𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭. they come with the pain. swallow is a bitter medicine to swallow , but long years have meant him so used to it now. it's hardly a cure-all , but it'll help things along. stop the bleed-out anyone else might suffer. help muscle and skin knit themselves back together much more quickly , and yet as a consequence his eyes darken somewhat. maybe in the limited light of the cave yennefer might not see it , but how pale he looks , the veins that seem all the more prominent just beneath his skin ... those are not easily missed.
he knows it's unlikely to be beyond her talents , healing. geralt would simply hate to make assumptions , and he can't recall the last time he asked for help if a perfectly good solution was already in hand. but yennefer offers quite freely , likely with a want to get out of here. he doesn't blame her at all , damp and unpleasant as this cave is. and so the witcher stares back , just for a moment , as if considering whether it's right to accept her help. something deserved.
geralt nods , eventually , but the small mutter of please that sits on the tip of his tongue seems to get stuck in his throat with a discomforted huff. his hand still pressed to the wound , he relents in that effort to take off his gloves. pulls them from hands shaking with adrenaline with a tug of his teeth , to feel if blood still seeps from that angry wound. a little , but not as much as it had , and it stains his palm and the splay of his fingers. ' it'll trouble me a day or two , otherwise. ' practicality. he'll let caring go for sake of practicality. @shininginyourlight
