Bedside manner

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned Isla was unimpressed. The wounds had been dressed, but it looked like it had been done in a rush. Triage was one thing, but after a crises her nurses knew to check their work to ensure that they hadn't missed anything the first time around. Liping at one of the bandages Isla pulled, horrified to find that it began to unravel immediately. Shoddy, shoddy work. She snorted. Meanwhile, Remi just offered Rory a crooked smile, running his hand through hair made curly and crazy with snow and dirt and whatever life fluid had once been in Isla. "Oh." Remi said, glancing across the bed to where Isla's whiskered muzzle was brushing against Rory's hair. She didn't have hands anymore, so this would have to do. "It is Isla." He replied, voice distracted, the words sounding completely ordinary despite the fact that ... well. It was basically impossible. With a weary sigh, Remi looked down at the messy state he was in and sighed. The unicorn shot him a warning look, a mental pulse of don't you dare contaminate this room, Remi clear through their bond. "Isla says I am too dirty to come closer, but .. are you alright?"