Giving another smile, and not responding to the offer to pay for his groceries, Soubi shifted to help her sit down on a nearby bus-bench, hands going to the pockets of his jacket. "At least let me see about those cuts if you'd like to talk," he said with a brief, amused glance, pulling a roll of gauze and a roll of tape out of one of the pockets. --Anyone who actually knew Soubi knew better than to ask him why he carried those things with him; it was a habit left over from his days as Seimei's Sentouki, when he'd have to bandage himself best he could after spending time with the younger man, and then stumble to Kio's apartment to let his friend take care of the rest.
He settled next to the blonde woman, ripping off a piece of gauze and going to clean the gash against her brow carefully, long, ink-stained fingers sliding over her ribs to test for broken ones.
And for a few moments, he was silent, as if he'd forgotten entirely about the question---but at last, after bandaging her face carefully, he gave a slight shrug. "I'm a Sentouki," as if that explained everything. "It's what I do. I fight. I.. submit. I belong to my Sacrifice. I protect my Sacrifice." He sighed quietly, a soft, unhappy sound. "He isn't here, though. Not at the moment. I was brought here without him."