[They're ugly cuts, but not serious. Yuan is more concerned for the raggedness, rather than the amount Kratos is bleeding.]

[He sits opposite Kratos, one leg propped on the other knee and the kit balanced on his calf. There's a brief hesitation over method -- Yuan has lost any knack for this he once had -- before he dampens a piece of cotton with antiseptic and bends over Kratos's wrists, beginning with the left and pausing occasionally to blot welling blood away from the wound.]

Once I'm done with you.

[He doubts that Kratos has progressed to being worried by the sight of his own blood. Yuan won't terrify the rest of the base by turning up blood-spattered, but he's hardly going to strip right here, either.]

[Belatedly:]

This stings, doesn't it.