But... [ Lifting a hand, he gingerly touches his head, fingers brushing the patch of gauze gilding his hair. ] ...there are many people in this world who would not have chosen to help someone like me.

I'm grateful that you did, even if I have asked far too much of you.

[ And he'll be standing up, hand once again bracing against the vanity as he finds his (wobbly!) way to his feet, before he sets about cleaning up: anything blood-covered or otherwise cut and clipped in order to fashion together a bandage is unceremoniously swept into the waste-bin. ]

...please, wash up. [ —his voice is quiet, then, his gaze falling upon Mattie's hands, her fingers stained with red (his blood). ]

If you do not wish to continue on with studying, I will not keep you from your mother for any longer.

[ No, that would not be right. ]