Abigail Hemsworth frowned, glancing at her arm, "Injuring myself just to throw a tantrum with you? What's in it for me?"
Travis Miller's gaze touched upon her, reaching out to hold her hand and look at a few conspicuous red spots on her wrist.
"Why did you suddenly think of cooking? Don't you know your own limits?"
Abigail pulled back her hand, "Is it wrong to want to cook a meal for you?"
Travis stood up, brought over the medical kit, and sat down beside her.
"It doesn't hurt anymore."
"I don't like scars." Travis held her somewhat evasive hand and took out a medication swab to carefully apply it on her.
"The medical kit wasn't this full before, think about it, why is that? Hmm?"
Besides some usual emergency medicines, almost everything is Abigail's.
Small and large wounds appear every so often.
Abigail watched his gentle actions, pulling her lips, "Who knows? Maybe my childhood was too peaceful, so now I'm slowly paying it back."
