Zel turned towards Zef when she put the cotton ball down to try and soak another one in disinfectant.

“C’mon, it’ll be easier if you just get in the bath with me.”

The cyclops gave a nod and a token sigh of resignation. “Alright,” she relented, pulling her shirt over her head before she began to unbuckle her trousers. Zel made no attempt to stay her gaze, leaning on the edge of the tub as she took in all that alabaster skin. She’d seen more than enough yesterday, but both her head and her sight were far clearer now. Under the milky-white light of the illumination crystal, Zef’s lightly-toned musculature reminded her of something she saw earlier today.

“It’s like I’m looking at a marble statue,” she chuckled, Fog spilling from her mouth with every syllable. She’d become so accustomed to Fog-breathing she needn’t consciously focus to do it, but doing it as such also had this rather visible side-effect.

“Sh-shut up,” Zef stuttered dismissively, bending down to pick up the Tablet. She swiped through its projection for a short while before she held it flat. Soon, a small seal-bottle emerged from the Fog vortex that came forth. She stepped into the bath and Zel immediately felt the warmth of that marble-like skin against hers, somehow easy to pick out even through the relentless heat of the bath.

She heard the popping of the cork and the glugging of liquid being drunk, then felt Zef’s lips around one of the stab wounds on her back, soon followed by the warmth of Viriditas flooding in. The markswoman did the same thing on the other stab wounds, quickly enough that she was done by the time Zel had gathered her thoughts. She turned around and blurted out, “Did you just-”

“It’s standard procedure for sealing deep wounds,” the cyclops interrupted as if it were completely normal, emerald-green Fog shrouding her face as the droplets around her mouth evaporated. Zelsys carelessly exhaled right into Zef’s face, seeing her face turn light pink as tendrils of the silvery gas were swept up by a breath in.

The cyclops turned her gaze towards the wounds once again, murmuring something about how they’re deeper than she thought before taking another swig of Viriditas and repeating the same procedure as before. Going by the fact Zel could feel the remnants of pain fading, she was willing to believe the severity of her injuries wasn’t being used purely as an excuse for more bodily contact.

Zefaris wasn’t exactly trying to hide the fact that this was exactly what she was doing, however. After all, it wasn’t as if sealing a wound by using one’s mouth to administer Viriditas directly into it required one to place their mouth anywhere other than the wound, or to wrap their arms around the patient’s chest as she did.

Soon enough, she saw the corked seal-bottle floating by, having slipped from the markswoman’s grasp. She felt the warmth of liquid green flow over the gashes on her back, followed by the feeling of completely unnecessary kisses on the wounds.