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"If you really think so, go ahead." Rivven said, looking at out the corner of his eye as he considered what she had said about the doctor. "But if I can take a good deal, though I don't have any experiance of bullets being pulled to compare to... so it's up to you. Do you need me to move the articles of clothing around the injuries out of the way, or can you work around them?" He said, letting the patches of water surrounding the wounds fall out of position, and settle into a puddle around him.

"Alright..." Rivven said, reaching down and untucking the shirt, and peeling the skintight, armless black garment up to his neck, and carefully put a finger under where the shirt's high fabric collar, also skintight, running up to the bottom of his jawline, and peeled it carefully off his torso and around his head, laying it down on the table beside him and quickly laying down again, trying to put his back on the table before she saw the inticate symbol scarred onto his back. He didn't like it being there, and enjoyed less questions about it.
Laying flat against the table he took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, carefully trying not to think about how he was in front of a young woman who seemed close to his own age; was it his age, or just how he looked? That sort of question which was impossible to answer without his memories always bothered him; with his shirt off, but he blushed a bit anyway. Despite his years of involentary experience in killing and fighting, he had no social grace ever, and was trying hard to overcome his natural shyness of people he didn't know very well. Stop being stupid, just sit still, and let yourself meditate while she does this. She is a professional, she said so, she will NOT be looking at how your muscles are shaped, or anything else, at all! She will not be 'checking you out', so stop thinking like some moron. It didn't help him when a moment later he realized, though he'd never thought about it, he must be just about the peak physichal condition possible for someone his age, after all those years of nothing but training of the body and mind. He turned redder and desperatly tried not to think.

"Well... sure, why not. Thank you very much Miss." He said, in response to the drink offer, very acutly aware of the hand on his chest, trying hard not to think about it. He had no idea how to deal with even imagining that sort of thing. He had after all, lost his memories and been forced to spend several years since enslaved in a castle, let out from training only to kill the enemy or eat. He was trying to cool his head and stop being foolish, but he really just wasn't comfortable in anything resembling that sort of situation, though he wouldn't dare embarass her saying what resemblance he'd connected to this in his mind. Now that he thought about it, the drink too... Stop it! Stop now! That was bad, now you're going to have dirty thoughts! Mind out of the gutter, stop! He couldn't do a thing about the blush at this point, try as he might, so he tried to loosen the tightening of his chest, and slowly relax himself into a medatative state, the slow approach not seeming to work greatly better than the other. All I want is to have a drink so I can stop having to grit the wounds until the bullets are no longer in me, then relax. This is not nessesary thought process...

"No, no, I'm alright." he said, groaning slightly as he propped himself up on one elbow and took the glace from her, with a nod and a "Thank you Miss," and tipped the glass up in his bare right hand, drinking the liquid as quickly as it seemed could be done politely. His other arm, fingerless black glove reaching up to his elbow, made of more of that skintight fabric, was stiffly tense, as he was slowly trying to work it out of the rest of his body, trying to reason with himself that there was nothing wrong with being shirtless in front of a female doctor. A young female doctor... He tipped the glass further back to stop that train of thought, berrating himself mentally, and finished the last bit in one gulp, taking an apprecaitive breath, and setting the glass down on the table beside himself. "Is... i-is there anything else I should do before we get this underway, Miss?" He said, smiling to her in a shy but grateful way, the blush mixing slowly with the tiny flush of the alchohal in his system.

It didn't help a bit when she swung her leg over him, things just seemed to be getting worse and this brought it to a whole new level of uncomfotable thoughts, but when she went for the bullet suddenly, it finally snapped him out of it, and he bit his teeth lightly together, his eyes shut firmly, and sat taking himself through it in measured breathes, his right gloved hand, with it's scar thankfully hidden in it's entirety under the glove, twitched slightly, the fingers tensing into a tight fist, and then relaxing until they lay palm flat against the table. "Y-you know... these... things hurt a lot more... coming out than... going in... go figure." He said between breaths, in a somewhat tensed voice. "I'm real... glad they always... had me train... with Chemia, and not... Richardo. Blades you only have to suffer through the injury of.... once. Geez, I hate guns." He opened his eyes and grinned through the pain. "Ignore me, I'm just babbling now. Sorta helps a little."

"No... I don't really have anything to say... just talking. I just am glad this is the only time I've ever been shot. So... I'm finished... unless you'd like talk about. I'm done." He said, letting the deep rythemic breaths pull him through it, with the mental effort of thinking of something else so hard the pain barely seemed to exist, the way he had done to cope with them during the match, but he really couldn't think of anything else to say, and with his mind running out of words to offer up to him, he was afraid his concentrated thought was slowly running in the wrong direction again.

"Uh..." he blurted, trying to find something to say. Was it done already? He hadn't noticed how it was going, only that it had been, and even that sort of faintly. That was good, but that put him in another uneasy situation. He tried not to think about it, and talk as if they were just sitting across from each other at the table, having a conversation in normal circumstances. "Sure, I'd love to." He said, not sure what he should do in response to the hand squeezing, but smiling warmly back, and glad to have someone to talk to even if he was socially inept. "I just uh... well, it's nothing. We can't all choose where we go in life, and until just recently dealing and recieving of pain had been my life. People learn to adapt. All there is to it, is it's over now, and I'm glad it is." He said, looking her straight in the face and still trying to vizualize them sitting talking rather than... this. Very embarassing things could happen if he let his mind slip any more.

((I have to go, and probably won't be back tonight. I'll be on tomorrow moring for sure though, and probably early tomorrow night, so go ahead and post and I'll reply when I see it.))

"Well... y-yes, I've been staying at the men's dorms, and I've been getting even less sleep than usual since I've been here, only a short period really. Not that events have helped, I sorta got myself exhausted and injured in the middle of the woods and then spent four days trying to let my wounds heal up and went straight into another exhausting fight. So yes..." He said, smiling sheepishly at the young woman on top of him and managing to keep himself from fidgeting nervously while he continued to fight the battle for decent thought. "...I am rather tired. Why do you ask?"