He eyes the bottle with wistful wariness. "That isn't for me?"

It's not that he hasn't been patched up before; he has. In his line of work, it's an absolute necessity.

That doesn't mean he likes it.

The belt is handy, too, though he'd hate to admit it. His teeth grind down deep into the leather as Michael works, eyes squeezed shut as he does his best not to flinch or pull away.

A graze might not be as bad as some injuries, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like a bitch.