A Distinct Lack of Urgency[Jasper]

His first name would always be accompanied with a title. Even in private, daring to refer to the Prince in any familiar manner was appalling. Even if the man wanted to be friends or more than friends after speaking on three occasions. Some of that was because of how he was raised. Some of that was his insistence that they not become close.

Finding a strange older woman and no Prince was probably the scenario he had least envisioned, but was most relieved for. No handsome royal gawking at his figure or frowning after his scars. Just him and a different stranger. One he could imagine was old enough to have helped the Queen deliver Jasper and his sisters. At the very least, she had likely helped treat the Prince since he was young. That would be why he picked her out of all the medical staff.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Olivia. I'm Hunt." He stepped forward and offered a small smile to her along with his hand. He grimaced. "His Highness worries about a lot of things," most that weren't his business, even if he was right. "But yes," Hunt added, moving to the bed. "I imagine this isn't anything new to you, but I am going to need to take my trousers off," he informed her, more for his own reassurance than anything. He half dropped his pants and then eased himself onto the bed, glad this one wasn't very tall. Hunt winced and tried to lay back comfortably but that was a bit difficult. the bath had helped him relax at least.

His thigh was wrapped in a tight bandage, stained a bit pink from the wound below. A deep slash that had barely missed the artery and while it had been stitched closed already, it still ached. Whether from overuse or infection of both, he wouldn't know. His abdomen was wrapped similarly, another stitched slice on his side and over his hip, cutting to the bone. He was doing a remarkable job keeping himself together with the pain. Some of that was the small amount of drugs he had been given, but after the ride, everything throbbed.

The way the nurse spoke only confirm his initial insights. Not in the least because she used the word 'young' in an affectionate manner. Not that Jasper was that much older than him, he supposed. Five years, give or take? He smiled faintly at hearing the man had always been overly concerned. Compassion and care weren't bad traits by any means, but certainly it would make some of his role as a royal harder. Not all compassion was power, and not all power was compassionate, so the old saying went.

It was just as well she removed the bandage. They needed changed after the bath anyway. He tensed, but otherwise didn't move, keeping his eyes on the far wall and away from where she touched him. It wasn't that he had a particular problem with strangers so much as he was sensitive to pain, even as he was good at compartmentalizing and tolerating it. "That would explain the irritation," he noted. And his exhaustion. He'd done his best to keep the wounds clean, but he'd also still had to function. Not to mention he was sleeping on a mat in a tent and cleaning in a stream and slogging through mud and snow. He put up with it because every day he didn't, it meant someone else on patrol in his stead. Even right now.

Hunt's finger's twitched on the blankets as she wiped the injury. "Five days?" He counted back. It had been the day before the Warden visited. Perhaps a week ago? It certainly should have healed a bit faster than it was. He lifted his own shirt, rather than her have to bother with it while removing the other bandage. "Taknieri don't have fevers. Not naturally," he informed her. It had to do with their magic. Sometimes, control of their own body temperature wasn't a good thing, as it didn't fight off infections and illness on its own. They had to use other tells and then raise their temperature intentionally. It was why, despite their magic, many children still died young to such things. Having not known of the infection, he had only been keeping his temperature a bit higher than normal against the cold. Now, he tried to increase it a bit further.

Hunt dug his fingers into the blankets and furs on the bed and grit his teeth as the nurse continued to treat the injuries. While it had certainly hurt before, the soldier was used to pushing through pain. But this was different. This wasn't the chronic ache of sore and pulled muscles. This was a sharper stabbing sensation. As she pinched and pressed the wound to drain it, he groaned. "Noted," he said, more to distract himself that because he understood her words and would follow them. He blinked as she talked about him losing a leg. Not his personal preference, so he supposed she made a good point.

"Better than it happening to someone else," he said, again more just to say something and distract himself than to really trying to counter the woman. "Yes," he admitted, the second list of symptoms feeling more familiar. Not that he wasn't always tired these days, but for someone his age, he knew he shouldn't be that tired. He should be more attentive to himself. Should being the key word. He would not be. "Yes, ma'am," he allowed, wincing as she applied the poultice. Besides the pressure, it didn't hurt, but he had a feeling it would over time. He tried to lay back and look up at the ceiling as she spoke more at length.

The offered bottle he took gingerly but didn't open it. He hesitated, looking it over, then opened it and took a deep breath of the aroma. It certainly smelled awful. "I have a..." How to explain. "I can't drink this," he said, trying to hand it back. He suspected he knew what it was and while it would certainly help, Hunt would prefer to avoid other longer term problems. "The pain isn't anything new," he added softly. He was less thrilled to walk to the main hall and eat after all the added pain, but he was still hungry.

