Nathan laughed and shook his head at the girl's jest, feeling safer with the boy's gun holstered for the first time since they'd met. â€œOh, I just can't decide.â€ he mocked frustration, playfully, â€œSo I guess we better go with the gauze; spider strength can only do so much, after all.â€ A few years ago, he would have got a collection of stitches for this, but that was a lot less fun to do since the hospitals closed. Still, if these wounds wouldn't stay closed themselves, he might have to pull out the sewing kit, yet.  In the mean time, he'd hope this girl was an okay paramedic.<br/><br/>Setting his shotgun on the ground next to him, Nathan sat on his knees across the light from the girl, with his shoulder towards her. He tried not to wince as he used his left hand to pull his bag's shoulder strap out of the blood on his right shoulder and shrug the thing off.<span style="font-style: italic">I wonder how much in there I broke.</span>He then used the same hand to pull off what was left of his right sleeve, which hung around his wrist like a soggy, red bracelet. The upper half was torn clean--okay, maybe not so clean--off. â€œThis shirt's not good for anything but a rag, now, anyways.â€ he said aloud, shrugging at the girl, at least with his left shoulder, so she'd know what he was doing as he slipped his combat knife free of it's leg sheath. Then he slid the blade under the collar of his shirt and sliced down to where the sleeve once was and then from there down to the bottom, letting the shirt fall away, before wiping the blade on his pants and putting it back. That let him pull his shirt the rest of the way off and use it to clean up some of the blood, since it was already moist and clean enough from all his time in the rain today. That gave the girl a clean arm to work on; Nathan took the opportunity to examine her as she did so, but didn't miss her quick glance over the rest of him one more time first. He suppressed a giggle. Despite being a nerd, he was hansom, after all; fit and decently muscled, if extremely lean. The lack of any fat made counting his ribs easy and left the one that was dented inward when he was a kid very noticeable.<br/><br/>She was average height for a girl, but Nathan could tell she was fit, too; even if a police uniform and jacket aren't the most reveling things you can wear, her movements still gave it away. She had beautiful dark red hair, woven into a thick braid that touched the floor as she leaned over him, and her violet eyes were the weirdest thing he'd ever seen.<span style="font-style: italic">They must be contacts.</span>She had a calm face, already recovered from the incident only moments ago. But most of all, she was gorgeous, with the kind of soft features that a model was lucky to be born with. And kind towards strangers, of course. That was an important quality anymore.<br/><br/>That reminded him. â€œYour name's Rainie, right? I should thank you. You just risked your life to save me and I don't even know you.â€ Nathan hardly ever spoke in a serious tone, but his voice was soft and heartfelt, now. â€œYou didn't have to do that...â€ He trailed off for a moment, then abruptly spoke again as if he'd just made a decision. â€œIf you're low on ammo, batteries or explosives, I can get you as much as you need... Well, to an extent, of course. And I can try with anything else. I'm good at fixing things.â€