Yunara stitches up Sokol's wound
It was ridiculous, really, but even with his skull throbbing, Sokol couldnât quite decide if the purple hair was real or fake. For a fleeting, concussed second, Sokol wondered if Bain had actually started letting cosplayers into the crew. Would she even need a mask then, if she already came with a costume?
But the sheer sting of the needle cut right through his absurd theories. Much to his horror, the pain was far too great for him to handle; an embarrassing truth, considering how deftly Yunara worked and the fact that he knew the tear was shallow, barely subcutaneous. Yet every microscopic tug of the thread felt like wire slicing through raw nerve. His eyes smarted, hot and heavy, and the Russian blinked furiously against the humiliating threat of tears.
"Hurts," Sokol croaked, and he'd instantly hated himself for it, loathing the way he must look right now: a sniveling, fragile boy who couldn't even handle a few routine stitches.