Knee jerk reactions were exactly what Conor had trained to steel himself against for so many years. Patrick was the sort of wolf rather notorious for giving into such things. Conor, after seeing the damage it could cause so many times, had worked diligently to prevent such reactions when, and where, he could.
That didn't mean it was easy. Far from it. When pain that intense hit there was, always, that urge to react. What he wanted to do was snarl and tear into the walls.
What he did was held fight to the edge of the tub and simply gritted his teeth. Forcing himself to think beyond the pain. Pushing himself to listen to her voice. He took measured breaths. He closed his eyes as the pain subsided. He'd dealt with worse. He'd been broken further than he was now. All of it would heal.
"No" Conor spoke after a moment in answer to her question on if he needed anything. The word, that one little word, was a lie in its own right. But there was nothing that he could get, in this moment, that would sedate the thoughts in his head. Nothing would abate the guilt or ease wounds completely and utterly unseen. He shook his head and slowly, with some effort, got back to his feet and started the shower.
There was temptation to urge her to stay. To wrap arms around her and draw her close...
But he didn't. He waited until the shower ran as hot as it possibly could be before stripping the rest of the way and stepping into the heated spray. Water ran instantly red. His blood. Packard's blood. He was coated in both. Vaguely, distantly, he felt the pain of the water to his open wounds. He felt the pressure on his knee keeping his weight. He felt the throb and pulse of his arm and rib.
For a time it was all lost as fingers pressed to the wall of the shower and his bowed head watched the red swirl down the drain.
When Conor emerged he looked better than he had; though far from well. The door to the bathroom was opened once more but Conor didn't step into the room. He stayed where he was with towel around his waist and bandages in his good hand working to wrap wounds still open. "You want to know why I called the vote." he spoke as statement; glancing over his shoulder at her.