It's been the strangest week, and Tragos had a good deal of strange weeks to choose from.
He still didn't understand Ares' decision to position him here. It couldn't be as simple as Aphrodite asked him to. Sure, maybe that played into it, but Tragos was certain there was another motive at work here, he was just yet to figure out what it was.
And if he figured it out or not, the important thing for now was he was here, at Marcie's side, for as long as...
Well. He was here. And he was rapidly learning to be a nurse, how to tell the difference between one wince of pain that could be soothed if he rubbed her back and another grimace that meant everything hurts right now, don't touch me.
That he had the ability to tell the two apart surprised him. These hands had never been used for soothing pain before.
He looked at her now, her hair even darker when it was heavy with bathwater, and smiled faintly as he reached around and pulled the hair out from where he'd trapped it under her towel, making sure it wouldn't drip water down her back. "You want me to get another towel for your hair?" he asked, playing with a wet strand of it between his fingers. It was still almost impossible to resist touching her at any given opportunity.