Hunt grimaced. "Yes, but it's..." he didn't really feel like explaining this to a stranger. "This has nothing to do with that." Well, for all he knew he could be allergic to the medicine. Still, his problem was much more personal and private than that. He was relieved she didn't push it on him and even sighed audibly when she took it from him. Some of the tension in his shoulders relaxed as that temptation was removed.

Only for her to hand him another one. The fact that it wasn't pain medication was better, but he still went about the same guarded movements, looking it over and taking a whiff before grimacing at it. He opened his mouth to attempt to return this bottle back to the nurse as well, but then she was packing up with her back to him and talking and he didn't want to interrupt. "Yes, ma'am," he said quietly, managing to sound a bit sheepish. The next five days...he looked at the bottle. long as he didn't manage to break them on accident. And if he remembered. "What is in this?" he asked. because he couldn't think of a good reason to say no but he still worried.

The scout deciphered most of the ingredients but he struggled to keep up. Imperial might be a second language to him that he felt mostly comfortable using but things like exhinacea and myrrh were words without meaning. None of them sounded at all like their Taknieri counterparts. They might be sistdr kingdoms but the language roots were more like long lost siblings. At the very least, he wasn't allergic to anything he knew. And he was assuage of anything particularly habit forming. So he drank this one in one swallow, grimacing at the taste but not dwelling on it.

He sat up for her to re-bind everything, holding up his shirt and grunting as she pressed and pulled. He inspected the bandages with his fingers gingerly. "No, don't apologize. This is good," he said, letting out a breath. He shifted his left leg over the side of the bed, putting his weight on his arms. He relaxed a little but it hurt too much. Hunt only regretted not drinking whatever it was a little.

Hunt nodded as she went down her list of reminders like she was his caretaker. Force a fever, drink water, rest, be more careful. He glanced up at her on that one woth another grimace. Good luck with that one.

His initial reaction was to tell the nurse she overstepped herself with those words. But he was part of a different world now. "I am perhaps more helpful if I am not around," he mumbled instead, refusing to make eye contact with her any longer after she labeled him a suicide risk. She might have meant it politely and her warm tone conveyed as much, but to his ears it came out harsh and cutting. Enough to make him recoil and put that wall up again that he had though safe to drop because she wasn't the Prince. Besides, being handsome had nothing to do with his right to live.

Hunt sat on the side of the bed for a long moment, staring down at the polished wooden boards beneath his boots. He pushed himself up slowly, weight more on his right. The bandages were stiff and he could feel that sort of itch and iritation try to overwhelm him but he pushed forward. The Prince was expecting him, but even just a few steps left him reeling. Hunt leaned against the back of the lavish armchair. "Tell his Highness I'll have to take food in my room," he groaned, knuckles white on the upholstery as he moved to sit down, panting and collapsing against the cushions. He caught his breath and focused on pushing away the pain.

Hunt was aware it was not his place to make demands of the Prince or ignore his orders. He didn't particularly like having to put that pressure on the poor servant but he doubted Jasper was the type to shoot the messenger. Hunt nearly fell asleep in the chair before the next set of knocks startled him awake. He twitched, half standing up and then collapsing back into the armchair in pain. He felt unbearly hot between his own body heat and the fire. But that was the point he supposed.

He did push himself up upon seeing the Prince. He swallowed most of that pain, prepared for it, though he was not prepared for the man to eat with him. He took the cup gingerly by the top of the glass, as if it wasn't intended for him. He set both it and the plate on the end table, sitting again once the Prince had lowered himself.

Hunt frowned. "Rather difficult to avoid someone who won't leave one alone," he pointed out. But it was largely a facade to avoid discussing why he wasn't walking to the mess hall. As far as Hunt was concerned, his conversation with the nurse had been private. Even if he suspected Olivia might tell the Prince later. He glanced at the fire and then away and toward the food. Look like pork but he wasn't entirely sure. Either way it was fancier fare than he normally had, though anything would have made his mouth water.

Hunt snorted. "So polite of you," he said sarcastically. Of course it was polite. It was also nearly required. The Prince overseeing his health would have been one thing but a bath? Hunt had no desire for that. Not here where bath tubs were individual and designed to be private. Even now, with a simple shirt and trousers and his boots, he felt exposed and off balance and, likely, that was exactly how the Prince wanted him.

He noted the man didn't ask how he was. Standing and sitting so awkwardly had been a good clue. Sometimes he could hide his pain better than others. "Thank you," was all he said.

The captain twisted slightly to use the awkward utensils to begin cutting up pork but the position ached. He grit his teeth and continued, taking each piece as he cut it off and the eating it with a piece of potato or asparagus. "You have a fine cook," he said. Especially the roll. Even if it had been made this morning it tasted perfect. He packed down food faster than he should have. Faster than his injury warranted but he couldn't help it. He hadn't eaten all day and he felt like he could go again. But he would contain himself.