[He stares at the coffee table for a while in silence, closing his eyes.]
You'll have to forgive my suspicion of that statement's truth. Let me wash my face. [He moves away, disappearing back into his bedroom and-- struggling, a little, to wash his face, because his left hand is wrapped in bloody gauze. He keeps it on, washes his face, and then changes the gauze, pulling on a pair of gloves primarily to not get questions about the bandaging.]
[He doesn't look much better when he comes back out into the hall, but he doesn't really think it matters, anyway.]
no subject
You'll have to forgive my suspicion of that statement's truth. Let me wash my face. [He moves away, disappearing back into his bedroom and-- struggling, a little, to wash his face, because his left hand is wrapped in bloody gauze. He keeps it on, washes his face, and then changes the gauze, pulling on a pair of gloves primarily to not get questions about the bandaging.]
[He doesn't look much better when he comes back out into the hall, but he doesn't really think it matters, anyway.]