Zari's eyes are indifferent despite the blood dripping from a cut on his forehead. You immediately step forward, pulling a handkerchief from you pocket, and you dab the blood from his face. Your touch is gentle, and you're worried for him. Zari is silent and still as you take care of his cut, but he senses that you want to say something. He rolls his eyes, but he doesn't interrupt your work. I'm fine, you know. It's nothing.
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