Joaquin was actually sort-of considering going to a doctor now, but he'd take his time with it. When it came to things he didn't want to do, like seeking medical attention, he tended to wait to see if things got better first. Just another week, then I'll go. He had no overwhelming fear of doctors or needles or the like to excuse his behaviour, just a general sort of discomfort with the whole idea of it. Tucking the small tube Adam had handed him into the pocket of his sweater, he hoped that would be enough to soothe his mysterious injuries.
"You're sure? I could always um, buy you lunch or something. Thanks a ton, though. This'll be just fine." Adam's generosity had caught Joaquin by surprise, and he felt guilty not repaying him for both giving his hands a look-over and the ointment he'd given him. "Me? I'm, um, a painter. I teach lessons in town here, too."