[ So long as she agrees. He isn't even remotely sure what they're going to do, but so long as Fugo doesn't come in and trip over the body, they've got some time. Once she's settled with the first aid kit, he nods, leaning over to scrub his hands in the sink and wait for the water to warm up. Once it feels as comfortable as it's going to get, he cups some to splash over the bite, flinching as it hits open flesh. ]

[ He repeats the gesture a bit more stoically, but as soon as he makes an effort to rub the half-dried blood away from the edges of the wound, his shoulders hunch and tense over the sink, a long breath forcing its way out through his nose. ]

This is like— the opposite of tickling yourself. How's it hurt so much worse when you can see your own hand doing it... I should just jump in the shower at this rate, just— beat it all off and get it over with, I'm already soaked...

[ The words amble out, punctuated by the odd painful hitch as he rinses, his own personal distraction from the stinging discomfort yowling in his neck. Eventually he straightens up, most of the red scrubbed off his shoulder and neck, the bite itself clean as it's gonna get with blood still stubbornly beading at its deepest. ]

[ Tugging a towel off one of the racks behind to dry his hands and chest, ] Alright, your turn...