From a distance, as he tried to keep Nit occupied, Marcial watched as the EMTs examined Axe and took her away. God, god, god dammit it all. He never at any moment thought that anything of this sort would occur. It seemed like something out of a nightmare. Something that only the most toxic of relationships were capable of. That last thing was a certain thing Marcial did not even want to think about. No, he assured himself, everything would go fine. Everything would go fine, even if it was everything but fine at the moment.<br/><br/>From the corner of his eye, Marcial noticed Nit making fidgety movements. The clock strenuously raised themselves on their feet, gaping their jaws slightly and hobbled back as the EMT approached them. Noting this, Marcial stood in front of them to intervene with anything they may plan to do to harm the medical assistant.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">Stay still, Mx</span>," Marcial asked of Nit in a gentle tone. "<span style="font-style: italic">The man is here to help you</span>."<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: courier;">You back off</span>," Nit barked, snapping their jaws. "<span style="font-family: courier;">I don't... need help. I'm fine...</span>" They locked their pupil on the EMT, the already tiny dot dilating into an atom. "<span style="font-family: courier;">You'd leave if... you don't want... to worry about someone's... injuries other than ours</span>." A hacking sound escaped their gullet after their statement.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">M- Matías... You're acting extremely irrational</span>!" Marcial began to look tense, his pouty lip quivering.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: courier;"><span style="font-style: italic">I'm</span> irrational?!</span>" Nit stormed up to Marcial, displaying their maw right in his face right after wincing from their leg pain. "<span style="font-family: courier;">And tossing me... around like a rag doll... isn't?! You want a missing... nose in addition... to your other... injuries, <span style="font-style: italic">¡¿viejito?!</span></span>"<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">Just... Just let the man help you! You're hurt, Mx</span>!"<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: courier;">That guy can... suck my ass and... call me Pancho instead</span>!"<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">You...!</span>!" Marcial was on the verge of screaming, though he swiftly suppressed the urge. "<span style="font-style: italic">Clearly hitting you where it hurts did a lot to you... Listen, Matías, it's pretty obvious that you could benefit from this. Just let at least one person show you a whit of respect, will you? Or, in this case, two</span>?" He put on his sweet smile again, attempting to reassure the rabid eldritch of his meek intentions.<br/><br/>Nit, in response, put on a rather dull expression, their eye returning to normal size. Peeping at the EMT, the clock sighed, plopping themselves on the grassy ground below and facing him.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">There we go</span>," Marcial cooed, rubbing Nit's bells playfully, the eldritch growling in response but not bothering to do anything to fulfill their unofficial promise.