“Bad news,” he said and kneel down in front of her, “it's bleeding, but it's clotted up pretty good already. However, you are going to have a sizable bump for a while. Nothing tragic, but you are probably going to have the worst headache of your life tomorrow, so I suggest you start drinking the second you wake up and just sleep the pain away for a few days.” It was his attempt at a joke.
“The good news,” he said with a soft smile, “however, is that you will be just fine after that fact. The pain and bleeding are deceiving. Evan a scratch can bleed worst than a stuck pig sometimes, so you never know how bad it is until you look.” Oh, oh, her bare legs were right in front of him. Damn this temptation and now the wholly inappropriate situation he was in.
To help fight the desire to touch her, he decided some humor was in order. “You know, for all the jokes made about the various 'notches on my bedpost', I don't think one has ever been because someone picked a fight with my bed and the bed won. Did you leave a scratch or a dent under there that I'll have to come up with a unique story to explain at some point?” He was teasing, trying to make her laugh. Or yell at him. Or something.
She was being awfully quiet. She wasn't going to pass out, was she?