It was obvious by the way his brow furrowed at the sight of those wounds that they did not look how his fuzzy, drunk brain thought they should. He wasn't a doctor by any means, but he had certainly suffered enough of his own wounds to recognize where the safe places to get shot were, and those? Those were definitely not safe. And yet...
He hummed thoughtfully, turning and pouring alcohol onto a bit of gauze and turned back to begin cleaning the blood away, forgetting that it would likely burn like Hell. The fact that they were still open, but bled so little, was...so strange. But he supposed beggars couldn't be choosers.
"It's weird...'s like all the internal damage has already healed or something. Or at least...enough that you're not bleeding. Not like they should, at least?" He might have checked for a pulse, if it weren't for the fact that if he really focused, he could almost see the beat of it in the way the blood dripped down. He turned back to the box of supplies and pulled out a little container of styptic powder, dusting another piece of gauze before pressing the bandage to the wounds, ripping off pieces of medical tape with his teeth and his free hand before fixing it down. "You should really see a doctor after this, just to be sure. Even if they've started healing, they're deep."
He stepped back, crossing his arms and staring at the bandages with a deep frown, as if he expected the man's chest to beam the answers directly into his brain. And at no time did it ever seem to occur to him how that might have been perceived by anyone else, either too focused on figuring out what had happened, too drunk to know any better, just not hardwired to think of things involving bared skin the same way humans did, or some combination of the three.
Whatever the case, after a few moments, he shook his head, looking up at the man's face as he finally focused in on what he was saying, and finally gave a long, exhausted sigh. So. Just another poor soul who'd been dragged into his brother's crusade against his will. He reached up with one hand, rubbing his face and pressing against the beginnings of a headache between his eyes.
"If I took offense for every person my brother forced to come ruin my life-..." Ok, no, to anyone else, that probably would have been something very offensive. Maybe he was too drunk to explain what he meant there. But he barreled on. "Look. I don't blame you for what he made you do. He took perfectly normal, kind people and made them do horrible things, all for his crusade. And sadly, I'm used to it. He'd been that way for...a very, very long time. Even before he dragged you into it."
But then the last part of what he said made him pause, his hand moving down so that he could stare from over it, his brow furrowed.
"So...you heard that..." Which meant he hadn't just been having some sort of weird, drunken flashback. His arms shifted to cross back over his chest again, and he stared off to the side, thinking hard. "That...was my sisters. So yes. I'm the Red Brother. Only it's wrong, that call already went out months ago. Everyone was in Octovern when it happened, I was there! Why did they cry out again? I thought everything had been settled!"
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He hummed thoughtfully, turning and pouring alcohol onto a bit of gauze and turned back to begin cleaning the blood away, forgetting that it would likely burn like Hell. The fact that they were still open, but bled so little, was...so strange. But he supposed beggars couldn't be choosers.
"It's weird...'s like all the internal damage has already healed or something. Or at least...enough that you're not bleeding. Not like they should, at least?" He might have checked for a pulse, if it weren't for the fact that if he really focused, he could almost see the beat of it in the way the blood dripped down. He turned back to the box of supplies and pulled out a little container of styptic powder, dusting another piece of gauze before pressing the bandage to the wounds, ripping off pieces of medical tape with his teeth and his free hand before fixing it down. "You should really see a doctor after this, just to be sure. Even if they've started healing, they're deep."
He stepped back, crossing his arms and staring at the bandages with a deep frown, as if he expected the man's chest to beam the answers directly into his brain. And at no time did it ever seem to occur to him how that might have been perceived by anyone else, either too focused on figuring out what had happened, too drunk to know any better, just not hardwired to think of things involving bared skin the same way humans did, or some combination of the three.
Whatever the case, after a few moments, he shook his head, looking up at the man's face as he finally focused in on what he was saying, and finally gave a long, exhausted sigh. So. Just another poor soul who'd been dragged into his brother's crusade against his will. He reached up with one hand, rubbing his face and pressing against the beginnings of a headache between his eyes.
"If I took offense for every person my brother forced to come ruin my life-..." Ok, no, to anyone else, that probably would have been something very offensive. Maybe he was too drunk to explain what he meant there. But he barreled on. "Look. I don't blame you for what he made you do. He took perfectly normal, kind people and made them do horrible things, all for his crusade. And sadly, I'm used to it. He'd been that way for...a very, very long time. Even before he dragged you into it."
But then the last part of what he said made him pause, his hand moving down so that he could stare from over it, his brow furrowed.
"So...you heard that..." Which meant he hadn't just been having some sort of weird, drunken flashback. His arms shifted to cross back over his chest again, and he stared off to the side, thinking hard. "That...was my sisters. So yes. I'm the Red Brother. Only it's wrong, that call already went out months ago. Everyone was in Octovern when it happened, I was there! Why did they cry out again? I thought everything had been settled!"