Tommen was the one who was readily available to follow Aleksandra’s orders. While the other guards moved to care for the wagon, Tommen helped Maleki into it proper. The bottle didn’t leave Maleki’s hands throughout it. The alcohol was needed. He just needed to make sure they weren’t put too far away from the case he was borrowing from. Tommen’s hands went to the arrows, looking to remove them to put pressure on them. However, Maleki’s hand shot up and stopped him, preferring the pain to the removal of the arrows.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#4da6ff">“Never remove an arrow… before someone tells you to,”</span>Maleki said haggardly.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#4da6ff">“You either leave them… or you snap off the shaft.”</span>And with that, Maleki released the young man’s wrist and brought the bottle into view. He wanted to drown out the pain he had just caused, but he also didn’t want Tommen’s hands undoing the impromptu disinfecting he had done himself. Thus, the remainder of the bottle was poured onto Tommen’s hands. It was not much, but it was a quick splash to at least add some layer of ease to the situation.<br/><br/>Maleki had been injured before. His body told that story. He knew how to do the basics of first aid, stuff that he could do himself and keep going until someone could do better. This was more than he was able to just brush over. He needed to resign himself for a helluva ride with Tommen, trying to teach the young man what to do. He probably wouldn’t retain a lot of it, but it was something that needed to be done now. There was a couple of points where Maleki blacked out, but Tommen’s panic during those situations were enough to wake Maleki back up before he slid too far. Another bottle was eventually procured, but instead of guzzling this one down, Maleki used it a bit more sparingly. Two bottles could be understood. If he drank his way through it all, then it would come out of his cut… plus it probably would not help matters when the bitch was finally able to patch him up.<br/><br/><hr class="bbc-hr"/><br/>By the time that they finally reached the mesa that they would be setting up camp on, the adrenaline was gone from Maleki. He was sick to his stomach with the pain. Either he had gotten used to it, or it had downgraded to a numb pain akin to being sore, but much more potent. The second bottle was emptied about an hour away from the mesa, and the pain did not allow the drunkenness to last the entire trek up it. There was not even a snarky comment as he and Aleksandra was left in the tent alone. He just lay there, trying not to move as best he could on the cot as Aleksandra started to speak. He wanted to retort with a quip about his life being in her hands, and conversation was her first choice, but he just did not have the energy to do so.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#4da6ff">“I was eight,”</span>Maleki said flatly. He never heard any rumors mainly because he was not in the right age to remember such details. But her words caused suspicion to bubble up in his head. Why did she bother to bring that up before even beginning to care for him? His eyes narrowed a bit as he stared at her before letting out a pained sigh.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#4da6ff"> “Do what you must, but I shall not take another fall because of your actions,”</span>Maleki said, adjusting his head on the straw pillow given. He reached up and pulled a bit of the tattered leather of his outfit to his mouth and bit down, closing his eyes and waiting for the pain to skyrocket, since he expected the arrows needed to be removed before whatever procedure or witchcraft she wished to perform could be done.