Sebastian chuckled slightly, thinking about an incident that happened to himself when the hell began. "When I first was bitten, the cops locked me up in a cell at the station with their guns ready to fire. When I appeared fine, they had so many questions. Eventually, I pretty much dashed away. They viewed me as some sort of freak, or that my blood could help others. People think being immune is splendid, but there's so much more to it."
A low chuckle once again escaped the Pathologist's lips. "Trust me, even on a day like this, you're ten times better than I am. I can hardly wield a weapon and I'm terrified to fire a gun. I fee like being immune is a waste for me since I'm not of much help. You seem to be the front line sort of fellow. This is just a four inch road block for you." He backed away as if he were taking a mental image of the wound, figuring out just how may stitches were needed. At least fifteen. "Were you bitten when it all began, or have you just discovered this recently?"
He couldn't help but smile at the younger man. "It's best to fuck up with style. I tend to fuck up with no swagger." He sighed, knowing that the man sure wasn't feeling dandy. "I know it hurts. But sadly, this is nowhere near as painful as what I'm about to do." It was best to just be honest. "I can give you some painkillers. It won't numb the pain, but Oxycontin can sure make you feel like you're floating. I don't have much, but this seems severe enough to need it."
He was silent while he prepared the needle and thread. They were placed in a bag and Sebastian assured that they were sterile. After a long line of thread dangled from the needle he slid the needle on the left side of the wound. Once he reached the right, he began a diagonal ascent. One hand brought the wound close together, while the other began to stitch with a delicacy, as if he were sewing. "Feeling okay?" he asked gently.