mob and verti

The return home was a miserable one. Mob was barely able to stand, clutching a deep, bleeding wound on his side, sustained during yet another skirmish. Every step sent an unbearable flash of pain through him, but he stubbornly continued until his strength finally gave out right on the threshold. Verity picked him up.
"Dude, this is my last warning! Where are you taking me?" Mob hissed through his teeth, trying to break free.
— On the bed! I won’t leave you at the table for…
"Let me go!" Mob snapped, but his outrage was ignored.
A moment later, he was already slumped onto the soft mattress. Mob tried to rise, but Verity yanked his belt sharply, binding his arms tightly above his head and preventing him from kicking.

• You left me no choice, I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.
  "You can't do that with regular gloves?!" Mob fumed, pulling his hood down to hide his anger and embarrassment.
  — Sterilization, Mob)
  After examining the cut, he sighed regretfully, although the smile never left his face:
• Poor thing. How did you even get home?
  "One more word and I'll bite your face off," growled Mob, whose hands were securely held.
  "I advise you to bite your bandana, not my face. You've robbed me of the chance to make it less painful."
  The wound treatment began without further ado. A sharp pain shot through Mob's body, causing him to scream and twitch.
• Ouch! Stop it! You'll regret this!
• Mob, don't move.
• What?! It hurts, you idiot!
  He put the tools aside and finally unhooked the belt, freeing Mob's hands. The victim, breathing heavily and raggedly, immediately sat up, pulling his hood lower to hide his rage and the telltale blush that had appeared on his cheeks.
  — Are you happy with yourself?
  — Am I satisfied? Of course I'm satisfied that I saved you from blood loss.