"If you think you can handle stitching it, if not I'll hold through until I reach my next checkpoint," but that could be another two days before he reached it. And by then, the wound would surely start to heal in a disfigured kind of way. Quentin reluctantly hands over the needle and thread to Mitchell. Not that he didn't trust Mitchell, but to brace himself. He smiles, dabbing again at the gash with a clean bandage to soak up the blood welling up in the lines of the gash.

"You act like I've never been hurt, Mitch."