either way, you shouldn't be driving with this."
He tensed as he felt her fingers against his wrist and quickly pulled his hand out of her grip. He had never liked uninvited touch and that wasn't about to change, even if he felt sympathetic towards her circumstances. He still managed a casual smile as he rolled his eyes at her, brushing off her words. "It's menial and it'll heal soon enough. I'm well enough to drive."
Syd huffed softly in frustration, but it was of an entirely different kind than that of earlier in the evening. She felt a little responsible for whatever had caused this cut, as she wasn't stupid and had deduced fairly quickly that it was connected to her suddenly not being in the same place she'd been before back in the bar. What was more, it really could get infected, and it didn't matter how strong or healthy you were, that was just bad news.
Even so, it wasn't like she was mad at him, not for this anyway, and though she felt she really had to protest, she did go about it much more gently this time. "I'm sure it will," she said honestly, "but if it heals over without being properly cleaned, that would be far from the worst of it." Surely he knew that. ...Maybe she'd been overreacting when she suggested the emergency room, but it wasn't like there were any doctor's offices open on a Sunday night, for goodness's sake. Right, maybe she should try something else.
"Look, if nothing else, at least let me clean and dress it for you? It would be at least inconvenient to bleed all over the place, considering..." she eyed the expensive car. "And driving with one hand is dangerous. If you really need to get somewhere, just let me drive to my apartment and grab the bandages so you aren't staining your leather." She managed a small smile, attempting for what she assumed was the sake of their cooperation to keep things as lighthearted as possible, even though she felt anything but.
The way she was smiling put him ill at ease. He couldn't quite place it but there was something almost disarming in seeing her lips upturned for once. He couldn't quite recall a time when she had actually smiled in his presence, to be frank. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his uninjured hand before shaking his head in the most mild form of agreement. "Since you seem to be so set on the idea of taking care of the wound, Miss Parker, who am I to deny a woman her wishes?" He shrugged and walked over to the passenger side of the car, letting himself in and dropping the keys on to the driver's seat. He wasn't quite in the mood to argue with her right now so he'd concede... for the moment.
Well, that was... odd. She hadn't expected agreement at this early stage in the argument, such as it was, but that didn't mean she was going to waste the opportunity. That said... she was kind of nervous about driving a car that probably cost more than a year's salary for her. Gingerly clambering into the drivers' seat, she refrained from adjusting anything on the rationale that some people became incredibly irritated by that, and she didn't want to take the risk that he was one of them. Still, he was almost half a foot taller than even her considerable height, which meant she really had to stretch her legs to hit the gas and brake pedals. Also, it was a manual transmission, and suddenly, she was glad for those lessons she'd gotten from a friend in college on how to drive one of those, else she would have looked quite the fool indeed.
Concentrating on the road (she really didn't want him to have reason to think she was one of those women drivers), she didn't say much if anything as she directed the too-expensive vehicle to her apartment, which just so happened to be lodged above a small independent bookstore. Where else would she live, really? Parking behind the building to keep the car off the street and away from more potential scratches and fender-benders, she killed the ignition and got out, leading her slightly-grudging passenger up the narrow staircase.
The apartment itself was tastefully if not expensively furnished, the red brick walls without modification save the occasional piece of art here or there, to say nothing of the enormous bookshelves on the far wall, flanking either side of the fireplace at a safe distance. She owned no television, though the living room did contain a small desk with a single chair, at which was placed a sleek laptop computer. "Make yourself at home," she offered, with just a smidge of unease. Garreth Frost was a smart man; he'd probably learn a lot about her just from seeing this room. Maybe a little too much. She wasn't sure she was entirely comfortable with that. Also, given the car, he was probably also a wealthy one, and while not exactly poor, she was still working off some student loans, which likely showed. Undergrad had come with scholarships, but law school rarely did, and Harvard wasn't cheap.
"I'll be right back." Passing through her bedroom, she entered the adjoining bathroom and grabbed the first-aid kit from her medicine cabinet, carrying it back out and taking a seat on the tan sofa. Tennyson, fluffy thing that he was, was draped lazily over an armchair, watching her houseguest with wary green cat-eyes. Flipping the lid of the first-aid it open, she moved a couple items aside until she located the gauze and disinfectant. "If I could please have your hand?" She hadn't missed the way he jerked it away last time; perhaps he didn't like to be touched? This was awkward enough without making things even more uncomfortable.