That brought Hawk up short; he didn't answer, but turned back to the sink with a huff.

"A-ha," Teige said, "not so damn easy, is it?"

"Hey, I din't say it was easy," Hawk retorted. He'd retrieved the medical kit and now extracted a roll of plain bandages, which he began to clumsily wind around his injured knuckles. "'Course it ain't fuckin' easy! None of this gettin'-better shit is! You gotta keep tellin' yourself over and over til you finally believe it, whatever 'it' is, like 'I don't care' or 'I'm good' or whatever, an' it feels so dumb the whole time--"

He pulled the bandage taut as if to try to snap it apart, and then sighed, and held out the length to Teige. "Can ya cut this."

Wordlessly, Teige poked a claw through the bandage, cutting it in two. Hawk murmured a thanks, tucking in the loose end of the light albeit somewhat untidy dressing. Teige regarded him wryly.

"Therapy going well t'en."

"Yeah I guess it's helpin' some," Hawk muttered reluctantly.