*He waits until Wright is seated, then stoops slightly, pushing his glasses up into his hair and catching the look that Wright gives to the bottle in his hand as he uncaps it. The smell of the liquid is strong - reminding him too keenly of hospitals - and he has to swallow down the instinct to gag, returning the look with no small amount of sympathy as he pours a small amount onto the cotton wool.*

I'm afraid that I can't make it painless, Wright. But this will reduce the chances of your needing to visit the infirmary.

*Replacing the bottle on the table, he looks at Wright with a slight frown.*

You never did tell me if we had met before.

*And there's the briefest hesitation before he places a hand under Wright's elbow, supporting his arm and examining the cuts in the light from the window. His fingers tense slightly in anticipation of the reaction as he brings the cotton wool into contact with the broken skin.*