*Angel*
Eames takes the handkerchief and gently dabs it against the blister, cleaning away the small amount of dried blood which has crusted around it. It stings a little when he touches the raw flesh, but I can tell that he is being extraordinarily gentle, so I don’t say anything. When he pulls a knife out of his pocket, however, I change my mind.
"Aaaack!" Unfortunately, the first word to fly out of my mouth is not terribly coherent.
Eames looks startled. "Is something wrong?"
"What are you planning to do with that knife?" I ask.
He smiles patiently. "I was just going to make a small incision in your blister so I can drain it. That will allow the dead skin to dry out."
It sounds like he knows what he is doing, but I believe I ought to ask a few questions anyway since I am, after al
