Re: Gotham: Iris and Joey
[Alright, there was a lot of blood that was spilling from Joey's hand, but she swallowed hard and did her best to steady herself even as she noticed his wavering. She was glad to see him brace himself against the counter, at the very least. One hand cupping the back of his, the other pulling away the towel (after a soft "don't look"). Her breath hissed through her teeth and there was no way to see the cut itself with the way the rusty liquid pooled in Joey's palm. It needed pressure at the very least, but she didn't want to do more damage to him than he'd already done to himself. And more glass would mean more damage. So she angled her eyes up as her thumb dipped down into the warm red puddle of it, feeling so carefully along the trench of the cut for anything that felt sharp.]
I don't know. Is bad taste genetic? [She sighed and shook her head, at herself more than him or his questions.] I didn't love him right away. I hated him at first and I hated him at the end. [It was easier to talk about when she was distracted by what she was doing. And maybe she had to tamp down on her gag reflex at the realization of what she was doing as she spoke, but she didn't feel anything that seemed like glass, and that was what she was hoping for. With that determination made, she used the counter to help her fold the towel one-handed, the other still holding the back of Joey's wrist.
When the pad of towel was small and dense, she tipped Joey's hand into the sink, losing the puddle, before pressing the fabric hard into his palm and using her own hand to curl his fingers around it.] Can you hold it tight? I missed the lesson on being an Alexander. I've never felt like one. [She turned the tap on to rinse her hands and glanced around as she asked, finding another towel to sacrifice to the cause. A cursory swipe to dry her hands, and then she was using the fabric to tie around the outside of Joey's fist. It would keep his hand from opening even if he couldn't control his fingers. And then she lifted it above his head.
It was awkward, standing there and helping to hold his arm up, not quite able to meet his eyes so close. But she was glad to not be questioned about Sam herself. If he wanted to know more... he could ask someone else in the family. It wasn't her side of the story to tell. And while Joey went pale and she started trying to plan for more medical intervention, those thoughts were startled away for a moment at the press of bloody fingers against her collarbones and the awkwardly embarrassed flush that rose to her cheeks.] I don't know if many people know him. I haven't really talked about him to anyone. I didn't want to ruin it. [She looked up in time to catch him staring her down, and tried to match the determination. Only in regards to something else.] You need to get sewn up.