Dean couldn't help the wandering eyes as she removed her shirt, but the moment they trailed over the wound his attention snapped back to helping her. He took the towel and tucked it carefully beneath her side, grabbing a clean wet cloth and working on cleaning the skin around the wound. Once he was satisfied, he put the soiled cloth with the other and picked the bottle back up. He used a bit more of the whiskey on her side than he had on her arm, due to the depth of the wound being worse. He didn't want to chance that it wouldn't get cleaned out well enough. When he felt it sufficient, he put the bottle back over on the table and looked at her, an apologetic smile curving his lips.<br/><br/>"Would you be able to turn onto your side? It would make it easier for me to see what I'm doing." he asked, shifting things around with a feeling of nervousness he wasn't used to. Frankly, it was weirding him out a little. He didn't<i>do</i>nervous.