"You needn't—" he starts to protest, but she's already half out, and all he can do is try to assist her, gritting his teeth against the pain in his injured arm.
When she goes to slide the door shut, he hesitates for just a moment before ducking down to ensure that the end of her tail doesn't get caught, only wondering as he's already doing so as to whether he's overstepping.
"I'm sorry," he says, looking around at the space that is now almost entirely filled by Ulla—such that he's sort of cornered against the edge of his berth. "I—I ought to have gone to you."
"It's fine," Ulla tells him, dry humor momentarily overriding exhaustion.
"I don't mind. And I'd rather you safely in here than out in that mess,
but once the seas calm I'm going to ask you again if you'd like a larger
cabin."
She offered a cabin change on day one, but perhaps he'll take her up on it
this time.
"Let me see your arm, please. Whatever this is has me weaker than usual,
but that doesn't look too bad. It would be a sorry state of affairs if I
couldn't do something about it."
He unwinds the bandage from his shoulder and gingerly removes his shirt so that she can get a better look at it. There's an ugly slash across the bicep that goes right over the musket-ball scar, and another across the top of the shoulder. Both are still oozing blood.
It really hurts like hell, but Fitzjames is used to carrying on through pain.
"The woman who did this was not in her right mind," he says. "I can't blame her for it. Fortunately, Herr Leickenbloom was able to stop her, or else it could have gone much more poorly."
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no subject
"You needn't—" he starts to protest, but she's already half out, and all he can do is try to assist her, gritting his teeth against the pain in his injured arm.
When she goes to slide the door shut, he hesitates for just a moment before ducking down to ensure that the end of her tail doesn't get caught, only wondering as he's already doing so as to whether he's overstepping.
"I'm sorry," he says, looking around at the space that is now almost entirely filled by Ulla—such that he's sort of cornered against the edge of his berth. "I—I ought to have gone to you."
no subject
"It's fine," Ulla tells him, dry humor momentarily overriding exhaustion. "I don't mind. And I'd rather you safely in here than out in that mess, but once the seas calm I'm going to ask you again if you'd like a larger cabin."
She offered a cabin change on day one, but perhaps he'll take her up on it this time.
"Let me see your arm, please. Whatever this is has me weaker than usual, but that doesn't look too bad. It would be a sorry state of affairs if I couldn't do something about it."
no subject
He unwinds the bandage from his shoulder and gingerly removes his shirt so that she can get a better look at it. There's an ugly slash across the bicep that goes right over the musket-ball scar, and another across the top of the shoulder. Both are still oozing blood.
It really hurts like hell, but Fitzjames is used to carrying on through pain.
"The woman who did this was not in her right mind," he says. "I can't blame her for it. Fortunately, Herr Leickenbloom was able to stop her, or else it could have gone much more poorly."