The noise Macnair made when the dittany first hit his arm made Ford wince and scoot backwards slightly. There were many reasons he hadn't become a healer, but one of them was certainly this: witnessing other people in pain made him highly uncomfortable. Knowing that Macnair was in enough pain to make noises like that was even worse. Ford pointedly looked away, hoping he could try to block the whole thing out until it was done... until Macnair said he'd have to take over.
I can't, he thought, as the bottom of his stomach dropped past the top of the pavement. But it wasn't as though he had much of a choice, so he swallowed hard and reached for the bottle of dittany with a hand that was only slightly trembling. Merlin help him. If there were any other options he would have demurred, but there wasn't anyone else around whose hands would be any steadier, and he couldn't just leave Macnair bleeding in an alleyway.
Ford didn't want to touch him (because of the bare skin or because of the blood, he wasn't sure) but it didn't seem he'd be able to get through this without doing so he reached out and placed his free hand under Macnair's elbow, gently turning his arm so that he could see the wound better. Which, Merlin, he immediately wished he hadn't done. Ford wasn't especially squeamish, but that didn't mean he enjoyed looking at a gash like this. It was unavoidable, though; he could hardly proceed if he couldn't see what he was doing.
He glanced over at Macnair's face and bit his lip, as though he wanted to give him one last chance to change his mind and do it himself. Taking a deep breath, he started to pour the dittany, with an agonizing slowness in the hopes that that might make it hurt a little less for Macnair, even if it prolonged this unpleasant ordeal for Ford.
I can't, he thought, as the bottom of his stomach dropped past the top of the pavement. But it wasn't as though he had much of a choice, so he swallowed hard and reached for the bottle of dittany with a hand that was only slightly trembling. Merlin help him. If there were any other options he would have demurred, but there wasn't anyone else around whose hands would be any steadier, and he couldn't just leave Macnair bleeding in an alleyway.
Ford didn't want to touch him (because of the bare skin or because of the blood, he wasn't sure) but it didn't seem he'd be able to get through this without doing so he reached out and placed his free hand under Macnair's elbow, gently turning his arm so that he could see the wound better. Which, Merlin, he immediately wished he hadn't done. Ford wasn't especially squeamish, but that didn't mean he enjoyed looking at a gash like this. It was unavoidable, though; he could hardly proceed if he couldn't see what he was doing.
He glanced over at Macnair's face and bit his lip, as though he wanted to give him one last chance to change his mind and do it himself. Taking a deep breath, he started to pour the dittany, with an agonizing slowness in the hopes that that might make it hurt a little less for Macnair, even if it prolonged this unpleasant ordeal for Ford.
Set by Lady!