He'd worked with enough patients and been through enough breakups to know how this went. Greengrass was clearly not fine, but he probably preferred the pain over talking to him, which—was fine, he told himself even as he felt his chest tighten at the thought. Greengrass could dread being around him all he wanted, and he could even spend the rest of this (probably brief) conversation refusing to acknowledge that they'd ever known each other, but from a healer's perspective Valerian was not about to let him suffer. Not when he had that unfamiliar, strained expression on his face and struggled to step back to the door.
"You'll need more than few seconds of rest," he explained, taking an instinctive step forward to try and steady Greengrass only to pull back when his hand was mere inches from Greengrass' sleeve. "But I can—I know how to help a twisted ankle. If you'll let me." He'd never been so hesitant around a patient before; usually he would insist that he help despite their protests, and usually they would give in because they knew deep down they needed help. With Greengrass it was more than that. There were boundaries set in place now that they weren't... together. He didn't think he'd ever tried to heal an ex-lover before, save for Arthur (but that was a different circumstance entirely).
"You'll need more than few seconds of rest," he explained, taking an instinctive step forward to try and steady Greengrass only to pull back when his hand was mere inches from Greengrass' sleeve. "But I can—I know how to help a twisted ankle. If you'll let me." He'd never been so hesitant around a patient before; usually he would insist that he help despite their protests, and usually they would give in because they knew deep down they needed help. With Greengrass it was more than that. There were boundaries set in place now that they weren't... together. He didn't think he'd ever tried to heal an ex-lover before, save for Arthur (but that was a different circumstance entirely).
