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Between the tasks laid out for him and the steady throb of his eye, Ezekiel was having an easy time of not dwelling on the void that was now his life up to this point. Specifically what had happened to his face. For a while he'd tried to think back, tried to recall something, anything, but nothing came to mind. It was all one big blank slate, and combined with everything else he was dealing with so far that afternoon, the young man was in a sour mood.

He was attempting, poorly, to change the bandages that seemed to have been hastily applied by himself or someone else. He had no idea who, it could have been anyone. His attempts were lacking. He couldn't see what he was doing, and ever twitch of bloody cloth he shifted brought on a new wave of pain that left him wincing and cursing under his breath.

As a figure materialized in front of him Ezekiel jerked his head back, then winced painfully. "s**t." Pale hair, pale skin, slender. That was all Ezekiel had seen before pain had forced his eyes shut again. "Can I help you?" He sounded impatient, irritated and growly, as he pressed the heel of one hand to his right eye and resisted the temptation to do the same with his left. <********, it hurt. He shouldn't have messed with it. It was starting to fade, or he was growing used to it, before he'd decided it needed clean bandages. Now it was all he could do to keep his teeth closed around the string of profanity that rested at the tip of his tongue. He was certainly not in the mood to answer stupid questions from someone that didn't know what they were supposed to be doing.

An irate snarl of a sound followed the critical comment, the lofty attitude and superior air. He had half a mind to bury a fist in the intruding man's face, but at the moment his aim was shoddy at best. Instead, as hands were batted, he let them lower, squinting irritably at the pale haired man, pained expression not quite hiding the look of loathing.

Really, it wasn't the blonde's fault, but he was a very convenient target.

"You mean these?" At his side clean cotton, a bottle of some strong smelling mix of herbs he'd gotten from woman that'd taken one look at his face before hissing a wince. She'd offered to treat him, he'd declined. At the time it had seemed an alright choice. There were plenty of wounded to go around, he didn't need to add to their troubles. Now he was regretting that.

It already hurt. Ezekiel sneered up at him, teeth bared, in what was likely meant to be a cocky grin. It didn't quite make it, but then he didn't really care just then.

Later, maybe.

"Just do it." Harsh and demanding and not at all appreciative. "Assuming you know what you're doing."

It was probably a miracle Ezekiel had made it through the entire process without kicking the other man or kneeing him in the groin. It was excruciating, and he very nearly busted a tooth clenching his jaw around the myriad of sounds that threatened to spill out as the blonde worked on him. He was not gentle, but he was efficient, quick, clinical.

By the time he was finished Ezekiel actually felt a little ill. He skin was cool to the touch, sweat beaded on his brow and upper lip. He couldn't say the left side of his face felt better, persay, but the absence of dirty rags for bandages would certainly help.

When all manner of treatment seemed to have ended the slightly shorter of the two let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, sagging back against the wall unless pale fingers held onto his jaw.

That grimace of a grin again, teeth flashing in the dim light. Had he the capacity for it at the moment a witty retort would have followed that comment, but Ezekiel was about at his limit. Conscious, mostly upright, he counted those a personal victory, all things considered.

The news about his eye didn't shock him. Disappointing, yet, but not surprising. Slender fingers released his face and he brought a hand up to rub at his jaw, brushing the back of his fingers up along the stubble that covered his cheek. "I figured as much." He sounded resigned.

For a long moment he remained where he was, considering. Then he was straightening up and rising to his feet. "Thank you." Curt, almost hostile. Clean bandages didn't seem to have done much to improve his mood. Possibly, it was the prospect of heading out on some artifact seeking quest. The absolute last thing he wanted to be doing, but he didn't exactly have much of a choice in the matter. He turned a critical eye on Julian, that pale gaze racking from blonde hair to the toes of his boots, before he let out a sharp breath.

One hand on the wall, he started towards the stables, only to stop after a few steps, not quite looking over his shoulder. "You got a name?"

"Why not?" He shot back, weight shifting from one booted foot to the other. What he really needed--what he was craving--was a dip in some cool pond or river. His skin itched with the need, and it was likely not helping his belligerent attitude any. "You might have just saved my life." Infection was a very real threat, and Ezekiel couldn't have hoped to have cleaned the wound as well himself.

"I did. They were a little busy at the time. Got that bottle though, and the cotton." A twitch of a smirk, self-mocking.

He turned, took a half step back as he rubbed the palm of his hand against the leg of his pants before offering it. "Ezekiel."