[ credence attempts to give graves a flat look but it doesn't really work because there's worry (fear) in his eyes. before, he thinks, people came and went whether it was just leaving or by getting themselves locked up or killed. this is different. this is... someone he loves before him bleeding and telling him to help him take care of it and the coaxing in graves' voice isn't actually helping because the misplaces nature of it just makes him more anxious.
still, he does as he's told. he pulls on a pair of the gloves in the kit and passes the rest to graves before placing his hand where he's instructed. his own blood is pounding in his ears. he knows if he calls 911 they'll get here almost immediately (priorities, of course, for someone like graves) but he still doesn't want to make anything worse than it already is.
he's not afraid of blood but this blood makes him feel ill. he doesn't say anything, just nods, face pale. it's all he can do to keep from shaking slightly, honestly. it's a far cry from the credence who, with three bullets in his leg and half-delirious from pain, tried to tell graves that it 'wasn't that bad' and that he 'just needed to walk it off,' which is the worst joke in the world.
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still, he does as he's told. he pulls on a pair of the gloves in the kit and passes the rest to graves before placing his hand where he's instructed. his own blood is pounding in his ears. he knows if he calls 911 they'll get here almost immediately (priorities, of course, for someone like graves) but he still doesn't want to make anything worse than it already is.
he's not afraid of blood but this blood makes him feel ill. he doesn't say anything, just nods, face pale. it's all he can do to keep from shaking slightly, honestly. it's a far cry from the credence who, with three bullets in his leg and half-delirious from pain, tried to tell graves that it 'wasn't that bad' and that he 'just needed to walk it off,' which is the worst joke in the world.
he still limps sometimes on cold days. ]