Kris Cooper unlocked the door, and Vera Wave followed him in, shuffling her feet. As she entered, she asked again, "Does your house have... pliers or screwdrivers, anything like that?"
He turned, shut the door behind her, and locked it smoothly. "No."
Sensing his displeasure, Vera didn’t dare to ask further.
"Do you need to buy any personal care items?" Kris Cooper suddenly asked.
"No, I don’t need them anymore."
Vera replied matter-of-factly; truth be told, it had stopped that morning. She might have soiled her pants unknowingly the day before and hadn’t even noticed.
The mont the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
If I hadn’t ntioned it, I could have used my period as an excuse. How am I supposed to refuse him if he makes a request now?!
Feeling a knot of nervousness tighten in her chest, Vera’s gaze fell upon Kris Cooper. Noticing the bloodstains on his left arm, she couldn’t help but cry out, "Don’t move!"
Rushing over, Vera gently took his arm to examine it. On his left pinky finger, a flap of skin was torn, revealing a wound over a centiter long. The dried blood on his finger, though congealed, still looked shockingly vivid. "What happened?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
Kris Cooper glanced at his finger, then indifferently averted his gaze. "It’s nothing. Probably got cut by a guitar string."
When he saw her faint, he’d panicked and rushed over, dropping his guitar. He’d felt his hand sting at the ti but hadn’t paid it any mind. He hadn’t played the guitar in so long that the protective calluses on his hands had worn away, so in his haste, he’d cut his finger on the thinnest string.
"What do you an it’s nothing? That’s a nasty cut!" Vera guided him to the sofa to sit down and retrieved the First Aid Kit from under the coffee table. Kris Cooper had wanted to say that a simple adhesive bandage would be enough, but seeing her take out gauze and cotton swabs, he held his tongue.
It wasn’t often he received such attention from the young woman; the cut almost felt worth it.
After awkwardly cleaning his wound, Vera placed a cotton ball on it, then carefully wrapped it with a thick layer of gauze. Looking at her handiwork, she stuck her tongue out at him sheepishly. "Sorry, it’s a bit ugly!"
Kris Cooper smiled at her. "It’s fine."
Vera tidied up, throwing the blood-soaked cotton balls into the trash can, then asked, "By the way, what was the na of that song you were playing? It sounded really familiar."
"Just random strumming, I’ve forgotten."
Of course, he hadn’t truly forgotten. He just didn’t want to bring up old mories and risk upsetting her again.
"I never would have guessed you play the guitar." Vera walked back over to him. "Should we get you a tetanus shot?"
"No need." Kris Cooper stood up from the sofa, glancing at the bloodstains on his shirt. "You rest for a bit. I’m going to change and take a shower."
Vera stood up as well. "Will your hand be okay? Do you need help?"
Kris Cooper replied without turning his head. "Yes!"
Vera had just picked up her laptop, about to settle on the sofa to work, when she heard his reply and nearly dropped the device.
Seriously? She was just being polite, and he actually took her up on it!
The words were out; there was no taking them back. With an inner sigh, Vera could only get up and follow him into the room. Kris stood before the wardrobe, looking for all the world like a lord expecting his servant to attend him.
Oh well, just this once, she thought, considering he helped buy back the mansion.
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