[Well, if Cinque was planning to listen to Mista (it was not), it certainly won't after getting that encouraging headpat. Mista rolls his eyes at it and just choosing to ignore it.]

[Sayori needs his attention more, anyway. Because yeah, everything still does very much suck. This sucks. This is awful. He can't even imagine how awful Sayori must be feeling right now, physically and emotionally. What he can do are practical things. Get her to safety.]

[He doesn't recognize the other things he's doing for her, but they come naturally, most of them.]

[It helps to feel the hurt of those scratches, funnily enough. Makes it easier to remember to treat them gently. Slinging his pack off his back, he dumps it on the ground and digs through it for his water skin and a clean pack of gauze. Pour one on the other . . . It's better than a restaurant's nasty men's room as far as first aid goes, he'll take it.]

Gonna sting a little, [he murmurs, ducking his head to dab lightly at her throat; winces because it does, even if distantly, and mumbles an apology, too. The gauze comes away bloodier with each dab, but the more he looks at it the more he thinks they're not that deep. If she keeps them clean, she should be okay.]

[Glancing up at her, he quirks a brow.] I mean, I've seen worse. You still got all your legs and stuff. You know one time I got turned into an old guy? I was a hot old guy, but that was still way worse to look at than a couple scratches.