Before the nameless one could find a way to tell them not to waste the towel, the boy gripped his wrist and the pain of having the band shifted around stole the nameless one's voice. He pressed his face into the girl's sleeve because it was that or scream himself hoarse.

He felt a tug, and a sliding sensation, and pain sharp enough to steal his breath. His wrists burned, and he vaguely sensed the warmth of fresh blood covering his hand.

“Shit!” Claire yelped.

She moved with impressive speed, staunching the blood flow with the towel and holding it in place with a confident strength that belied her obvious shock.

“What the hell?” the nearest boy choked out. “That's a lot of blood. That's too much blood. Isn't that too much blood?”

Claire was nodding. “Yeah, yeah it is,” Claire looked at the nameless one. “I'm sorry. I thought the wound would act like a piercing, that it'd healed around the bar.”

The nameless one frowned down at the quickly reddening towel. Right. If a human sustained such an injury, their body would heal around the foreign intrusion. His body would too, had he had the energy necessary. Because he hadn't, and because he constantly tugged on the manacles, there had only been the thinnest scabs formed. He should have warned the children of that fact. He honestly hadn't really thought about it.

“It's fine,” he reassured them.

“This is not fine,” Claire said. “That's massive blood loss! I don't even know how you're still conscious! We need to get you to the hospital!”

Panic clawed at the nameless one's gut.

“No! No, you promised!” he gasped out, scrambling to escape. All he managed was to tangle himself further in the quilt, and to pull the girl halfway to the floor because despite his flailing she kept her grip on his wrist. Because, well, if she let go he'd start bleeding again.

“He's sure active for someone about to bleed to death,” one of the boys mumbled.

“Josh!” the other one scolded. Which, okay, now he knew the name of one. He thought Claire had mentioned both names but his memory was fuzzy.

Josh shrugged. “I'm just saying.” He knelt down so he was face to face with the nameless one. “You are really, truly freaked about the hospital idea, aren't you?”

The nameless one nodded, slowly so that the room would stay still.

“Is it only because the freak that put these things on you,” Josh kicked the broken manacle, “ might find you?”

The nameless one looked down, and then shook his head. No. There was still the probability of finding himself tied down to a table and dissected. That was not how he wanted to die.

“Okay,” Claire said, still pressed against his side, and still holding his blood in with her grip and sheer determination. “Okay, we'll hold off a little longer on the hospital. May I bandage this properly?”

“And then,” the nameless one paused, “the other?”

“Are you sure we shouldn't maybe hold off on that?” the second boy asked. “I mean, you've bled a lot. A lot a lot, you know? Maybe wait until the morning?”

“I... would rather continue,” the nameless one said.

“Get it all done quick, huh?” Josh said. “Yeah, I might lose my nerve too if I had to wait. I guess... Claire, you're the most experienced medic type person. What do you think?”

Claire paused, one hand wrist deep in another white and red plastic box, already searching for bandages sufficient to stop the bleeding.

“Oh. Um. I mean, we're probably causing all manner of nerve damage, the way we're doing this, but... he has a right to refuse medical care. If that's what you're doing, we have to respect that. And, well, I guess we can't do any more harm at this point. Might as well finish the job. If that's what you want.”

The nameless one blinked. It was still weird to be asked his opinion. Well, of course these children had no idea what he was and they assumed he was as human as them. So naturally they asked.

“I,” he paused, “Yes. That is my wish. Please.” He added that last because they were doing him a favor, against their own better judgment. He felt he should acknowledge that.

The girl took a deep breath, and shifted so that she sat facing him. “That's it then. Let me just get this patched up, and we'll do the rest.”

The boys nodded resolutely and began making adjustments to their respective tools and gathering up more towels. The nameless one watched, glancing only occasionally at the girl's progress. She was remarkably gentle; he felt only the barest tugging sensation as she switched the towel for gauze padding, and she wrapped the wrist tightly but not so tightly as to cause further pain.

“Thank you,” he said when she finished. He studied the bandage, the way the pristine white stood out against his dusky flesh and how the bandage soon began to show crimson. Once he would have been concerned by that; now he was only concerned with convincing these children that he was alright.

He'd have to find the strength to walk out of this place under his own power, so they wouldn't know that he died. He wasted strength on sitting up under his own power and on keeping his voice steady. It cost him, but that was fine. If they knew how very weak he truly was they would hand him over to the hospital. If they saw that he died they would blame themselves for not calling an ambulance. They would feel responsible for his demise, even though it had been inevitable before they even met him. He did not want that for them. He would not be handed over; the only answer was to make his way out, under his own power, and find a quiet place to die. He'd just have to hold it together a little while longer. When they finished tending his hurts and went to sleep, he'd leave. He at least would have this last little moment of kindness and comfort to hold in his memory. Not the worst way to go.

He managed a smile for the girl when she extended a hand to help him back onto the couch.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, answering an entirely different question than the one she asked.