Involuntarily, Jasmine Yale let out a sigh.
Sylvan Cheney paused in his movement with the chopsticks, turned to look at her, and slightly frowned: "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing," Jasmine Yale denied straight away, "I was just thinking that men and women should keep a respectful distance, so if I help apply medicine later, it might not be appropriate."
"I don't mind you, so what are you minding?" Sylvan Cheney complained, "If I faint on the ground, would you give me artificial respiration?"
"..." Jasmine Yale's lips twitched.
This petty man.
After breakfast, Jasmine Yale carefully looked at the medicine bottles on the table.
All of them were topical medications; judging by the quantity, Sylvan Cheney's injuries were quite severe.
"First use iodine for disinfecting, then apply the medicine. For bruises use this bottle, for swelling use this one," Sylvan Cheney instructed.
"Oh, I know."
"So, shall we begin?"
