Being physical wasn't exactly Anatoly's strong point, at least when it came to fighting. He'd surely have sore muscles tomorrow, though nothing he couldn't handle. As long as he could stand the wound in his shoulder, everything else would be tolerable. Though he might have to invest in aspirin or ibuprofen to help with the pain if it got to be too much. Though reflecting on what had just occurred in the alley only made him remember when he'd first saved Svetlana twelve years earlier. Only he hadn't gotten stabbed quite like this in the process.
As Svetlana helped get his shirt off, he flinched slightly at having to move his shoulder. And then he was there, shirtless, in front of her. It brought back memories from happier times, from a time before his only focus was chess. A time when he and Svetlana had been happy and not caring about what was happening with the rest of the world. All that had mattered was that they'd had each other and everything they ever wanted. All those memories flashed through Anatoly's mind, and seeing them over again did help when Svetlana started cleaning the wound. He clenched his teeth, but made no other outward show of pain. Sure, the disinfectant stung, but it was necessary, and there were worse pains in the world.
Nodding a bit at Svetlana's warning, he braced himself as she started stitching up the wound. Oh it hurt, and it didn't go without a little wincing, but he stayed still. After all, jerking and twitching when getting stitches was generally a very bad idea. Not wanting to make it worse than it all ready was, he remained still. Though while she worked on his shoulder and was leaning close to him, he couldn't help but look at the bruises and cuts the attacks had left behind on her. When she finished stitching and binding the wound, he couldn't help himself but reach out and lightly trail one finger along the edge of one of the bruises. It was a soft touch, one of sympathy and knowing she was in pain herself.
"Here, let me take care of that cut," he said gently after some moments of silence. His eyes were nearly locked on the cut, glad it wasn't deep enough to warrant stitches, therefore he could take care of it. And he wanted to take care of her. He lifted his eyes up to hers and looked into them, no longer the robot he'd been the past few years, but the man he'd once been, then one that had sworn to protect and love her before all else.
[OOC: I do apologize if this tag makes like...zero sense. I screwed up my sleep schedule and have been sick the past several days(which I attribute to the jacking up of my steroid). At least I'm not totally nocturnal today?]