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Oliver, lying face first on his bed, half asleep, heard his phone beep. His reaction was nearly instantaneous. He jerked himself to his feet, nearly falling off the bed in the process, and grabbed his phone off the bedside table to see where Jack was and how fast he wanted his coffee delivered.

But... This was clearly not Jack. There was no mention of coffee, and to the trainee's sleepy mind that was a sure sign he was not being called on for lackey duty.

He blinked dumbly at it for a minute, and then began pulling on his shoes and coat. Clean bandages... With a bit of running around he had secured some, the little Life trainee's quiet and mouse-like comings and goings were nothing unusual in the labs and infirmary these days. It was barely seven minutes when he arrived at the dorm room in question. Then, after a moment's hesitation outside the door, he knocked quietly.

When Oliver first saw who was standing behind that door, he flinched away from the apathetic man. They had met once before, briefly, and even in that encounter nothing good had been able to rise to the surface. He wanted to run away from that casual scrutinizing glance, but he was completely paralyzed with sleepy anxiety.

At least until he saw Ian.

"Ah, Ian! W-what happened?" He asked, stepping in, and halting himself before he rushed to the bedside. Oliver turned, but received no answer. The door clicked shut.

The beginnings of a panic lingered at the edge of his mind as he stared uselessly at Ian's sleeping figure. What happened- What should he- All the questions nearly overwhelmed the little trainee, who was clearly unqualified for the job that had been thrust upon him. "Ah, Ian!" He finally whispered, moving closer to the bed. "Ian, wake up, please wake up!"

Oliver's mouth dropped open. "What do you mean no?!" He yelped frantically, "What happened, why are you bleeding?! We have to take you to the infirmary, they will be able to help there..."

The kid took a couple pacing steps down the length of the bed, unable to channel any of that nervous energy into something productive.

Oliver hovered anxiously over the bed. "Ian, please... They can help so much better than I can..." The kid wanted to rip those covers back, and pull Ian out right that second, but he was entirely powerless to do either of those things. All he could do was rely on his quiet, shaky voice.

"P-please at least tell me what happened!" He pleaded, wondering if Ian was well enough to strangle him at that moment. "Let me help, if you won't go anywhere!"

Oliver quickly stepped back as Ian sat up, almost as though fearing the older hunter would bite. Why was he sitting up, that couldn't be good for him. Ian looked like hell and it was terrifying. If there was something out there that could mess up an intermediate hunter...

"H-how are you hurt?" Oliver stammered, "H-has it been cleaned p-properly yet?" He glanced towards the door, as though praying the other would come back and magically know what to do.

Ian was the worst. This was not the sort of position Oliver thought he would ever be in, somehow ending up as nurse-lackey to this completely uncooperative man. He wasn't trained for this, he didn't know what to do. And Ian's injuries were worrying him almost to the point of tears. The only thing keeping him from risking both Finn and Ian's wrath to help carry the guy to the infirmary was the uncaring expression worn by the man who had left the room. If that man wasn't concerned, and leaving a trainee alone for this job, surely it was within Oliver's abilities to handle?

Without a word, the kid inched closer until he was able to find the end of the bloodied bandages and start to unwind them. There was so much blood... It wasn't at all like the fake rendered blood and effects from the videogames he used to love. Oliver's hands began to tremble visibly, and he dreaded what he would see when the last of the bandages were removed.

Oliver was almost in danger of passing out when he noticed the amount of blood soaked through the bandages around his back. He leaned on the bed to take a look at Ian's back, and the sight was predictably bad. Oliver swallowed heavily.

"I-it l-looks... Ah..." He mopped at the fresh blood brought about by the change of bandages, but thankfully it was only oozing. Ian's natural healing process had begun to do it's work. "I-I really think y-you should see a real doctor..." He finally stammered in a tiny voice.

But Ian was so determined, the kid figured he might have more luck if he checked in on him in the morning. So for now, one step at a ti-

That wasn't what he expected Ian to say. Oliver had started to look a little pale, but soon there was a healthy blush on his cheeks as he tried to figure out how to reply to that comment. First off, Ian looked awful. Absolutely awful, all pale and weak. But his physique was enviable. There was no way Oliver could deny that, having absolutely no muscle to speak of himself, so he just... stayed silent and blushed.