Niegel hissed as Chrys singled out the wound, pain firing up his arm. It earned him a hit to the face, but it at least gave Niegel pause to notice the blood between them. A mix of both, the scent cloying. Too much. The chase had elicited a response from him but it would have to wait. Chrys was still fighting but his eyes were starting to glaze over. His body was responding due to the adrenaline but he was starting to function on autopilot. Niegel shook him and then pulled him up.<br/><br/>“Put pressure on that,” Niegel growled, his erection waning as he tied fabric around his own hand, slowing the blood flow. They both needed to be sewn back up but first he would have to get them back to the RV. Chrys had taken them a good ways out in his attempt to flee. Even so, it was unlikely he would have ever reached another person or a phone.<br/><br/>“Move,” Niegel growled. He nudges Chrys forward, dragging him by a firm hand at his elbow through any protests. When he fought Niegel's grip tightened painfully and he gave him another rattling shake before continuing on. After a while it wasn't just Chrys being difficult, but rather him being incapable. His body had been pushed past what it could handle and his feet simply wouldn't cooperating. They crisscrossed and he slumped, Niegel helping him back to his feet but that only worked for so long. Eventually, Niegel resorted to carrying the young man. He felt weak and pliant, too much energy drained from him showing in crimson all across his body.<br/><br/>Once Niegel got him back inside he was able to see just how sorry a state he was in. Much too pale, his blood dark and thick, trying to congeal but likely reopened in the struggle. He'd been lucky he hadn't cut an artery. If that had been the case he would have bled out long before Niegel had a chance to find him. He dumped him into the floor and recovered his first aid kit. The large tin container was well stocked. He'd come prepared, though he imagined he'd be sewing a wound he inflicted rather than one Chrys had brought on himself.<br/><br/>“Stupid.” Niegel muttered. He tightened the fabric around his own hand. He would need to be stitched as well but Chrys needed the bleeding stopped much more than he did. He removed the stolen shirt entirely and cleaned the area with alcohol wipes, and the gauze to dab away the blood before he could get started. The alcohol had revived Chrys somewhat, making an already difficult situation that much worse. Niegel was struggling with his own hand, threading the catgut and needle while growling at Chrys to be still with the fabric in the way. He didn't bother trying to numb the area, instead wanting to be quick, leaning his weight into Chrys, and then throwing a leg over him to help keep him still. He pinched the flesh closed with his good hand, needle in the other as he pressed it through the separated skin of Chrys' abdomen.