[ Though Naminé is focused on her work, part of that work is making sure she doesn't cause undue discomfort for her patient. Her gaze, therefore, makes an regular circuit between the part of the wound she's tending to at the moment, the areas she has yet to move on to, and Link's expression itself. The blue irises that regard him through her lashes still have that strange clarity, as if she's aware he's doctoring his reaction - but there's nothing for it save to go on as efficiently as possible, and Naminé provides no comment.
Her hands, for their part, make careful but timely work of clearing the blood away from the section of his wound she's tending to. Apparently satisfied with the results, she sets the cloth aside for a moment and turns back with delicately outstretched fingers. They hover over the injury, close enough to touch with little effort, but never quite do; instead, after a beat of concentration, a warm glow envelops them. It spreads to the injury without delay, rippling across skin to help it seal again, and carries with it a sensation not unlike the sparkles of dreamotion light that she produced a few months ago when her joy shone through, that warmth like basking in the sun. Here, though, the sentiment is slightly different; if it were possible to compound sympathy and concern for another into a palpable experience, this would be it.
And she doesn't know the whole of what's gone on in the past, but there's an implication of some unfortunate cause in the way Link describes the gap between the present time and when he last saw his friend. That's what finally makes the pinch in Naminé's own brow more noticeable as her eyes break the order of their businesslike path to flick up toward his, just for an instant. And she says, sincerely, ]
... I'm sorry. I'm sure you must be very important to each other, if you're connected even now.
[ To speak as much, though, might only make it worse, mightn't it? Thinking so, Naminé lapses into silence for a handful of seconds as her work proceeds, faltering only briefly in her distraction. Her mouth purses into a brief, self-conscious line; maybe it would help to change the subject. The most obvious is the one she seizes, more out of desperation than for any other reason, despite it already having been on her mind. ]
Do you... want to talk about what happened?
[ Only after another beat or two have passed does she realize the question could be taken more than one way, pursuant to which-- her late but hasty clarification, ]
What happened today, I mean...!
[ Not that she would discourage him from speaking further of his friend, of course, but if she has to pick only one thing to pry about... ]
no subject
Her hands, for their part, make careful but timely work of clearing the blood away from the section of his wound she's tending to. Apparently satisfied with the results, she sets the cloth aside for a moment and turns back with delicately outstretched fingers. They hover over the injury, close enough to touch with little effort, but never quite do; instead, after a beat of concentration, a warm glow envelops them. It spreads to the injury without delay, rippling across skin to help it seal again, and carries with it a sensation not unlike the sparkles of dreamotion light that she produced a few months ago when her joy shone through, that warmth like basking in the sun. Here, though, the sentiment is slightly different; if it were possible to compound sympathy and concern for another into a palpable experience, this would be it.
And she doesn't know the whole of what's gone on in the past, but there's an implication of some unfortunate cause in the way Link describes the gap between the present time and when he last saw his friend. That's what finally makes the pinch in Naminé's own brow more noticeable as her eyes break the order of their businesslike path to flick up toward his, just for an instant. And she says, sincerely, ]
... I'm sorry. I'm sure you must be very important to each other, if you're connected even now.
[ To speak as much, though, might only make it worse, mightn't it? Thinking so, Naminé lapses into silence for a handful of seconds as her work proceeds, faltering only briefly in her distraction. Her mouth purses into a brief, self-conscious line; maybe it would help to change the subject. The most obvious is the one she seizes, more out of desperation than for any other reason, despite it already having been on her mind. ]
Do you... want to talk about what happened?
[ Only after another beat or two have passed does she realize the question could be taken more than one way, pursuant to which-- her late but hasty clarification, ]
What happened today, I mean...!
[ Not that she would discourage him from speaking further of his friend, of course, but if she has to pick only one thing to pry about... ]