Something Wicked This Way Comes

||4- A Warning||

Kat worked with careful hands.  The wound had stopped gushing blood at this point; an indication that the gash wasn't all that deep.  If she managed to stitch it again and Loki didn't pull them for a second time—the laceration would hopefully heal within four to five weeks.  If that.

Katalina let out a huff of air in realization.  Five weeks—she was going to have to harbor a cocky, arrogant Norse God for five weeks.  Kat shook her head—maybe he'd heal faster?

Kat bit her lip, focusing back on her task.  As gentle as possible she began the clean the drying blood around the wound.  Deep or not, if cut like this got infected, it could cause the both of them a world of hurt. 

Mostly for Loki.

Kat pulled the bowl of water in front of her—set the towel within it to dispel the blood before ringing it out again.  She placed the bowl back and carefully ran the wet towel along the wound.  Loki tensed out of pain, Kat paused for a second before continuing.

"Easy, girl."  Loki hissed, his fists clenching at his sides.  Kat ignored him. He was in pain, she gave him that much. But God or not, if he wanted to act like a child, she'd treat him like a child.

Loki's gaze drilled into her and Kat peeked up at him, raising a brow.  With no response, she dropped her gaze to continue what she had been doing.  She'd never been queasy, blood never really fazed her. Seeing the blood on her hands now, again, she had never been more glad in her life that she didn't have a weak stomach.

Still, the sight disturbed her.  

Kat wet the towel and started again. There wasn't much fresh blood, just dried blood along the macerated edge of the wound. Most of that would be fine for her to leave; as long as if it was clean enough for her to see what she was doing. Stitching wasn't her strong suit but she could do a half decent job of it as long as Loki didn't tear them again. Mentally, she began run through what she could make, medicine wise, versus what she had to get from the drug store.

What Loki really needed though, was an actual doctor.

Lost in thought, Kat applied too much pressure. Loki flinched. Faster than lighting his hand shot out, catching her wrist.

"You stupid girl," he snarled, tightening his grip—hard enough to bruise. "Be careful."

Like an iron vice, Kat thought.  Her lips pulled back from her teeth as pain spiked through her wrist.

"Let go," she ordered through her teeth, keeping her voice steady.

Loki's emerald eyes were remorseless and hard, "you do not give me orders, woman."

Anger flashed through Katalina. "I will tell you one more time," she warned, "Let go."

He wasn't going to—Katalina could see it in his eyes, as well as feel it as hold did not loosen. She had warned him.

In a sharp, quick movement, Katalina twisted her own wrist to break his grip. She rotated her hand and clamped it down to encase Loki's. In less than a second, she was on her feet and had Loki's arm pinned in her own grip. Loki hissed in pain; the sudden movement causing his torso to shift.

Kat was sure he was in a lot of pain, but she hadn't moved him far enough to contribute to his wound.

"I'm going to make this very clear," she said, lowly, "I will not tolerate being treated as some lesser being you have dominion over."

"I do not care who you are or where you came from, but at this moment you are my patient. I did not have to take you in; I could have left you in the alley with the small chance you would still be alive by the time the squad arrived. But I didn't make that choice, so for however long you are here, you are under my roof and my care, and you will follow my rules."