“She?” Dumas demanded, ready to beat the holy crap out of whatever woman had dared to harm Mari.  But even as his hands curled into fists, he remembered that Mari often referred to her ‘shadow self’ in third person.  Some people found the habit a bit odd.  However, Dumas couldn’t be too critical of it, since it was possible that he did the same thing -- depending on exactly what DEE turned out to be.  “Oh yeah.  Right.”<br/><br/>Dumas frowned as Mari described her injury.  “Have you had a doctor look at it?  A cut that bad might get infected if you don’t treat it properly.”  Dumas didn’t know much about the finer points of medicine.  But when it came to triage and emergency first aid, he was an expert.  “At the very least, a doctor can give you something for the pain.”<br/><br/>Honestly, his first instinct was to sling Mari over his shoulder and carry her back to bed, whether she wanted to go or not.  But what would he do after that?  Stand guard all evening to make sure that she didn’t get back up again?  He had a job to do.  Besides, he shared her dislike of lying around and staring at the ceiling.  Sometimes staying busy was the only thing that helped.<br/><br/>“On you, grumpy looks cute,” Dumas assured sincerely.  Despite her attempts at bravery, he could tell that Mari was scared.  Who wouldn’t be?  Part of him wanted to reach out and ruffle her hair reassuringly.  But he knew that she didn’t like being touched, so he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets instead.  And that reminded him of his mission.  This hardly seemed like the ideal moment for a gift.  On the other hand, her injury proved that it was becoming increasingly urgent to discover what happened when she blacked out.<br/><br/>“Hey.  I, um...I have something for you.”