Date: 2009-08-21 07:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] haroldlee.livejournal.com
The disinfectant was a nasty shade of lurid pink. He poured it liberally onto the bandage, some of it spilling, landing in the sand and beading there.

"Sorry," he whispered, repeating himself. It hurt Harold to do it, but he pressed the cloth gently into Scotty's wound and held on for a reaction.
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